CHAPTER TWENTY-seven #14
"And that's why I can't just believe you loved me all those years ago. I don't... know how to."
In a blink, I close the distance, like my body refuses to let her sit in that place of doubt a second longer.
My hands find her face, holding her like she's the only thing tethering me to the ground.
"But I did," I rasp, the words ripping out of me before I can think. My chest heaves, stomach twisting, hating myself for every reason I gave her to doubt it.
"I swear, Caroline—I loved you then." My thumbs brush her cheeks, desperate, needing her to feel it. "And I love you now. Still. Always."
The last word comes out hard, raw, like it's carved out of my ribs—like maybe if I say it enough, it'll finally drown out the doubts my past actions left to fester, eating at her every time she looks at me.
She looks like she's fighting not to lean into my touch, like every muscle in her face is begging her to press closer to my hand while the rest of her is dead-set on resisting.
"You think I just noticed you because you fit everyone else's definition of hot now—tiny waist, perfect face, whatever bullshit number people obsess over? No."
I pause, shaking my head as a smile sneaks in, half-nostalgic, half-pained.
"I noticed you the first time you tried a pirouette when you were five, nearly face-planted, and still laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. I told you you were the prettiest ballerina I'd ever seen, and you shot back that I had it wrong—you were the Sugarplum Princess."
The memory hits harder than I expect, and I have to take a breath, my voice softening without me meaning to.
"I noticed you the day you wore braces and spilled orange soda all over your shirt but just kept talking like nothing happened. I noticed you every damn time you showed up with your hair a mess and your hoodie three sizes too big and still managed to light up the whole room."
The corner of my mouth quirks up. "Hell, you lit up my day.
Didn't matter if you showed up with a face you swore looked like roadkill on a Monday morning—soon as you walked in, it felt like someone set off the Fourth of July inside my chest. Full-on fireworks, grand finale, the whole damn sky exploding just because it was you. "
I drag a hand through my hair, my throat tight as the words keep spilling.
"I hate that I ever made you feel like you weren't good enough to stand next to me. Like you didn't fit whatever 'standard of beauty' people thought I had. Because you did. You do."
I press my forehead to hers, my voice dropping to a rasp.
"You've always been the standard, Caroline. The only one that ever mattered. You don't just tick every box on a checklist—you are the whole damn list."
I exhale hard, shaking my head. "And yeah—you're probably right.
Maybe I did care too much about my image back then, about keeping that stupid high school reputation.
God, I wish I could go back and shake that version of me, punch him until he got it through his head what really mattered.
But I can't. I can't rewrite the past, even if I'd give anything to.
She doesn't move, but her chin trembles.
"I hate that my own fear and stupidity made you feel insecure. That you had to doubt yourself because of me. And I'm really really sorry for being that dumb. If I could take that away, I would. But I can't fix who I was back then."
I drag in a breath, my jaw tight, before forcing myself to go on.
"All I can do is stand here now, in the present — the version of us that's older, smarter, braver — and swear to you I won't ever let you feel that way again."
She studies me, pensive, like she's not sure whether to believe me. "How?"
My mouth quirks into a slow, crooked smirk. "By wooing you."
Caroline actually snorts before she can stop herself, then scrambles to school her face back into neutral. Too late—I catch the gleam in her eyes.
"Wooing?" she repeats, all skeptical.
"Yep." I make sure to pop the p, grinning wider.
She crosses her arms, unimpressed, though the corner of her mouth betrays her with the tiniest twitch. "But you don't woo. You've never done that."
I reach up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, close enough to hear the soft hitch in her breath.
"That's because I've been saving it just for you."
"Really?" She sounds like she doesn't buy it for a second, but there's a spark in her eyes I'd kill to keep lit.
"I don't even know if you know the first thing about wooing a woman, Zach."
I scoff, throwing her a look of mock offense. "Have you met me?"
I drop my hand, leaning in just enough to crowd her space, my voice lowering into something smooth and teasing. "Guess that means I'll have to take it as a challenge. So, you better prepare yourself, because I plan on giving you the best damn wooing of your life."
My hands rise almost on instinct, sliding along her jaw until my palms are framing her face.
"I'm going to clean up my reputation, prove to you that I only ever have eyes for you. Prove I'm the kind of guy who deserves to be with you — so don't bother fighting it when you start falling for me all over again."
Her lips press together, holding back a smile, and it's a damn miracle I don't drag her into my arms right then just to see it break free.
My gaze traces over every inch of her face like I've been starving for it — because I have. I missed this.
Missed seeing her like this. Her lashes flutter, her eyes flicking anywhere but mine, like she can't handle the heat in my stare.
Her cheeks are pink now, warm and soft. A dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose makes the whole thing unfair.
She looks like trouble and sunrise all at once.
My heart does a somersault in my chest, a full-on flip that leaves me dizzy.
It feels like I've been plugged straight into a live wire, jolts ripping through me, too much and not nearly enough all at once.
She's trying so hard not to look at me, not to give me the satisfaction — but she is. She's giving me everything in this moment.
And I can't wait to see more. All of it.
Every expression she tries to hide, every flush of pink in her cheeks, every smile she bites back. I want to coax every single one of them out until she can't hold anything back from me anymore.
"Only one favor, though..."
Her eyes finally meet mine. "A favor?"
"Mmhm."
"What is it?"
"If I can do it — if I can earn even a fraction of that trust back — will you agree to go on a date with me?"
I hold up one finger. "Just one. That's all I'm asking."
"I'll consider it," she says, her voice soft but sure. "If you earn it. But don't think for a second I'm going to make it easy for you."
A laugh escapes me. "Wouldn't want it any other way."
And then she smiles — unguarded, soft, and so beautiful it feels illegal.
Everything inside me detonates. Whatever rush was already in my veins multiplies until it's a roaring, dizzying thing, like my heart just lit a match and set my whole chest on fire.
It's too much, too wild, too good — and I want to live in this exact second forever.
God, if she keeps smiling at me like that, I might actually start believing in miracles.
Hell, I'll pray to every god, saint, and random deity I can think of, light a candle for each one, build shrines, offer up whatever sacrifices I can find — hell, I'd bargain away my soul if it meant she'd keep looking at me like this. The way she used to.
And then more — until she's glowing so bright the whole world knows I'm the one who put that there.
Yeah, okay — maybe the soul-offering part's a little much. Not actually signing over my afterlife or anything. But you get it — I'm so far gone for her I'd probably thank the devil for the contract.
I'm still reeling, my chest too full, my pulse refusing to settle.
Then I let a slow, dangerous edge creep into my voice. "Guess I'll have to yearn and grovel until you cave. Which, for the record, I'm fully prepared to do — especially if you keep gracing me with that smile."
She smiles wicked. "Fine — woo me."
"Oh, I will,"
She rolls her eyes and shoves at my chest, playful but bossy. "Now go away. I need to hit the gym, and you still need to help your friend."
She pushes me toward the door, yanking it open like she can't get rid of me fast enough, and I'm grinning like an idiot the whole way.
"Alright, alright, I'm going," I say, hands up in surrender but my smile refusing to budge.
I step out into the hall with my chest puffed full of victory, my pulse still running wild. First stop — make sure Taylor's okay.
Then? Straight to the boys, so we can start sketching out the master plan.
Because let's be real — I've got a mountain of screwups to dig myself out of. I'll need the full arsenal: charm, persistence, groveling, maybe even a Hail Mary or two.
Bottom line? I've got a lot to make up for. And if I don't seriously up my game, Caroline's gonna keep me benched for life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-six
ZACH
It's already past seven when I finally get back to the Pond. Didn't even realize I was camped at Caroline's that long. Honestly? It still wasn't long enough. I could've stayed all night.
Hell, I would've killed for one of our old sleepovers.
But yeah, that's not on the table yet. Haven't earned that right back. Not even close.
Besides, I needed to haul my ass home. Taylor's waiting so we can go to Campus Safety together. Hopefully she's doing better—though, let's be real, after today? That's a stretch.
Please let Kentaro not have made it worse. The guy's bedside manner is a brick wall with an attitude. He means well, but he's about as soft as frozen concrete.
Then again, Taylor isn't exactly the type to get intimidated by anyone. So, maybe it balanced out. Hopefully.
I push inside, keys dangling from my hand, and boom—sounds like World War III just broke out in our house.
I hear Liam's voice first, "You camped, you rat bastard!"
Luke's right on top of him, "Learn how to aim, scrub. My grandma's faster than you."