As my crush turns into an avalanche of Eliot, I think of him all the time now. But if he knew who I was, the entire house of cards we’ve built this relationship on would come toppling down.

I want him to be mine, but we might never be more than just a sweet dream . . .

Dedication

For everybody with tool belts.

(Literal ones and emotional ones.)

If you work hard to fix problems, this book is for you.

Chapter One

Jessie

“Hey, you still up?”

I nearly choke to death on the humongous bite of dry chocolate cake in my mouth. It’s almost 2 a.m., I’m sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter in my dad’s apartment, and I’m pretty sure I just got drunk-texted by the man I have a debilitating crush on.

Only, that wasn’t just a text. That was a voice message he texted me. I was not expecting to suddenly hear that movie-star voice in the middle of the night, in the middle of this shoebox kitchen, in the middle of a slice of bad cake that will seriously not budge an inch down my throat. I try to swallow the bite again, and when it still doesn’t give up the ghost, I spear my fork into the center of the cake slice for safekeeping and lean over to drink straight from the faucet.

Water runs down my chin, over my ear, and into my hair, and I’m a soggy, gasping mess by the time I give my phone my full attention again. I play the voice message that was just texted to me one more time.

“Hey, you still up?”

This has to be a mistake, right? He’s never texted or called me before. Not even during daylight hours. I glance at the clock on the screen of the ancient microwave and even though it’s missing most of its pixels I still confirm that it is, in fact, the middle of the night. It’s officially booty o’clock and he definitely just you up?ed me.

The question is whether or not he knows who it is he just propositioned. This has to be a misdial?

So, where do I go from here? Pretend I didn’t get it and leave him to discover his mistake on his own? That’s probably best . . . but . . . the thing is . . . this guy is so cute. Like, stupid cute. And cute isn’t even usually my bag. But he’s got this big, handsome puppy thing going on that just really . . . makes me wanna . . . Look, there’s no way I’m not texting him back.

I’m sure this was a mistake on his end, but that doesn’t mean it’s not an opportunity on my end and it’s the middle of the night, and I just wanna talk to him.

I text back Yeah? with a question mark.