Chapter 29
History has taught me to fear the morning after big feelings come to light.
The night I told Connor I loved him, he’d been drinking, but he’d kissed me deeply … then sagged in my arms, piss drunk and passed out. The next morning when I angrily brought up him not saying anything back, he’d laughed in my face and said he’d thought I’d been joking.
The morning after that first night with Darcy, while not quite so pathetic, wasn’t much better on the emotional validation front.
Which is why I have no plans to leave my bed today, pretending to be fast asleep any time Darcy pokes her head in to check on me.
She’s even placed her fingers under my nose to confirm I’m breathing.
I give a little snore for effect (not like a grandpa-asleep-in-front-of-the-telly, rumbles-the-whole-house type of snore, but more like a tiny-fairy-curled-up-in-a-flower-for-a-nap breathy sort of vibe).
If I stay wrapped up like a warm burrito with the sunshine pouring in through the white lace drapes, nothing can touch me. No feelings can be hurt when you’re this cozy. Yesterday was too perfect to taint, and I, quite simply, refuse to face the day.
“I know you’ve been fake sleeping for an hour,” Darcy says.
My eyes flash open and land on her hovering at the side of my bed.
I blink a few times, then remember to act drowsy and disoriented. “W-wha … Huh?” I mumble, pretending to yawn.
“You’re a terrible actress.”
“I think I’m actually a very good actress, thank you very much,” I say, giving up the pretense. Darcy grins at me, then hands me a steaming mug of coffee.
I prop myself up against the headboard and grab at the cup like a needy toddler. “Did you add—”
“An ungodly amount of sugar to it? Yes, I did. No wonder your teeth are rotted,” she finishes.
I let out an indignant huff. “They were impacted. It’s very different.”
“All I know is I only add one sugar packet to my coffee and I’ve never been hospitalized for my teeth…”
I ignore her, closing my eyes as I savor the first sip. The mattress dips as Darcy climbs into bed next to me.
“Is there a reason you’re avoiding me after spending the night exploring each other’s bodies?” she asks sweetly, making me choke. She grabs my coffee and sets it on the nightstand before giving my back a hearty thump.
“Mainly to avoid awkward conversation starters like that,” I wheeze.
Darcy cackles. “So we’re gonna keep up our very healthy cycle, then? Gals just being pals?”
“You started it,” I shoot back, leaning across her to grab my mug. I meant it to be teasing, but sadness drapes across her features.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, tilting her head to the side, her hair falling across her face.
“Hey, no, no. I’m sorry,” I say, hands fluttering around her, too afraid to touch. And then I remember that I can touch her, and I waste no time drawing her to me, tucking her messy hair behind her ears. “I was trying to be funny.”
“Never been your strong suit.”
“That’s sweet, thanks.”
Darcy laughs again, head falling against my shoulder. Her laugh is my favorite sound in the world. It starts tinkly, then turns expansive and rough, reverberating straight through my chest. I want to make her laugh forever.
I keep one arm wrapped around her, her cheek nuzzled below my collarbone, and we take turns sipping my extra-sweet coffee.
“How are you feeling?” she asks after a few minutes, turning her head to look up at me. She uses the pad of one finger to stroke gently across my still slightly swollen cheek.
“Better.” In pretty much every way. The pain in my mouth isn’t anything ibuprofen can’t fix, and the fist squeezing my chest the past few weeks has eased.
Even my brain has calmed down a bit. Now that I truly have no phone to connect me to social media, I have startling, sudden peace, even if it’s fleeting.
I’m sure I’ll dredge up some anxiety on the matter later, but, right now, all that really matters is that I’m cuddled up to my best friend, her lips close enough to kiss, and, by some miracle, I’m allowed to do that.
Darcy smiles as I press my mouth to hers, and she holds me against her for an extra beat until my smile matches.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask, breaking away to take another sip of coffee. I can’t compromise my priorities.
“You aren’t allowed to do anything but help me write this song,” she says with a stern frown. “Everyone is coming down here in two days so we can get tracks laid and everything sorted. We have to have something ready.”
“Couldn’t we go swimming instead?” I ask, giving her my most pitiful look.
She boops me on the nose. “Absolutely not.”
I groan, pulling a pillow over my face.
“Well, there is one thing I’ll permit you to do outside of work on music,” she says, voice smooth and dripping with promise. I perk up, whipping the pillow away. Kissing? This sounds like a perfect setup for kissing.
“What’s that?” I bumble out with as much chill as I can muster, which is to say, none.
Color curls up her neck and across the bridge of her nose, eyes going heavy-lidded as she easily reads my thoughts.
She leans in, eyes fixed on me, mouth a whisper away.
“You could”—I feel the air ghost from her lips and trace over mine and I shiver, closing my eyes in anticipation—“talk to me about your feelings after last night.”
I choke on air, eyes flying open.
Darcy looks tremendously pleased with herself as I splutter. “What’s wrong, Cubby love? Did you have something else on your mind?”
I grab the pillow again, smacking her across the head with it. She squeals, wrestling it from me and getting up on her knees, weapon poised in the air as she prepares to strike back.
“Not my face! Not my face!” I throw my hands up in protection. She drops the pillow, squeezing a ticklish spot above my knee instead. I thrash like a fish on land. “Never mind! This is worse! Go for my face!”
Darcy laughs, stopping the torture and sliding her arms up to wrap around my middle, her cheek resting on the center of my chest as she lies on top of me. It feels so obscenely good to be with her like this, silly and wild and like everything else can wait.
I feel her swallow. “So? What are you thinking? What are you feeling?”
“Good,” I say adamantly.
Her smile presses against my sternum. “Oh wow, pulling out the fanciful adjectives and everything.”
“Need another big declaration, do ya?”
“Yes, I’m high maintenance like that,” she says primly, moving so her chin rests on my chest, eyes on me.
I tuck my lips against my teeth but there’s no hiding my smile. “Fine. I feel amazing and giddy and scared. I think last night was one of the best of my life and I stayed in bed all morning fake sleeping to avoid the possibility we were going to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I don’t want to pretend,” Darcy rushes out, face serious. “Never again. It hurts too much to pretend to feel less for you than I do.”
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “You’re my best friend. So astonishingly special to me. I’d be lost without you.”
“Me too,” she says, placing a kiss right over my heart.
Our gazes lock for a long moment, and then I clear my throat. “I do have one question, though.” I drop my hands to my sides so she won’t feel them shake.
“Hmm?”
“Are you…” Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I squirm beneath her, body tensing. Darcy senses the change, and she sits up, tilting her head in question. I lift up on my elbows, staring at the end of the bed, a stinging pressure building in my eyes.
“Am I what, Cubby love?” She places her hand on top of mine, and I rotate my wrist, twining our fingers together.
I clear my throat again. “Are you, um, my girlfriend?” I squeak out, wanting to sink into a hole of embarrassment. Why are feelings so mortifying?
Darcy is silent for a moment then asks, “Do you want me to be your girlfriend?”
The absurdity of the question snaps my gaze back to hers. “No. I only confessed my love for you in the most dramatic way possible then spent the night eating you out for us to stay platonic besties. Hope we’re on the same page.”
Darcy laughs, her nose crinkling, dimple creasing. “You were rather dramatic about it all, weren’t you?”
With an indignant grunt, I try to roll away from her, but she pounces, caging me beneath her and holding tight despite my squirming.
“Of course I want to be your girlfriend, you silly thing,” she says. “Do you want to be mine?”
“I’ve always been yours.” The words pour out of me before I can bite them back. I’m worried they’re too much. Too soon. Too true.
But instead of looking alarmed or horrified, Darcy smiles with her entire body, inhale expanding her rib cage below my palms, mouth wide and eyes sparkling.
“Well, now that that’s settled,” she says, dipping her head to kiss my shoulder, “I guess it’s time to get to work.”
If today had a flavor, it would be marshmallow fluff—deliriously sweet and delicious that had us in a euphoric sugar high. It makes writing a love song bearable when you can be honest about the inspiration.
“What about,” I ramble, doing a silly twirl in the middle of the sitting room before resuming my pacing, “something about the quiet moments? Love in the soft pauses of life?”
Darcy is hanging upside down from the arm of the couch, tracing my path. “Say more.”
“Sort of moody but bright … maybe even have Kale solo open with some pizzicato?” I balance on one leg, tipping forward as I stare at the paisley print of the carpeting, lost in the image being painted across my mind.
“A sort of do-da-do-do-da-do-do like it’s the sound version of sunshine streaming in through the white lace curtains of an open window on the first perfect spring day. ”
“With vocals next or are you imagining Harry comes in first?”
I switch legs, kicking the other out to the side. “I think vocals? A little bit reedy? Like you just woke up … Whispered love confessions are the first thing you’re saying for the day.”
“And the things said are…?” Darcy says with emphasis. Ah, lyrics, the only minorly crucial foundation of the song we keep getting hung up on.
I drop to the floor, crossing my legs and throwing my head back, blowing a raspberry as I search for words. Darcy hums the beat I started, and I turn to look at her.
She’s so damn cute it almost hurts.
“I choose you when you’re lying on my couch,” I quietly sing.
A smile blooms across her mouth, and she sits up to look at me.
“Somethingsomethingsomethingsomething something,” I mumble to the beat, making her laugh.
She props her chin in her hand, giving me an adoring look.
“I choose you because there’s nothing else I could do. ”
The blush across her cheeks gives me butterflies, and she starts curling her toes against the cushions, precious energy vibrating from her. I crawl across the carpet to sit in front of her.
I beam up at her as I sing, “And when they ask me, I can say I’m doing just fine / Cuz my girl’s kisses taste like strawberries straight from the vine.”
Darcy giggles like a punch-drunk fool. In a swift motion, she leans down to cup my cheeks, peppering kisses all over my face and hair.
“I love this beautiful brain,” she says, giving my head a little rattle.
I grab her hand, kissing a trail from the tips of her fingers to the crook of her elbow simply because I can.
“Song’s perfect, we can stop working now,” I say, a hopeful lilt to my voice.
Darcy snorts. “Yeah, I really love the somethingsomethingsomething part.”
“That’s my favorite part too. Can’t wait to show Kale.”
“He texted me a little bit ago,” she says, tapping her phone screen to life. “Said everyone should be here around noon tomorrow.”
“Has anyone warned the good townspeople?”
Darcy laughs. “We have a lot of work ahead of us.”
“Which is why we should quit now and enjoy our last few hours of peace.”
“Twist my arm,” she says, rolling her eyes and smiling at me. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Hmm.” I tap my chin. “What food is a good idea when you’re devastatingly happy?”
Darcy’s smile puts the sun to shame. “Pizza and ice cream it is.”