10. Shane
“I thinkyou are suffering from a lack of vitamin me.” ~Unknown
Well, I did it. I shot my shot. Told Hope how I feel about her and practically proposed marriage. I hadn’t planned on that last part, but my heart seemed to know better what to say than my mind did. What Hope needs is reassurance and commitment, both of which I want to give to her. She’s such an amazing woman, but she’s been through the wringer when it comes to meeting the wrong guys. There’s no way I’m going to keep her guessing about where I stand. So, I put it all out there for her to see. Now all I need to do is wait.
Did I mention I’m not good at waiting?
I run on adrenaline most of the time. That was part of the appeal of being an EMT when I signed up for the job—the fast pace and urgency of the work keep things fresh. I also get to see results happen quickly. Wrap a bandage around a wound, and the bleeding stops. Give a shot of epinephrine, and anaphylaxis reverses. Do CPR, and the patient breathes again. Confess my love… and hear crickets.
Silence is precisely what hangs between me and Hope as we continue walking along downtown Solvang. We’ve been in a handful of stores since the sock shop, mostly browsing on our own. Judging from the bags hanging off Hope’s shoulder, she’s found some more items to add to my sister’s birthday gift. The way she puts up with—er, I mean, supports—Amelia never ceases to amaze me. My sister can be a handful sometimes. She’s a bit high-strung with how she likes things to be “just so”. It’s a wonder Ryder seems to miss her.
He didn’t say those exact words during our call, but I could tell he was worried about Amelia. You don’t worry about someone unless you care about them. I personally wouldn’t be surprised if he’s considering asking for another chance. His answer to me when I’d told him about Hope was this: Don’t hesitate when it comes to love, or you’ll end up with a boatload of regret.
That advice gave me the motivation that I’d needed to come clean with Hope. It’s much better to learn from other people’s mistakes than make your own.
Speaking of boatloads, Hope’s and my most recent stop was at a bakery where we picked up two orders of ?bleskivers. We each carry a paper food boat tray with the fried balls of dough, and our mouths are occupied with chewing. Despite the silence, it’s not like Hope’s ignoring me; it’s actually the opposite. She keeps peeking up at me out of the corner of her eye with a line drawn between her brows. She’s obviously concerned, which I hope is a sign that she cares about me. And that she didn’t get turned off by my comment offering to do mouth-to-mouth for my vacation associates. Based on the sour expression she’d given me, that joke had definitely fallen flat.
“You were right about these dough balls,” I say, trying to sound casual. I’m tired of acting like we hardly know each other. We were having such a good time just an hour ago, I want more than anything to get back to that place. “They’re better than I thought they’d be.”
Her face softens with relief as she slows her pace. We end up stopping in front of a bookstore where she turns to face me. “I’m so glad you tried them. I love how the outside is crisp and the inside is soft and fluffy. It’s the perfect combination.”
You know what’s another perfect combo?I want to blurt out, but I quickly stuff another ?bleskiver into my mouth. If I believe God brought Hope back into my life, I need to have some faith in the process. His process, not mine. “Mm-hmm,” I agree with a smile.
“It’s a little messier than I expected though with all of the powdered sugar.”
“That’s the best part.” I take another bite and savor how the different textures and flavors settle on my tongue. “My taste buds are having a field day. Aren’t yours?”
“Sure, but so is my shirt. Or more of a snow day.” She points to the flecks of white that dot her yellow top before tugging at its hem to shake them off. “That’s better.”
We watch as the powdered sugar gets flung into the air and disappears. Well, to be exact, Hope watches it while I watch her. Suddenly, I’m transported back to middle school when I discovered those magnificent creatures called women. Or more specifically, one woman named Hope O’Connor.
She still has it—that beautiful sparkle in her blue eyes when she smiles. And when she chooses to share that smile with me, I feel like everything that she says I am—gorgeous, cute, sweet, hilarious, and wise. Just call me Super-Shaney ’cause I feel as strong as Superman, as noble as Captain America, and as brainy as Iron Man. Being around Hope makes me so ready to swoop in and save the day!
I immediately spot my first rescue mission just inches away. Motioning to Hope’s mouth, I say, “You have some powdered sugar right there.”
“I knew that would happen,” she replies with a groan. “Where did I put those napkins? I know they’re here somewhere.” As she searches her pockets, she struggles to keep the boat tray steady and the shopping bags from slipping off her shoulder.
“Here, let me help you?—”
“No!” Hope practically shouts before she gives me a sheepish grin. “I mean, no, thank you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to overreact.”
I eye her warily. Forget about being a superhero, I think I just turned into the villain. “I was just going to offer to hold your ?bleskivers.”
“Oh! I mean, of course you were. I knew that.”
“Did you? Because the way you reacted makes me wonder if you thought I was going to eat them, too.” I hold my free hand up in surrender. “I don’t like them that much. I’ll take steak and potatoes over these any day.”
Hope laughs. “I believe you. I feel so silly now. You’re going to think I’m out of my mind when I tell you what I was really thinking.”
I shrug. “If I told you I just called myself Super-Shaney in my head, would that make you feel better?”
“What? Why?”
“It’s a long story. But back to yours. What were you thinking about?”
She scrunches up her nose as she looks everywhere but my face. “That you were going to be like one of the guys in the romance books I read who offers to wipe the sugar off my lip with…”
Her voice is so soft, I barely hear the end of her sentence. “A napkin?”
Shaking her head, she murmurs, “Your thumb.”
“My thumb?”
She cringes. “Crazy, right? It’s just that after the leaning thing you did and everything you’ve said—you remind me so much of the male characters I read about, so my head just automatically went there.”
“And this kind of stuff happens in those stories? Where the girl gets sugar on her mouth and the guy helps her wipe it off?”
“Yes! It doesn’t have to be sugar though. It can be anything from whipped cream or chocolate or crumbs, but not huge crumbs, just small ones so the girl still looks cute. Wow, the more I listen to myself, the wackier I sound.” She slumps against the wall of the store and squeezes her eyes shut. “I need to start reading a different genre. Something more realistic, so I can get all these wild ideas out of my head. Maybe true crime?”
I can’t help chuckling. “You’re the walking definition of adorable, you know that?”
Her eyes fly open. “You’re not helping, Shaney. You’re supposed to tell me my expectations are over the top and to face reality.”
“And what’s that? What’s reality to you?”
Hope sighs. “That you’re my best friend’s brother who’s been kind enough to hang out with me all day.”
“Is that all?”
“I suppose you’re my friend, too. But that’s all we can be, Shaney, just friends.”
The waver in her voice does little to convince me of what she’s saying. I can sense her resolve breaking. Leaning in closer, I ask, “Do you want to know what my reality is?”
“Wh-what?”
“That I like you, and I think you like me, too. And if you give me a chance, I can be your very own book character who wipes sugar off your mouth, and so much more.”
And with that promise, I reach over and glide the pad of my thumb across her lower lip. It’s softer than I expect and so warm to the touch. Heat rushes up my skin and sets my insides on fire. As soon as the sugar is gone, I drop my hand.
The moment is over faster than I like, but the desire in Hope’s eyes makes me believe there will be more like this to come.