Cant Take My Eyes Off You – Libby Waterford #3
I want my life to start already, and she’s the one I want.
Finally, I tell myself that I have to at least try.
As evening approaches, I pull out a bottle of chilled white wine. I think it's a kind she likes, and I need it for the recipe, anyway. I line up two glasses and almost knock one over when I hear a car on the gravel driveway. Be cool, Mav.
I get to the front door in time to see a black SUV pull away, leaving Aurora standing alone in the driveway.
She has on the same simple summery dress she was wearing earlier, but she's pulled her long brown hair up into a loose bun. She’s wearing little makeup, if any at all, but her lips have a touch of shine to them.
She has a small bag over one shoulder, and she looks at the front of the house uncertainly, even though she’s been here many times before.
I open the door and step out, trying to channel both my dad’s confidence and my mother’s optimism. “You made it. Great. I hope your library books are somewhere safe.”
She smiles, still a little hesitant. “I left them with Mom, who swore she’d guard them with her life.”
“Whew.” I wipe my brow. “At least they’re in good hands.
Come on in.” I lead her into the house. My parents bought this place years ago when we were spending a lot of summers here.
We don’t come up as much as we used to, and they’ve mentioned selling it a few times— but so far, they haven’t.
I hope they don’t. As much as I love the city, it’s nice to have somewhere to escape to.
“Want something to drink?” I ask, trying to act like this is perfectly normal, that Aurora and I meet up for dinner, just the two of us, all the time.
“Some water for now, please,” she says, following me into the kitchen, with its view of the ocean.
The beach technically is across the street, but nothing impedes the stunning view.
I’m not looking at the view, however, but at Aurora.
Her name means “the dawn” and I can’t help feeling like this is the beginning of a new day. I swallow hard. I can’t mess this up.
I get her a glass of water and check my timing. “Chicken’s in progress. I was going to make some pasta on the side. All right?”
“Sounds amazing. I’ve been on the go all day.” She looks at her phone. “My dad wants me backstage at the concert by eight—I hope that’s okay?”
It’s not long enough, but I’ll have to make it work. “Sure. No problem.”
I put the water on for the pasta, and get myself a beer.
“It’s just us?” she asks, looking around.
“Yeah.” I wipe my hands on a dish towel. They’re unaccountably damp.
“Oh, for some reason I thought maybe your parents were here.”
“They’re in the city,” I say as I open the wine for the piccata.
“Too bad. I’d loved to have seen them. I’ll take some of that.
” She nods to the bottle, then licks her lips, causing my body to respond.
Unaware of my inner turmoil, she continues, “I mentioned to my parents that you’re in Misty Harbor, and they said they want to see you if you’re going to hang around this weekend.
There’s the concert tonight, and then the barbecue Sunday. ”
“Yeah, I’d love to see them, too.”
I’ve always gotten along well with her parents—who’re going to have very definite opinions about us, if she even wants to see if there could be an “us.” I almost say something right then, but the timer goes off for the sauce and all I can handle is small talk while I finish cooking.
We talk about the con, how amazing it is that it sells out every year even though Sawyer’s Cove has been over for two decades.
She tells me about some of the grad programs her friends from college are doing and how she’s taking the summer to figure out what she wants to do next, but she definitely wants to stay in the city.
This makes me incredibly happy to hear. We’ll be in the same place.
Instead of diving into the deep end, I tell her about my apartment on the upper west side.
I moved into it last year and am still in the process of furnishing.
She gives me the name of a secondhand store in Queens where she’s found some cool pieces.
I manage to stop myself from inviting her to join me on a shopping expedition.
When our meal is ready, I plate it to take out to the screened-in porch, where I light the hurricane lamp at the center of the wicker table. I switch off the porch light and grab our drinks.
“Mav?” Aurora says as we take our seats in the semi-darkness, the lapping sound of the water a few dozen yards away a soothing backdrop.
“Yes?” I look into her big gray eyes, my heart full of possibilities.
“Please tell me this isn’t supposed to be a date.”
Chapter 3
The flash of disappointment across his handsome face gives me my answer, even if his words say something different. “A date? No. Why would you think that?” he asks with a somewhat forced laugh.
“It’s just the dinner and the wine and the lighting…” I bite my lip and look down at the lovely meal he’s prepared for us—for me. “And we never hang out alone. I guess I’m not sure what to think.”
He looks at me then, really looks at me, his dark eyes even darker in the dim light. “I guess that’s my fault. I had a whole plan, and I’ve messed it all up. Sorry.”
“What plan? Messed what up? I’m seriously so confused right now. Also, starving.” I should have brought this up after we ate the fragrant meal.
“Oh, eat, please,” he says, putting his napkin in his lap and picking up his fork. “And I’ll try to explain.”
“That would be great,” I say, then take a bite. “Oh my god this is amazing.” I take two more bites in quick succession, then look up to find him smiling at me… fondly? I put down my fork and glare at him. “Seriously, Mav, what is going on?”
His smile fades. “Okay, so this”—he waves his hand, seeming to indicate the fact that there are only two people sharing this intimate, romantic setting—“truly isn’t a date.
This is me working up the courage to ask you…
” He takes a big breath, and in the pause, I feel every nerve in my body stand to attention, “if you would possibly consider, in a million years, ever going on a real date with me.”
“But why?” I’m back to feeling like I’m missing something vital, the way I’ve felt since the moment he came up to me in the library.
“Because, Aurora, I like you. I think you’re gorgeous and smart and hardworking and kind and talented and I would really, really like to take you on a date. If the idea isn’t horrifying to you, that is.” He gives me a crooked smile.
I try to process the fact that the beautiful boy—now a man—I’ve known my whole life, who I thought viewed me as no more or less than a pesky friend of his sister’s, is humbly offering me a chance to see if we could be something more.
“Why now?” I whisper, afraid to believe one of my longest-held fantasies might actually have a chance at becoming real. “I mean, this feels like it’s coming out of the blue.”
“Well, you had a boyfriend,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Maddy told me the other day that the two of you broke up. She also said you were in Misty Harbor for the long weekend, but I didn’t want to wait until you got back to the city.
I can’t imagine you’re going to be single for very long, so I came up to take my shot.
” His eyebrows slant together. “Unless you want to be single for a while—I’d totally respect that. I’ll wait.”
My fingertips buzz with anticipation. “What if I don’t want you to wait?” I hold my breath, wondering how he’ll respond. I’m not expecting the despondent look that steals across his face.
“No problem,” he says, struggling to smile. “It’s fine. We’ll forget I said anything, okay?”
“What?” I shake my head back and forth quickly. “No, I meant, what if I want you to take your shot now ?”
“Oh, I thought you meant you wouldn’t want—” His face clears, finally. “Wait.”
I smile at him encouragingly. He’s been so brave, and I didn’t expect this today, but I’m not passing up a chance to see if Maverick Mercier is as good a kisser as I imagined as a teenage girl with a crush. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Mav.”
His grin is brighter than the flame of the hurricane lamp. “This is excellent news.”
We start eating again, the food is only a little cold. I might have thought knowing Mav was actually interested in me would make me more nervous, but I actually feel calmer with him than I ever have. He’s only a guy, after all. And he likes me.
Something occurs to me. “So when you came to see the play I was in last year—that was because you, um, like me?”
He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Is that weird? I wanted to tell you how good you were, but I saw you afterward with your boyfriend, and I guess I felt silly about the whole thing.”
“It’s okay,” I say, still trying to understand how I didn’t pick up on the signs. As we eat, a long-buried memory swims to the top of my mind. “Remember when you lifeguarded at Misty Harbor Beach that one summer?”
“Between high school and college, yeah, I remember.”
“I used to imagine ways I might accidentally-on-purpose need you to rescue me. I thought maybe if I could get you to perform CPR on me, you’d realize how mature I was for a fourteen-year-old and you’d fall in love with me.”
He sputters over his sip of beer. “Seriously?”
“I can’t believe I told you that, but yeah.” My cheeks are hot again. I take a sip of my wine, which probably won’t help, but whatever. “Obviously, I never got up the courage to actually fake drown myself.”
“You’re too levelheaded for that,” he says.
I should be annoyed at him telling me what I’m like, except that he’s right.
“To be honest, I don’t think I would have fallen in love with you back then. I was a pretty clueless eighteen-year-old.”
“Probably a good thing, given the age difference,” I say dryly.
“But we grew up,” he says.
I hold his gaze across the table. “Yeah, we did.” He grew up into a fine man. A fine human.