Chapter 1
ONE
Cancer: Today you might feel overwhelmed. Get over it. Seriously. Everyone is overwhelmed these days. Don’t stress or make any major decisions. Practice self-care, meditate, and reserve energy for exciting things coming later this week. You’ve got this!
Few things are scarier than that moment when you wake up hungover and the events of the night before wash over you with sober clarity.
My stomach twists and turns, and it isn’t the bottle of wine I consumed late last night with Ginny. Though, it probably isn’t helping. Neither is the lack of sleep.
We drank, laughed, crafted elaborate and daring plans, as one does when they’re drunk, until our late night crept into the very early hours of the morning.
I sit up in my bed and squeeze my eyes closed. My head pounds.
Flakes of gold glitter dot my bedspread.
Construction paper and markers are tossed haphazardly around the floor and on my desk.
Several prototypes have also been discarded around the room.
Hearts of varying sizes in six different shades of red.
It’s like the Valentine’s Day card aisle and a Michael’s store had a baby, and that baby threw up all over my room.
Never underestimate the ingenuity of two girls after a bottle of wine.
Oh no. No, no, no, no.
No more online dating. At least the guy from last night hadn’t been fifteen years older than his profile stated.
What can I say? My standards are low, expectations even lower, thanks to several dates that ranged from boring to flat-out cringe-worthy.
I’m giving up on dating, focusing on my friendships or whatever cliché thing people say when they cannot go on one more bad date.
Besides, my friends kick ass. Case in point, last night.
Ginny is always a blast, but after another failed date, my friend really came through for me, showing up within the hour ready to console me with wine and ice cream.
I really should have known better than to get out of bed yesterday. My horoscope said I should look for the good in the worst situations. The good of last night’s date—well, I’ll figure that out when my head stops throbbing.
The apartment is quiet as I walk out of my room to the kitchen.
My roommate Dakota is already at class. If she’d been around last night, she would have stopped us.
Damn her busy schedule this semester, working and taking eighteen credits.
She’s the rational one in our friendship trio.
Ginny is the optimist, I’m the dreamer, and Dakota is our dose of reality.
I find my phone buried in the couch cushions and call Ginny. I need a little of that optimism right now.
“Good morning,” she answers. Her voice is scratchy and less bubbly than normal.
“Are you at the guys’ apartment?” I peek out of the front door across the breezeway to our neighbor’s door.
“No. I went back to my dorm when Heath left for conditioning this morning.”
I check the time. “How long before it’s over?”
“They should be finishing up now. Sometimes they go a little over. Why?”
“Why? Seriously, why?”
“Uhh...”
“The note,” I whisper-screech.
She’s still silent on the other end. Maybe I dreamed the whole thing. Nope, I’m not that lucky.
“I wrote Adam a letter last night. Heart-shaped and covered in glitter. Ringing any bells yet?”
“Ooooh. I forgot about that,” she says like I didn’t just tell her about my most embarrassing moment in recent memory. “I mean, I remember now, but I’d completely forgotten. What did he say?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. I’m hoping that he hasn’t found it. If he has, I’m moving and changing my name.” My skin goes clammy, and I take several deep breaths through my nose.
“So dramatic.”
Seriously, I don’t think she understands how bad this is. I just told a man I like him via a drunken craft project. Nothing makes a man fall harder than a homemade secret admirer letter. Groan.
“I’m going over there to grab it before he comes back.”
“Why? I thought you were ready to tell him how you feel.”
“Do you really think a red heart cut out of construction paper with glitter is the way I should do that?”
She giggles. “We were going for fun and heartfelt. My brother is a romantic.”
“He’s also a twenty-one-year-old man. I don’t think bedazzling the sentiment was my best-laid plan.”
“I think it’s sweet.”
“Well, when I decide to tell you how much I like you, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I prefer chocolates.”
“Helpful.”
“What if he’s already seen it?” she asks.
“Then I’ll send a postcard when I get settled in my new town. I have to go.”
“Relax. If he saw it, then he finally knows, and if not, then we’ll figure out another way to tell him. You have to tell him.”
“Promise me you’ll never let me craft for a man again.”
“I can’t promise that. Two glasses of wine and my judgment goes right out the window.”
“Again, helpful.”
She laughs into the phone. “Text me and let me know how it goes.”
After saying our goodbyes, I toss my phone back on the couch and cross over to the apartment where Adam, Heath, and Rhett live. I try the door, finding it thankfully open.
The living room is empty and quiet as I rush toward Adam’s room.
Their apartment has a similar setup to mine and Dakota’s place with bedrooms on either side of the living area.
Heath and Rhett are on one side and Adam on the other.
I glance over my shoulder toward the hallway that leads to the other bedrooms to make sure Heath or Rhett aren’t home.
As I get near the closed bathroom door, I hear the shower going. Crap! He’s here.
My heart races as I hurry into Adam’s room.
His scent temporarily stops me in my tracks.
Old Spice deodorant and Calvin Klein cologne.
I’m not some sort of creeper; it’s just that he’s worn both as long as I’ve known him.
There are always at least two different scents of the deodorant on the vanity in the bathroom right next to the cologne, Obsession, which stuck with me for obvious reasons.
The next thing that causes me to freeze is his bed. His white sheets are rumpled, covers thrown back. My imagination runs away from me creating vivid and amazing scenarios that include the two of us wrapped up in those sheets. Sweaty, but like that glowy, dewy look, not gross sweat.
My crush on Adam knows no respectability. For the past two years, I’ve had it bad for my neighbor. He’s just… everything. Smart and sweet, caring, protective.
He could easily be a conceited jerk. I mean, the guy is seriously hot.
He’s the captain of the Valley University hockey team, and he’s ridiculously smart.
Like straight As, premed smart. But he’s not conceited or a jerk.
Sure, he’s a bit of a playboy. He jumps from girl to girl, but not the same way his friends do.
Adam is a relationship guy. He goes all-in with every girl.
Those relationships just don’t seem to last very long.
He was with his last girlfriend for just over three months.
Three very long, heartbreaking months. For me, at least.
Giving my head a shake, I scan the room for the note.
We slid it through the crack at the bottom of the door sometime very early this morning.
A vision of Ginny and me on all fours, giggling and shushing one another, as we pushed my heart-shaped confession through to the other side makes me wince. What the hell was I thinking?
I find myself on all fours again, desperately searching for it. A trail of glitter leads me toward the bed, and I reach under it, feeling around. I pull out a dirty sock which I fling toward the hamper, and then the letter. Score!
Oh, dear lord. The nightmare version did not do it justice. It’s huge and gaudy. The heart is lopsided, one side bigger than the other. My normally neat penmanship is sloppy. I have a vague recollection of acknowledging that and saying it was my passion that couldn’t be contained in a tidy manner.
Adam,
My heart is yours.
Reagan
With another groan, I fold it three times until it fits in my palm. That line isn’t even good enough for a Hallmark greeting card. No more wine. Ever.
“Reagan?” Adam’s deep voice washes over me.
I’m still on my knees. Quickly, I scramble to my feet and force a smile. I start to speak, but the wall of naked man in front of me renders me speechless.
Fresh out of the shower with only a towel around his waist, he’s straight out of every woman’s fantasy.
At six-foot-three, two hundred and fifteen pounds (yes, I’ve memorized his height and weight from the hockey roster because, hello, mad crush over here), every delicious inch of him is chiseled.
Jaw, chest, abs, and—I’m only guessing on this one—ass.
Water drips from his dark blond hair. My gaze follows a slow trickle that dips between the valley of his pecs, down his six-pack, and then is absorbed into the white terrycloth that hangs just below his waist. Cockblocked.
Me and you both little water droplet. What I wouldn’t give to be a bead of water on his—
“Reagan? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Perfect.” My voice is tight and squeaky. Sweat beads on my forehead and between my boobs. Not the glowy sweat I was imagining happening in this room either.
One side of his mouth pulls up. His smile is my undoing every time. He doesn’t do it often. Not that he isn’t a happy guy, but Adam is serious and controlled. Even when he’s having a good time, his smiles and laughs are few.
Growing up like I did, his determination and the values he lives by speak to me in a way that I can’t describe. It’s as sexy as those rare smiles.
“What were you doing under my bed?” Hazel eyes narrow, taking in the scene.
“Oh, I…” My fist closes around the paper. “I was looking for my scrunchie. I let Ginny borrow it. I thought it might be in here.”
“A scrunchie?”
“Like a hair tie. For my hair,” I add dumbly and then comb my fingers through the tangly locks.
“Like the one on your wrist.” He points.
Right, because why would I be looking for a scrunchie when I have one? Hiding my arm behind my back, I smile. “It’s my good luck scrunchie. It’s black and has little gold stars on it.”
“I haven’t seen it, but I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Thanks. That’d be great.”
We’re in an awkward stare-off.
“Anything else?” His hands go to his waist. He’s literally waiting for me to leave so he can get naked.
Move your feet! Flee! Go! Don’t say another word!
Unfortunately, my brain works in slow motion when Adam is nearby.
Obviously, he’s gorgeous, but it isn’t his looks that make me dumb.
It’s just him. My crush is out of control.
I’ve built him up so much over the years; no one can compare.
Not even him. That’s partly why I haven’t told him.
The other reason is far too self-deprecating to admit, even to myself.
“Nope. All good,” I say finally. I lift a hand and salute him. A salute? Seriously?
“You’ve got a little…” He stops speaking and steps forward. His hand grazes my cheek. With a thumb, he strokes my skin. I melt into his touch. My eyes flutter closed. Sweet, sweet nirvana.
“What is this? Glitter?” he asks.
“Hmmm?”
His hand falls away, and I open my eyes to his finger in front of my face with a dot of gold. He’s so close I could lick the water droplets off his neck. I refrain.
“Oh, yeah. I was crafting last night.”
“Crafting, huh? Well, whatever you did, it must have been fun. Ginny was a mess this morning. Hungover as shit.” Adam moves past me and digs in his dresser. He pulls out jeans and a gray T-shirt, then socks and black boxer briefs.
Right. A mess. Like me. I’m suddenly acutely aware that I haven’t washed my face or brushed my teeth yet this morning. My standard sleep attire is shorts and a T-shirt, so I’m not exactly undressed, but I sure feel naked and unworthy standing here.
I’m still gawking too, which is about to get uncomfortable as he reaches for his towel again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird.”
“I’m good. All good.” My voice lowers like I’m some sort of suave dude. I wave him off, and the red heart falls from my hand and tumbles like a weed toward his feet.
He picks it up and looks over the red square. “Some of your crafting? What is it?”
He starts to unfold it, but I snatch it from his hands. “It was a rough concept of an idea that didn’t really work out.”
“If you did it, I’m sure it’s great.”
The compliment warms my insides. Everything he says is so perfect. “Thanks, Adam. I should…” I motion with my head. Leave before I make this any more uncomfortable.
One of those rare smiles tips up his lips. “Later, Reagan.”
I hustle out of the apartment and back to the safety of my own.
Dakota’s back from class and standing in the kitchen throwing ingredients into the blender for a smoothie.
The same one every day. Chocolate protein powder and a scoop of peanut butter.
She adds peanut butter to everything, buys it in bulk.
I’ve had so many peanut butter sandwiches since we started rooming together freshmen year; I can’t even look at a jar of Jif anymore.
“Where have you been looking like that?” She waves a peanut butter-covered spoon in my direction. “And without shoes.”
“Retrieving a secret admirer letter.” I run a hand over my messy hair again and then use my scrunchie to pull my hair back. Where is that black and gold scrunchie anyway? It isn’t exactly lucky, but it is my favorite, and I haven’t seen it in weeks.
“Oh.” Her brows lift. “Sounds like I missed an interesting night.”
“You have no idea.”