Chapter 5
FIVE
Kip
I thought I had more time. I thought I could delay meeting her a little longer, could maybe come up with the perfect way to reveal myself.
But then I found out about the dating profile.
When Huxley told me, I almost didn’t believe him. He’d mentioned it in passing, as if it were no big deal, but my heart had dropped like a stone. Ginger Baker, my Ginger, had made an online dating profile. And now, the thought of her meeting some random guy, letting him get close to her— my girl—it was driving me insane.
I shouldn’t be this angry. I know that. But I can’t help it. After all these months of writing to her, pouring out everything I’m too afraid to say in person, the thought of someone else stepping in where I haven’t had the courage to go... it’s too much.
I grab my phone, my hands shaking with frustration as I open the dating app Huxley mentioned. It takes me a few minutes to find her, but when I do, my stomach twists. There she is, smiling at the camera, her profile casual and sweet, just like her.
I stare at the screen, my heart pounding as I hover over the message button. This is a terrible idea. I shouldn’t be doing this. But I can’t stop myself. My thumb taps the button, and before I know it, I’m typing out the first thing that comes to mind.
Take your dating profile down.
I hit send before I can think better of it, my pulse racing as I wait for her to respond. What the hell am I doing? This isn’t the way to handle this, but I can’t shake the fear gnawing at me—the fear of losing her before I’ve even had a chance to show her who I really am.
The phone buzzes in my hand, and I look down at her reply.
Excuse me? Why? Who is this?
I swallow hard, my mind racing as I try to figure out what to say next. I can’t exactly tell her the truth, not yet. But I also can’t stand the idea of her going out with someone else. I clench my jaw and type out my next message.
The guy who’s been writing to you. Take the profile down.
There’s a long pause, and I wonder if I’ve crossed a line. My palms are sweating, and I almost want to take it all back, but then her reply comes through, and I can practically feel the heat in her words.
You’re the one who’s been leaving me notes, and now you think you can just tell me what to do? Who do you think you are?
I groan, running a hand through my hair. This is going terribly. I take a deep breath and type out my reply, trying to explain myself without sounding like a complete asshole.
I don’t want you to meet anyone else. I’ll explain everything, just... take the profile down.
There’s another long pause, and I can almost hear the frustration in her silence. When her next message comes through, it’s clear she’s had enough.
Either you meet me under the mistletoe at the town holiday party at 9 PM, or I’m done taking orders from you. If you don’t show, I’m putting this profile to good use.
My heart lurches in my chest as I read her words, the ultimatum hanging in the air like a threat. She’s not playing around anymore. I’ve pushed her too far, and now I’m backed into a corner. I either meet her at the party, face-to-face, or I lose her.
I close my eyes, my chest tight with anxiety. This is it. I’ve run out of time.
I stare at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. There’s so much I want to say, but none of it feels right. In the end, I don’t reply. I can’t. I have to figure this out, and the clock is ticking.
I’m so worked up, and I know that I need to find something to keep busy, so I head to work. I find Huxley in the garage, tinkering with one of the helicopters. He glances up as I approach, wiping grease off his hands with a rag.
“Hey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s up?”
I pace back and forth, the anxiety gnawing at me. “I messed up, man. She’s going to be at the holiday party. She told me I either meet her there at 9 PM, or she’s done.”
Huxley raises an eyebrow, leaning against the workbench. “And you’re freaking out because...?”
I glare at him. “Because I’m not ready, Hux. I can’t just show up and... what if she takes one look at me and regrets everything? What if I ruin this? I mean, she’s expecting some handsome, charming guy and I’m--,” I throw my hands out, my words cutting off.
He lets out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Kip, you’ve been writing to her for months. She’s falling for you, not some other guy. If she’s into you in those letters, she’s going to be into you in person. You’re overthinking this.”
I shake my head, the doubts swirling in my mind. “You don’t know that. The guy she’s falling for isn’t the real me. It’s the version of me that I wish I could be, the guy who isn’t broken.”
Huxley rolls his eyes. “You’re not broken, Kip. And she’ll see that. You just have to show up.”
I stop pacing, staring down at the floor. “What if I don’t go?”
Huxley’s expression hardens. “Then you lose her. And you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what could’ve happened if you’d just had the guts to show up.”
I swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s right. If I don’t go, if I let my fear win, I’ll lose Ginger forever. And I can’t let that happen.
“I have to go, don’t I?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Huxley grins. “Yep. And it’s going to be fine. Hell, this could be the best Christmas of your life.”
“Or the worst,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. The thought of standing under the mistletoe, waiting for Ginger to show up, only for her to take one look at me and walk away—it’s terrifying.
Huxley slaps me on the back. “Come on, man. You’ve got this. And hey, maybe we can make it easier on you. You know, blend in a little.”
I frown, not understanding what he’s getting at. “What do you mean?”
Huxley’s grin widens. “We’ll volunteer to help out with the party. That way, you can be there without all the pressure of just waiting around. You’ll have something to do, and you’ll look like a hero for helping out. Win-win.”
I blink at him, considering the idea. It’s not a terrible plan. Volunteering would give me an excuse to be there, to keep myself busy, and maybe it would help with the nerves. And if it means I get to be closer to Ginger, even better.
“Yeah, okay,” I say slowly, nodding. “I’ll do it. But... I’m not sure this is going to end well.”
Huxley laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we head out of the garage. “Hey, worst case, you get rejected, and we go to your place and get drunk. Best case, you get the girl. Either way, you’ll finally know, and you can stop living in limbo.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. He’s right. This is it—the moment I’ve been avoiding for months. It’s either going to be the best Christmas I’ve ever had, or the worst.
I just have to show up.