Chapters (89)
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ONE
- HENRY
- TWO
- EMMA
- THREE
- HENRY
- FOUR
- EMMA
- FIVE
- EMMA
- SIX
- SEVEN
- HENRY
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- HENRY
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- EMMA
- THIRTEEN
- HENRY
- FOURTEEN
- HENRY
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- EMMA
- SEVENTEEN
- HENRY
- EIGHTEEN
- HENRY
- NINETEEN
- HENRY
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- EMMA
- TWENTY-TWO
- EMMA
- TWENTY-THREE
- HENRY
- TWENTY-FOUR
- EMMA
- TWENTY-FIVE
- EMMA
- TWENTY-SIX
- EMMA
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- HENRY
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- EMMA
- TWENTY-NINE
- HENRY
- THIRTY
- HENRY
- THIRTY-ONE
- HENRY
- THIRTY-TWO
- EMMA
- THIRTY-THREE
- HENRY
- THIRTY-FOUR
- EMMA
- THIRTY-FIVE
- EMMA
- THIRTY-SIX
- HENRY
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- EMMA
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- HENRY
- THIRTY-NINE
- HENRY
- FORTY
- EMMA
- FORTY-ONE
- HENRY
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- EMMA
- FORTY-FOUR
- EMMA
- FORTY-FIVE
- HENRY
- EPILOGUE
- ALSO BY CHELSEA CURTO
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“Wow, Nic, say it a little louder next time so he hears you.”
“And would that be the worst thing in the world?”
“For Henry to know I find him attractive? Yes. Yes, it would. I’m not sure his ego can sustain much more inflation. Poor thing stands to burst any day now.”
“I knew it!” Nicole says, hitting my desk. “I knew I could get you to admit he’s hot. It might have taken years, but it’s finally happened. Hallelujah!”
“Who cares? He knows he’s hot. Everyone else in the world knows he’s hot. It doesn’t matter if I agree with them. My opinion doesn’t sway the vote.”
“Mhm. Whatever you have to tell yourself,” she laughs, pulling out our food from the bag she brought. “Salad and a slice of pizza for you.”
“Thank you!” I take the wrapped package and set it on my desk. As soon as I open the plastic covering, my phone buzzes. I grab it, disregarding the steaming slice of cheese waiting for me. JD’s name appears.
JD: That depends, Zebra Cakes. What kind of answer do you want to hear?
JD: The nice guy version? Or the not-so-nice guy?
He’s letting me dictate how this conversation proceeds. I have a choice, and I weigh the options. Deciding what I want, I type out my response.
RB: It’s open for interpretation. However, I distinctly remember us agreeing to be open and honest with each other.
RB: I’m also partial to the not-so-nice guy.
RB: So, take that however you’d like.
JD: Let’s see… I go out with friends.
JD: Lately, though, a lot of my nights have been spent at home.
JD: Thinking about you.
JD: For some reason, I can’t get you out of my goddamn head.
JD: I’ve tried. Really fucking hard, Sunflower. But nothing works.
RB: What about me?
“You’re smiling and, oh my God, are you blushing?”
“No!” I say, momentarily forgetting I’m in a very public place embarking on what might turn into a very private conversation. It thrills me to know he’s going along with this. And, holy hell, every time he calls me Sunflower I almost crumble.
“Yes, you are! You never smile at your phone! Your cheeks are so pink.”
“That’s not true! I smile at my phone plenty!”
“You’re avoiding the question. Who is he?” Nicole demands. Dammit. There’s no fooling her.
“No one,” I sigh, shaking my head.
It’s not allowed to be anyone. I’m in unchartered territory, dropped in the ocean without a lifeboat, deadly waves crashing around me.