Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
NATHAN
In the history of love confessions, I think I gave the worst.
This is what happens when you binge anime instead of brushing up on romance films.
To my credit, I was not planning on sharing my feelings with Riley this morning. As I do with everything that’s important to me, I intended to craft a strategy.
When Harry Met Sally, You Got Mail, and The Proposal was on my list of curated movies to watch so I could make a splashing, dazzling, ground-breaking confession. I even threw the entire Twilight saga in the binge list because I remember that Riley loved that series when she was younger.
I planned on getting flowers, taking her somewhere scenic—the mountains, a lake, something that would photograph well.
And then I’d tell her.
But one look at her pretty face this morning and I realized that I couldn’t wait that long.
I’m eager to be Riley Carter’s boyfriend.
Except when I actually open my mouth, the words come out all wrong.
And now Chris is calling.
On impulse, I swipe my thumb across the screen and hang up.
Riley looks down at the phone and back at me. “Why’d you hang up?”
Because I’m trying to confess my love to my best friend’s little sister behind his back. I don’t want to talk to Chris right now.
Riley tilts her head and says, “He’s going to call back.”
Maybe, maybe not. But I need her to focus. This train wreck of a speech cannot end here. I have to take it home or this entire conversation will live in my head rent free and wake me up at night when I’m trying to sleep.
“Riley, meeting you has been the best part of coming to Lucky Falls. I think you’re amazing.” I lick my lips. “What I’m trying to tell you is—”
The phone rings again.
Chris is calling back.
Oh, come on!
“This is why I don’t call him,” Riley says. “He won’t stop until you answer.”
I swallow hard, defeated.
Whether or not I answer Chris’s call, the mood has been ruined and that’s the truth. I put the phone to my ear.
“What?”
“Ignore everything on the sports channel today,” Chris says urgently.
I rub the bridge of my nose. “If you’re talking about that article on me retiring, I already saw it.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Well, carry on then.”
“Is that the only reason you called?”
He interrupted my speech—sure it was a terrible speech, but it was getting somewhere—for that?
“Yeah. I thought you’d freak out if you saw.”
He’s not wrong.
“Aren’t I great?” Chris boasts. “Where else would you get a best friend like me?”
Guilt intermingles with my annoyance. Chris has been my best friend since we both got our butts handed to us by the older kids on the playground. Those bozos demanded we relinquish the swings when we were there first.
“No way,” a young Chris protested.
“You’ll have to take it from us,” I said.
And take it from us they did.
I not only earned a black eye that day, I also earned a lifelong and loyal friend.
“Next time, just send a text,” I grumble, but there’s no real harshness to my tone.
“Why? Am I interrupting something?” he teases.
Yes. “You’re not. I’m just—”
“Ah!” A shriek sounds behind me.
Glass shatters on the floor.
“What was that?” Chris says.
Slamming my thumb on the ‘end call’ button, I whirl around and find Riley standing in the center of the kitchen. She’s frowning at the floor while the mug is in pieces at her feet and a pan is overturned on the counter.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I ask wildly, checking her over for injuries. She’s in one piece and nothing seems to be bleeding.
“I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
Riley huffs in annoyance. “The handle on the pan broke while I was pouring the water into the mug. It fell on top of the cup and the cup fell on the floor—it’s alright. I’ll clean it up.” The stubborn woman starts walking, in her bare feet, toward the shattered pieces.
“Wait right there,” I say firmly.
“But I—”
While she’s arguing, I barge ahead. Slipping an arm around her waist and the other under her knee, I pick her up and tuck her close to me.
Riley’s jaw drops and she lets out a gasp of surprise.
“Your feet are bare,” I growl, noticing the way her toes wiggle when I call attention to them. “You could get hurt.”
“It’s ceramic. It’s not as dangerous as glass.”
“I don’t care what it is. I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.”
She swallows audibly.
I set Riley down on top of the counter and give her a warning look. “Don’t get any ideas. I’ll clean this up.”
She nods mutely.
Since I cleaned her apartment last night, I know where the broom is kept. I retrieve what I need and return quickly because I don’t trust that Riley will stay put.
Thankfully, she’s still on the counter where I left her. Her fingers are digging into the cheap, laminate material of the counter and she’s staring straight ahead with a dazed look.
“When was the last time you used that pan, Riles?” I ask, picking up the bigger pieces of the mug.
She shrugs and offers, “I got it as a gift three years ago. I think today was the first time anyone’s ever touched it.”
That explains why the handle broke after one touch.
“I guess you don’t cook often.” I dispose of the bigger pieces and grab the broom so I can sweep the area.
“No, I don’t cook. And like you saw last night, I’m not that great at housekeeping.
And I hate doing laundry. And I don’t wear dresses unless I have to.
And the only makeup I know how to apply is eyeliner and lipstick.
I don’t do my hair much either. I always wear a ponytail.
And I don’t wear jewelry because it gets in the way when I’m doing repair work. ”
She’s rambling.
I stop sweeping and look up at her. “Why are you telling me that?”
Riley’s staring back at me with a slightly panicked expression. “I saw you with Layla last night.”
My eyebrows climb and I rest my hand on top of the broomstick. I didn’t notice Riley looking my way last night and I was sending a whole wave of telepathic communication her way, begging her to notice me.
“If you plan on getting back with your ex, then I’d appreciate if you didn’t make things confusing,” Riley says.
She inhales, seems to dig deep for courage and continues, “And if you’re just being nice because of Chris, then I’d appreciate if you’d stop it even more.
And if… I mean, on the off chance that you…
maybe… are doing this because you like me, then I need you to think about what that means because I am not like Layla.
I’m probably not like any woman you’ve dated.
Not that we’re dating. Or that I think you want to date me. I’m just… I mean…”
My lips quirk.
Wow. She’s adorable.
And beautiful.
And awkward just like me.
“Why are you smiling?”
I let the broom drop and bypass the crash zone of pottery pieces until I get to Riley. She leans back when I step close to her. Those beautiful chocolate eyes can barely maintain eye contact.
“Riles,” I say gently.
She chews on her bottom lip and painstakingly brings her gaze to mine.
“I like you.”
Her entire body stiffens in shock and she blinks rapidly.
“I like you,” I say again. “A lot.”
Her nostrils flare and her chest pumps up and down as if she’s seconds away from bolting.
“I like that you don’t cook and that you’re not good at housekeeping.
I like your face, whether or not it has makeup on it.
And I like your body, whatever clothes you’re wearing—dresses or pants, overalls or T-shirts.
And… I don’t remember everything—you said something about jewelry?
Doesn’t matter. I like you. Everything about you.
For no other reason than because it’s you. ”
Her eyelashes are still flapping up a storm.
“Riles.” I lean forward, grabbing the counter edges on either side of her legs and caging her in.
Riley’s eyes nearly burst out of her head and she makes a mousy little squeak.
“I want the right to come over and bring you breakfast as an excuse to see you in the morning. And I want the right to text you while you’re at work. I want the right to clean up your apartment without you accusing me of hiring a cleaning service.”
She chuckles.
“And I want the right to come get you if you over do it at the Tuna again.”
Her shoulders snap straight up. “Never. I’m done with drinking.”
I chuckle and reach out to touch her messy hair. “I want the right to hold your hand and touch your hair and kiss you…”
Riley’s sharp intake of breath makes my heart pump faster.
I lean forward and Riley closes her eyes, but I don’t kiss her because I’m not done yet. Letting my forehead rest against hers, I whisper, “Riley Carter?”
“Mm?” Riley peeks at me.
“Can I be your boyfriend?”