Page 38 of The One Where They Fall in Love

He tilts his head. “I mean, very enjoyable. You’ll hear no complaints from me,” he says with an airy laugh.

“But did you feel any—?”

“Spark?”

“Yeah,” I say with a sigh.

“I really want to say yes,” he says, a defeated expression crossing his face.

“Ugh, me too!” I say exasperated. I step away from him, one hand still on his shoulder.

I look down at the ground. Letting someone down is sonotsomething I do. I try to make things work until the very end. Heck, the last guy I dated I kept around until I literally forgot about two dates in a row. What was his name again? John? Lucy would know.

I sway nervously. “I really like you, Henry. I’m not trying to sound cliché when I say you are such a great guy.”

“But…” he starts. “Things just aren’t clicking.”

A wave of relief comes over me, and my body unclenches. “You feel it too?” I say, a sigh in my voice. He nods shyly.

“Ugh, I am so sorry,” I say, exasperated. “Like, you don’t even know how sorry—” And for some reason, I reach out and hug him. I don’t know why, but it happens so fast, both Henry and I don’t know what to do about it. We stand there awkwardly for a second, his arms barely around my back and mine laying limply on his shoulders. Our faces are so close, I can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Hey, Elle, you have nothing to apologize about,” he says, resting one hand lightly on my hip. “You go out with people and sometimes it doesn’t work out. I still think you’re a great person. Not to sound cliché.” A small smile turns up the corner of his lips.

Good God in Heaven, why can’t it be him? Why am I so broken that I can’t accept this nice man in front of me forwhat he is? Why do I have to want more? Am I asking for too much?

Never settle for anything less than fireworks.

“I think you’re great, too,” I say, a pathetic look on my face, cringing at the fact that I’m repeating myself. I start to say “I’m sorry” again, but the look on Henry’s face stops me. “Oliver is going to be so disappointed in his first attempt at matchmaking,” I add instead.

Henry cackles. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” I give him a questioning look. “Never mind. Hey, I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I reply. Henry backs up, holding on to one of my hands until the last moment, before letting it drop. As I watch him walk down the street, I should feel some disappointment, like I’m letting a good thing go. Instead, I feel relief. I was putting on a show for Henry, and trying to please Oliver by keeping up my end of the deal. But this is what is right for me.

And doing something that is right for me feels like its own form of fireworks.

Eighteen

Oliver

When Sunday arrives, I spend way too much time explaining to Thor that I’ll be back in a couple of hours and telling him to be a good boy. I talk as I put his leash on, which he has become quite fond of chewing. I’m sure Elle doesn’t reprimand him when he does it. I shake my head at the goofball, who has his butt in the air while he bites the leash into submission. I genuinely don’t think he cares about me leaving him.

I do think he’s definitely done growing. His legs are still stout, but his body is longer, and I can see the muscles of his shoulders becoming more defined. I take a photo and send it to Sophia as a form of peace offering.

When I drop Thor off at Elle’s door, she’s still in her pajamas. I usually see Elle in her work attire or loungewear, so “sleepy Elle” is a bit of a shock to me, reminding me of the night we first met. What’s more of a shock is that she’s wearing shorts that can barely be seen under her oversized t-shirt. A t-shirt that is once again extremely threadbare andwhite, which leaves little to the imagination. Today’s shirt reads:I like my books like I like my tacos, just a little bit SPICY.

Her hair is up in a sloppy bun, which might be my second favorite way to see it, aside from it laying long across her shoulders. She looks adorable when it bobs on top of her head as she talks.

I’m dying to ask her about her date with Henry last night, but I have no right to ask that. Although, I am the one who set them up. But maybe it would still come off as creepy? I decide to let myself stew in agony for a little longer, because it seems like the right thing to do.

Oh fuck it, I’ll text Henry when I get on the train.

Elle brightens when she sees Thor, and gets down to his level to greet him. “Finally! I have you all to myself for a whole day! What do you want to do today, bud?” she says in an animated voice. She scoops up Thor’s belly and awkward legs and sways him in her arms. “Pack a bag and head to Canada? He would never catch us.”

“I have connections. I would catch you,” I say, folding my arms.

“I’m sure. You have a real mafia look about you,” she agrees.

“A mafia look?”