Chapter 35 Chanel #2
of bigger conspiracy involved, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind us, I was pulling him to me. I still held the half-filled
popcorn bucket in one hand, didn’t have time to think about setting it down, didn’t care. He tasted like caramel and butter
when he kissed me, his lips just as soft, and I stood on my tiptoes, wanting even more.
“Wait, Chanel,” he said between breaths. “There’s something I . . . need to ask you.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’re proposing.” I was joking, but his face flushed as he drew back a few inches to look at me properly.
“I know we’ve been doing this for a while, and it’s never been a question, whether I belong to you,” he began, more formal
than I’d ever heard him. “But I did want to make sure, in case you felt differently—do I get to call you my girlfriend?”
I stared at him, the champagne-bubble thrill of the moment—the burnt sugar on my tongue, his hands on my waist—melting into
a deeper, more potent pleasure, almost an ache. The emotion rose in my throat, and I ducked my head, laughing, barely able
to form words.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“No, it’s not funny,” I said, wondering how I could possibly explain it to him. This was what the poems and the ballads and
the paintings were for, I thought. This precise feeling. “I’m just really, really happy.”
But maybe I didn’t need to explain, because the look that crossed his face—I suspected he knew. He took the popcorn bucket
from me and placed it on the counter behind him, eliminating any remaining obstacle between us, any distance, any doubts I’d
ever had. I could feel the hitch in his breath when he wrapped his arms around me and murmured, “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” I said. Yes, yes, yes, my heart echoed, a thousand times over. “I feel like I should warn you, though. Being my boyfriend isn’t an easy job. I like
to buy pretty things—”
“I’ll buy you anything you want,” he said instantly.
I bit back a smile. “I can take forever to pick out my outfits, especially if we’re going to a big event—”
“I don’t mind waiting for you. However long it takes.”
“And there are a lot of big events I need to go to,” I continued, my words half muffled by the cotton of his shirt.
“I can hold your purse and your coat on the way there, and I can hold your heels for you on the way back.”
“People might gossip about you, if you’re with me. I mean, they’re definitely going to find out, one way or another.”
“That’s a good thing,” he said, without missing a beat. “That way they’ll all know you’re taken.”
“I can be temperamental too.”
“Helps keep things interesting.”
“I’m extremely high-maintenance.”
“It’d be an honor to maintain you.”
“And I might need you to help take photos of me.”
“I would hope so. It gives me an excuse to look at you.”
With a small, contented sigh, I did something I’d never done with anyone else before: I sank completely into his arms, letting
him carry the full weight of me. “You really have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“It’s a basic requirement for being Chanel Cao’s boyfriend.”
And he’s met every other requirement since, things I didn’t even know to ask for, like bringing a scrunchie for me when I
forget my own so I can eat without fussing over my hair, or walking me the five steps from the car to my house when it’s dark,
or filling up a thermos of hot water for me to sip when the weather’s cold. I’ve never been so glad to be wrong about how
love works.
“I’m taking Luke out to get pizza next weekend,” Ares is saying, pulling me back to the present. “Do you . . . want to maybe come meet him?”
I lift my head. “Wow. Are you officially introducing me to your family now?”
“Can I?”
“What do you think?” I say, laughing. “Obviously. I was hoping you’d ask. I’ll put it on my calendar.”
Next weekend. Next month, and the one after that. A whole future to look forward to, more things to get excited about than
to dread.
For a few moments, everything is quiet. Quiet enough to hear the lake water sloshing against the stone banks, the whisper
of wind through the willows, my own heartbeat when he touches me. Just the underside of my wrist with his pinkie finger, as
if to reassure himself that I’m real, that I exist.
“I bought something, by the way,” he says.
“That’s good. You should start spending more money on yourself,” I say seriously.
“Something for you,” he clarifies.
I blink. “What, another nonbirthday birthday gift?”
“Something like that. Here.” He retrieves a small velvet pouch from his jacket pocket, and gestures for me to hold up my hand.
A silver necklace spills out onto my outstretched palm. I stare down at it, speechless, my heart straining to contain all
that I feel. The pendant is a crescent moon, with a single diamond dangling like a star from the end. It’s beautiful. It might
be the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received in my entire life.
Softly Ares says, “I hope you know I really mean it. I would be willing to give you everything. Even the moon.”
“You already have,” I tell him. I push my hair over one shoulder, exposing the back of my neck to him, the most vulnerable
part of my body. “Can you help me?” I ask, even though I could clasp and unclasp a necklace with my hands tied. Yet it’s nice
to be helped anyway, to let myself want him even when I don’t always need him.
The silver is cool against my skin as he moves behind me to adjust the chain, but his fingers are warm, careful, wonderfully
gentle. When he’s done, the necklace falls over the burn mark on my collarbone, just above my heart.
“Thank you.” I whirl back around to wrap my arms around him again, and I have to marvel at how safe I feel, how much it makes
sense, even though it’s the last thing I’d expected. If I’d seen a vision of this future two months ago, I would’ve sworn
I was hallucinating. It should be impossible to feel this much, really, to be this open and tender and happy and known, but so is seeing visions in a midnight lake’s reflection. So is giving someone the moon.
“Anything, for you,” Ares says, pulling me closer to him.
And the moon glows above us, its light just as beautiful as the present, just as bright.