Chapter 31
CONTROLLED ZONE ENTRY: ENTERING THE OFFENSIVE ZONE WHILE KEEPING POSSESSION
Iknow I’m overthinking this.
I know it in the same way I know my left knee is going to ache when the weather turns or that I shouldn’t drink coffee after six p.m. It’s knowledge earned the hard way—and still, here I am, pacing my living room in brown corduroy pants and a scruffy green T-shirt, tugging at the hem like it might suddenly reveal some catastrophic flaw.
“It’s a Halloween party,” I mutter to myself. “Not a job interview.”
My phone buzzes on the counter, a response to a message I sent out in my brooding earlier.
Dr. Halvorsen:
Everything okay?
I stare at the message, then type back.
Me:
I think I’m spiraling about a party.
Dr. Halvorsen:
Want to talk?
Five minutes later, I’m sitting on my couch with the phone to my ear, staring at the van keys on the coffee table like they’re judging me.
“You’re putting an inordinate amount of pressure on yourself. Why?”
“Because it’s Amy,” I say immediately. “And her colleagues. I want to make a good first impression.”
“Has she said she’s worried?”
“No.”
“Then whose expectations are you trying to meet?”
I close my eyes. “Mine.”
Silence stretches. Not uncomfortable. Intentional.
“Brennan,” he says gently, “Take a deep breath and relax. Enjoy yourself. You’re stressing out about something that may not come to fruition. All Amy cares about is you being by her side.”
I exhale. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to perform and earn your place tonight.”
“I know,” I say. “I just want tonight to be special.”
“It already is. You’re going. And you’re doing it as yourself.”
I glance at the Scooby stuffed dog I bought earlier to add an additional prop to our costume. “Define ‘yourself,’ Doc,” I say dryly.
He laughs. “Okay. As much as your costume allows.”
I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “So, what if something goes wrong?”
“Then it does and you fix it the best you can.”
“Since I know Amy values intention over perfection, I’ll believe you.”
“I’m glad you reached out.”
“I can do this.”
“You already are. Oh, and Brennan?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t forget to have fun.”
I hang up, grab my jacket, and head out before my brain can talk me out of the fact that Amy wants me by her side tonight.
I just hope it’s a night she’ll never forget.
The VW van is exactly as ridiculous as I hoped. Turquoise and white. Despite it being lent in perfect condition, I still took it to be professionally detailed. It’s been polished to within an inch of its life. It shines so much I can practically see the stars twinkling off the hood.
I even secured Scooby in the back near the window. He’s buckled in like a good boy, tongue lolling, eyes permanently wide.
“I really hope Amy likes this.” Despite talking with Dr. Halvorsen about intent, I’m still anxious. After pulling up in front of her apartment building, I call her. “Hey. I‘m here. Want me to come up?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right down so you don’t have to park.”
From where I’m loitering, I can see the light flick out in her bedroom only for it to turn on in her living room. Remembering what we did there, my cock swells and presses against the front of my pants.
I remember what it felt like to hold her in my arms, to taste her. I remember what it felt like for her heat to surround me. I fling open the door so I can be on Amy’s side to open the door for her. It has the added benefit of letting me suck some air into my lungs.
When her apartment door opens, my tongue practically rolls out of my mouth at the sight of Amy in a short, red pleated skirt that barely covers her ass. I’m speechless.
She’s everything I ever wanted. Everything my heart needs. Mentally, I’m begging her to give me a true second chance. To let me be a part of this new life she carved out for herself. Just as my knees are about to give out, she stops dead and points at the van. “Oh, my god.”
I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I may have gone overboard. “Hi,” I say. “Before you say anything—”
“You…your hair—”
I show off my newly shorn hair before I confirm, “Shaggy, at your service.”
“And the van—”
“Borrowed.”
She walks around it slowly, hands over her mouth, then turns back to me, eyes bright. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“You’d better believe it. I wanted tonight to be amazing.”
She doubles over laughing. That sound alone makes the last two hours—hell, the last few days—of anxiety worth it. “It’s ridiculous,” she says.
“I know.”
“And perfect.”
I beam.
“I love it,” she adds.
That—that—hits me right in the chest.
She steps closer, adjusting her orange sweater, knee-high socks perfectly Velma, glasses perched just right.
The only difference is her long thick black hair that hangs like a curtain down her back.
I feel the stirring in my pants again and warn myself, That’s not what tonight’s about. Still, I remark, “You look…”
She spins, causing her pleated skirt to flare slightly. The move makes me want to pin her to the nearest flat surface. I ache knowing there’s a van behind us that could accommodate the way I want to reward her for looking so fucking irresistible. “Like I solve mysteries?”
“Like you solve mysteries and ruin men for sport.”
“That was Daphne, not Velma.”
“Then boys were dumb because Velma’s got it going on.”
She snorts. “Come on, Shaggy.”
We climb in. The sight of Scooby earns me a gasp before she strokes the fur of his closest paw. “You even thought of this,” she murmurs softly.
“I told you,” I reply. “I wanted tonight to be amazing.”
She reaches for my hand. “Thank you for all of this.”
I squeeze it once before letting go and starting the van. “Always.”
The party is exactly what she said it would be.
The teachers have all tried to one up each other with clever costumes. There’s a dessert station that rivals most weddings. Still, I’m stuck on something. “You failed to mention your principal’s commitment to charcuterie.”
She nods at the man dressed as a spreadsheet. “He brings it every year. I think he had the bat board custom made.”
I laugh. “Oh, the things we care about.”
Her lips twitch. “Like your appearance at a party that’s not going to be covered by StellaNova?”
I lift up one of the cat-faced cream puffs and pop it into my mouth. “Arek Ronan would be jealous. He appreciates good food and his wife doesn’t cook.”
Amy barks out a laugh, which causes all eyes to swing in our direction. Because the moment calls for it, I yelp, “Zoinks!”
She slaps a hand over my mouth before dragging me out onto the makeshift dance floor. A slow song by John Mayer comes on that has me pulling Amy into my arms. Every worry I had earlier disappears as I sway back and forth with her in my arms.
Just then, her head lifts off my chest. Her smile washes away all of my fears. I brush a loose strand of hair away from her face. “Having fun, my queen?”
“Tons. There’s just one problem.”
“What?”
“I really want to be alone with you.”