Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
QUINN
I’ve been standing in the alley outside of Zoey’s loft for an hour, bundled in my jacket, bouncing between my feet, and rethinking everything.
Not rethinking that I want to be with Zoey.
That, I know. To the deepest part of myself, in a place I didn’t know existed, in a place that she opened for me with her smile and kindness and unapologetically positive outlook on the world, I know I want to be with Zoey.
No, what I’m rethinking is not bringing gloves.
And a hat. And definitely boots. These tennis shoes are not working in this weather, and who knows why I grabbed those in my rush to leave rather than my work boots that were tucked right next to them in the closet.
But after talking with Morgan, and picturing Zoey laughing while splitting a breadbasket and bottle of wine with Josie, adrenaline surged through my veins, and I bolted from the house.
Snowflakes descend from the sky, butterflying to the ground, each one picking up the glint from the streetlights.
My breath comes out in a fog. I tug the scarf up to cover my mouth, blink the plump flakes from my eyelashes, and check my watch.
I could probably sit inside Truck Norris like a sane human, but then when Zoey appears, it will ruin what I want to do.
Before tingling creeps in my toes, I hop in place to get my blood pumping.
I saw Zoey’s call and text message but couldn’t answer.
This is something that can’t be done over the phone, and I have zero willpower.
If I picked up, I’d unleash all this pent-up emotion and stumble over my words like a snowball rolling down a rocky hill.
This conversation needs to happen in person, where I can see Zoey’s face.
I need to read the way her eyes flicker and if she chews on the corner of her lip or twists and tugs on her fingers.
Or if her mouth curves up in that playful way that I love, or if she is blushing.
Or… if sadness and regret fill her eyes that she has to turn me down.
There is no room for miscommunication, not for something as serious as this.
I need to assure Zoey if she’s not interested, I’ll still be friends.
The relationship we have is so valuable and unique, that I won’t give it up, no matter what.
But I also need to be honest with her and tell her I don’t know what this looks like.
It’s scary and I don’t want to run, but I’m scared that something will spook me, and I will run.
Right now, I want to fuse myself with her, but will I always feel like this?
This need, this longing, reaches parts of my untouched soul.
I need her to be patient and to believe in me, and to hold me when I’m scared and to let me hold her when she’s scared.
I want to make her breakfast and feed her strawberries and watch old movies and kiss her mouth and run my fingers through her hair and… So yeah. I can’t answer her call.
I kick at a small rock, and it flings against the side of the building.
When I pivot, my breath halts. Zoey’s at the edge of the alley, wrapped in a long brown peacoat.
A cascade of chestnut waves flow down the sides of her shoulders, a soft green knitted beanie rests on her head, and she pulls a mitted hand to cover her mouth.
Even from a hundred feet away, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her more beautiful.
Now or never. Zoey moves towards me with slow, curious steps, the faint sound of her boots on pavement echoing in the quiet alley.
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.
The streetlamps and alley lights flicker, casting a warm glow in the night sky, and the snowflakes glisten in the light.
Butterflies squirm in my belly, wanting to take flight.
I swallow. With the slightest shake in my finger, I tap play on my iPhone and cup my hand around the speaker to amplify.
The song bursts out, and I hold the phone high above my head.
Zoey’s footsteps grow quicker and a wide smile spreads.
My heart thumps in my ears, steady and quick.
The music echoes against the brick walls, her heels click against the pavement.
A few steps in and her curious walk morphs into a determined, intentional speed walk.
Be brave, be brave. Do not chicken out now.
I just need to tell her how I feel and that she deserves happiness.
And so do I.
My heart settles. So do I. And Zoey makes me happy.
Her hair bounces with every step, her cheeks pink from the winter air, and God…
she’s just so beautiful. She radiates a warmth that I crave, that I’ve been searching for without knowing what I was missing.
Zoey is the one I want to be with, the one that makes me think that miracles are possible.
She’s the one who saw my wall, took a hammer to it, and elbowed her way into my heart.
As she approaches with foggy glasses and a wide smile, she cocks her head at my phone. “Are you Cusacking me?”
I slowly lower the phone.
“With a Chappell Roan song?” she asks.
“It’s a lot of pressure!” I smile and tap stop, cutting the music. “I didn’t quite realize how iconic that movie scene was, or how perfect that song was for the moment, and I panicked. Had no idea what to choose.”
Zoey removes her fogged glasses and gives them a wipe. When she slides her glasses back up her nose, she lifts a brow. “‘Pink Pony Club’ is… an interesting choice.”
“You love Chappell Roan.” I shove the phone into my pocket. “I debated between this and Nirvana’s ‘Heart-Shaped Box’ because that sounded romantic, but then I googled what the lyrics meant and… well, it wasn’t quite the vibe I was going for.”
Zoey’s mouth twists and she studies my face. Really studies it, to the point where the chill I felt before this moment swaps, and I’m dangerously close to overheating.
“So, this is not about trying to make good on your anchovies bet?” she asks, her voice more timid than I’ve heard before. “You’re trying to be… romantic?”
Yes. Trying being the operative word here.
Failing is probably a better word. For someone known for being chatty, I’m currently forgetting all my words.
Christ, this is so scary. My mouth is dry, and I’m about two seconds away from sticking my tongue out to catch some of the soft fluttering snowflakes to replenish some moisture.
“Romantic? Did I say that? Where did that word come from?” My voice is unnaturally high and skittery, and I cringe at the sound.
Zoey tilts her head, rightfully so.
“I’m sorry. God, what is wrong with me?” Why am I being so weird?
My thoughts are all over the place. I have so many things I need to say, but none of them are taking the shape I want.
I suck in a sharp, cool inhale. “Did Josie want to get back together?” I pull my lips into my mouth and hold my breath waiting for the answer.
Zoey tugs the top of her jacket a little tighter. “Yes, she did.”
My snow-covered world and Christmas-miracle dreams crumble. Please say you didn’t say yes. Please say you’re not thinking about it. I want to shake Zoey by the shoulders. Maybe Josie is a perfectly lovely human, but I want to be with Zoey. I want to be with Zoey. My lips tremble.
Run. Run away now. Save yourself and potential heartache.
“Are you okay?” Zoey takes a step toward me and lays a mitten-covered hand on my arm.
I blink off the snowflakes from my lashes.
“Please don’t get back together with Josie.
I mean, not unless you want to, but oh my God, I hope you don’t want to.
I just… I feel like I have so much stuff to tell you.
How you make me feel, and that I think about you so much, like so much that I wonder if I’m obsessed, and I want to be like you.
Your kindness rubs off on me, and makes me want to be nicer to people, and I promise you I’m actually not that nice, so this is a huge deal. ”
The words are an avalanche, roaring from me, tumbling, and I can’t stop. Everything in me bubbles to the surface. The time pressure of Zoey slipping through my fingers, that I might be too late, weighs on my chest.
My chin quivers, but I power on. “And you are just so inspiring. Do you know that, Zoey? You inspire me to be a better person. No matter what, promise me right now that if I say what I’m going to say, and you think differently, we will stay friends.
Because I want you in my life, okay? In any way you’ll have me… ”
The rambling is embarrassing, not at all how I wanted this to go, but my thoughts are scattering like pine needles in a tornado, and I cannot grasp on to any single one with even a sliver of coherency. Zoey’s quiet, still, her cheeks rosy, but her smile… Her smile’s soft and comforting.
“Would you ever take a chance on something else?” We’re outside, but there’s still not enough air to get this all out. My pulse pounds in my head, rings in my ears. “Would you take a chance on me, you, us?”
“Yes.”
Wait, what? One simple word, delivered with a smile. Said so quickly, no hesitation, like she expected it. Did she even hear me? Does she understand exactly what I’m talking about?
“Yes?” I croak, searching her eyes behind the misted glasses, the curve of her lips, the way she inches closer to me. “On which part? I just threw a lot at you, like a ton, and I want to make sure we are clear so there’s no miscommunication—”
Her mitted gloves cup my cheeks, the soft wool fibers tickle my skin, and she pushes her lips into mine.
Gentle at first, a pillowy soft kiss, but enough where my knees nearly give in.
“Yes.” Her gaze pins me before she presses her mouth back onto mine, a little stronger, a little longer.
Her kiss is like warm brown sugar on a chilly day, and I’m officially melting. “Yes to everything.”
Yes? Like yes, yes? This is too easy. My heart has officially left my body and is moving into some dreamlike winter wonderland.
I’m in a snow globe that a toddler is shaking, and everything feels scattered and surreal.
Her smile reaches her eyes, her lips curve up.
I blink. Is this real? “Um, I don’t want to question this, but I’m questioning this.
This all seemed too smooth, and traditionally, you know, things in my life are not smooth. ”
Zoey steps back with a soft grin. “Were you hoping for resistance?”
For the last hour as I paced outside of her loft, I had visions of how we’d play out this conversation.
I imagined she’d run into my arms and just say yes.
I replayed it over and over in my mind. But I didn’t really think it would happen just like it did.
Maybe I’m in some sort of lucid dream and any moment now I’m going to be nudged awake.
“No, I mean, of course not. I just… What’s happening here? How is this just so easy?”
Zoey’s eyes dash between mine. “I left Josie at the restaurant to come find you,” she says with a soft voice. “I called you. I texted you, too.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I knew I’d break if I talked to you on the phone, and I wanted to tell you this in person.” I tug on the edges of Zoey’s scarf, and she tiptoes near me. “Why did you leave Josie?”
Zoey looks down, the redness in her cheeks getting stronger. “I needed to find you. I wanted to see if you’d take a chance on me.”
My heart leaps and locks in my chest. She wanted to know if I’d take a chance on her?
A million times over, yes. The snow, the stars, the moon, everything is in alignment.
Zoey and I want the same thing, feel the same thing.
There is no misunderstanding. Nothing has ever felt so right.
I pull her into me, kiss her, harder this time, breathing in her vanilla and honeysuckle scent.
Hands wrap around my waist, dragging my body into hers.
Snow falls between our lips, on our hair, combating the warmth I feel with a burst of chill.
Zoey pulls back, and gives me a look I’ve never seen before. A switch has flipped. A devilish, glorious gleam in her eyes, a hike in her eyebrows, and a long, leisurely gaze runs from my toes to my mouth to my eyes. “Upstairs?”
Oh God, it’s happening. It’s. Happening.
I grab her hand. “Upstairs.”