16. Chapter 16 #3
“Alright, alright. Calm down there, Maeve. I don’t even know if that’s a possibility.
” I start pacing again as I try to talk some sense into her—and maybe myself.
“He told me before that he doesn’t want to date while he’s in school, and he’s still standoffish at times, so it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. ” I sigh.
“He’s thinking he wants to look into those gorgeous blue eyes of yours and feel your strong hands in his as he falls madly in love with you,” she says dreamily.
“The L word seems a bit much, don’t you think?” I ask. I doubt she hears me over her cackling.
“Why do you think Isla and I ditched you after the Royal Mile? We didn’t have a book club to go to.” She cackles again.
“Wait, what?”
“Beau,” she says with such condescension in her voice, it’s like she’s preparing to talk to the dumbest person alive, “when would two grad students have time to read books for pleasure?” I groan quietly.
“It wasn’t even a good lie! Isla and I just wanted you to have some alone time with him, somewhere other than the gym. Torin’s into you. Always has been.”
“He sure has a funny way of showing it,” I tell her, shaking my head at her scheming.
“And despite all that’s happened, you like him, too,” she says in a way that leaves little room for argument. My silence is all the confirmation she needs. There’s another squeal followed by a rousing rendition of her new favorite song, “I Knew It.”
I sit on the couch and gather myself while she sings, the grin I’m trying to suppress spreading anyway as the thought sinks in. Torin might actually be interested in me, too. The warmth travels from my center to the top of my head and the tips of my fingers and toes.
I interrupt her celebration, ready to get this over with. “Yes, I’m into him. I have been since I first laid eyes on him. Even when we fought, part of me still wanted him.”
“That’s so hot.”
“But,” I say, “a few longing looks and a Christmas invitation do not a relationship make. I mean, what am I supposed to do? You said it yourself that I can’t just confront him about it because he’ll go into hiding.”
“Then don’t confront him,” she says. “Show him.”
“Show him what?”
“Your all-American meat,” she responds.
“Maeve!” I almost yell.
Her laughter explodes through the phone again. “I’m kidding.” A pause. “Mostly.”
“Maeve!” I repeat, bracing myself for whatever advice she’s about to offer.
“Alright,” she says, her voice settling. “You need to show him that you like him and want more than friendship. Have you ever done anything that made it clear that you’re into him?”
I think about our interactions from the past few weeks.
There have been flirtatious moments, but other than our almost-kiss, I realize I’ve been actively trying not to show my interest in him.
I’ve been afraid he didn’t feel the same, and I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we’d started, so I’ve kept things as casual as possible.
“No,” I say.
“Well, there you go. If you show him that you’re into him, you make it okay for him to like you back.”
“I don’t know, Maeve,” I sigh, my depressing dating history extinguishing my excitement. “He’s so smart and driven. Handsome. He’s out of my league.”
“Beau,” she says firmly, “that is patently untrue. Torin is not out of your league. Also, and this is the best part, he thinks you’re out of his league. That’s why it would work so well! You’ll both think you’re lucky to have the other.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I mutter. She has a point, but I’m still unsure. Between my romantic past and my history with Torin, it doesn’t seem feasible. But a new glimmer of hope sparks in my chest.
“Just think about it,” she says more gently. “Keep getting to know each other, and there will be a moment where it just makes sense, and love will blossom between you.”
“You’re using that word again, Maeve,” I say, chiding. Hearing it for the second time sends a thrill of fear and something else through my system. Excitement, maybe?
“You know what I mean,” she says. “Promise me you’ll consider what I said.”
“I promise,” I say.
“Just don’t think too long because, as the Irish proverb goes, ‘You’ll never plough a field by turning it over in your mind.’”
“Meaning?” I ask.
“At some point, you’re going to have to stop thinking and start doing.”
I may not be sure where I stand with Torin, but something inside me has shifted.
For the first time in a long time, I’m allowing myself to be hopeful about a guy.
If Maeve is right—and she usually is—then Torin and I could be great together.
I just need to pluck up the courage to show him I’m interested.
I haven’t excelled at wooing men for the long term in the past, but a surge of excitement runs through me as I remember the way Torin’s face lit up when I said I’d join him for the holidays.
“Beau?” Maeve asks. “Are you there?”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling myself from my reverie. “I’m here. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I’ll talk to you later. Merry Christmas.”
“Nollaig Shona.”
But I lied to Maeve. I was actually thinking that maybe, just maybe, I will get my Christmas romance this year.