“Don’t answer now,” he says. It’s hard to hear him as blood rushes between my ears. All my attention is laser focused to where our skin is touching and the way my body begins to tingle. “You’re busy and this is a big ask. I promise, if you say yes, I’ll make it worth your time. Please, just think about it.”

I nod in response, unable to speak.

“Okay.” He lets out a long, deep exhale. “Good. Thank you.”

It’s in this moment, watching the smile I’m positive has left a trail of broken hearts in its wake spread across his face in happy relief, that I realize he was nervous. Jasper Williams, Author, was nervous to ask me, Drew Young, Mess, to spend time with him. How is this even possible?

“Um, you’re welcome.” I don’t know what for, but I say it anyway. I’m not convinced this isn’t some kind of weird simulation. I half expect to see Neo come around the corner and tell me that I’ve been sucked into the Matrix or something.

“Well.” He lets go of my hand and steps away, plunging me back into reality. My hand feels cold without his around it. I miss the contact immediately. “I’ll let you get back to work. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“No worries. It wasn’t a big deal at all.” I brush off his apology and hold up the sheet of paper he handed me. “And thank you for this. I really will consider it.”

“I hope so.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I would love to get to know you more.”

After that, he aims one more panty-dropping smile my way before turning and disappearing behind the bookshelf. I stand frozen, hearing him call out a quick goodbye before the bell above the front door chimes and he’s gone.

I leave the pile of books I have yet to put away and run through the store, ignoring Dani’s confused stare as she watches me go. I twist the doorknob on Gran’s office so hard, it’s a miracle it doesn’t fall off, and sprint straight to her desk. I rip open the top drawer, finding the phone charger I keep there in case of emergencies. I untwist it with clumsy hands and it falls to the ground more than once before I plug it into the wall, impatiently tapping my foot as I connect it to my phone and wait for my screen to light up.

It feels like centuries before the white apple appears on my phone. Nerves take over my brain and I type in the wrong passcode four times before I get it correct. But as soon as I do, I go straight to my text messages, pulling up the number I didn’t even bother to save before I type in two small words.

I’m in.