Page 97 of Movers and Fakers

“I told him when we were in New York last weekend.” Heat climbs up my neck as I think of that night. “Well, he told me he loved me first, but I said it back and I meant it.”

We spent the rest of the evening eating melted ice cream and talking. Kissing, too … until Hayes finally murmured that he was too tired to resist me and dragged his feet back to his room. Since being back we’ve talked every day and have seen each other as many times as our schedules will allow. I didn’t tell my roommates much about the trip, only about what we saw and that dinner with his parents was rocky but okay.

Saylor pulls Marigold’s hand away and sighs, “That’s so romantic.”

I laugh. “I barely said anything.”

“Then tell us the story!” Jasmine says, then adds, “If you want to. We can talk while you pour batter into the tin?”

“Okay,” I agree warily.

We convene in the kitchen. Marigold starts up the coffee maker, and Jasmine starts pulling out ingredients for breakfast. Saylor starts wiping down the kitchen island. All of them being preoccupied helps take the pressure off my storytelling abilities.

As I spoon batter into the lined muffin tin, I tell them everything. From the jet to the studio to dinner to dessert in my room. I keep some details to myself, especially the ones involving Hayes’s personal life and family dynamic. They all squeal and giggle and gasp throughout, making me feel as though maybe I’m not so bad after all. Either that, or their standards for conversation from me are very low.

No matter the case, I find myself feeling light and bubbly after telling them, as though I got to relive the weekend all over again.

“It sounds like you two are perfect for each other,” Saylor gushes.

“I wouldn’t have thought it would work, because you’re so different. But I guess it’s like characters who foil one another—it just works,” Marigold adds, always one to contribute a literary element to the conversation.

“He takes care of you, and I think that’s what you need,” Jasmine says with a sweet smile.

I shrug, my face warm. “I guess so.”

Mercifully, the conversation shifts away from me. Saylor starts outlining her plan to reorganize her closet, and Jasmine says that she could use some help making hers look less like Tornado Alley. As they’re chatting and piddling about the kitchen, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and smile when I see a text from Hayes.

Prince Charming: Good morning to the most beautiful woman in the entire universe. I hope you’re resting plenty after this week, Sleeping Beauty. Let me know when you wake up and I’ll have coffees delivered for you and your roommates. I love you.

My heart swells with joy. I recall Jasmine’s words from a minute ago. Hayes does take care of me. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel bad about letting someone do that. He took all my preconceived notions about relationships and even myself and threw them into the wind.

I bite my lip and text him back.

Aurora: Good morning, Prince Charming. I love you, too. Are you busy today? I have something I want to give you.

Prince Charming: I’ll never be too busy to make time for you. Just tell me when and where.

The simplicity of his answer touches my heart in a new way. He doesn’t overcomplicate things. It’s as simple as loving me and wanting to be near me, in spite of all my flaws. The same way my friends and family love me—though they meddle more than him—but on a deeper level.

So even though I’ve never been much of a romantic, I find myself daydreaming and reminiscing the rest of the morning until it’s time to see him again. Because though Hayes doesn’t require me to change, I find it easier to be soft with him.

Epilogue

Hayes Rosewood

Thanksgiving Day

Warm spices and savory garlic bathe my senses as I enter Aurora’s parents’ house behind her. I draw in a deep breath and smile. I’ve never had a home-cooked meal on Thanksgiving before, so I’m looking forward to this. And I know this dinner will ease a lot of Aurora’s worries, as much as she thinks otherwise.

We’ve been preparing for finals, which has had its fair share of stress. With Aurora’s help I got my grade in Digital Logic up to a B, but I still want to finish strong in that class and others. I’m sticking to my plan of getting my degree before taking on the company, but now I want to use this time to actually prepare myself instead of chasing distractions. On top of finals and her rehearsals, after a few weeks of talking about it, Aurora decided to tell her parents—mainly her mom—that she doesn’t like the comments they make about her social life. She decided it would be best if I was there for support, and this was the next time we were scheduled to see them.

Aurora pauses in the entryway, glancing up at me with trepidation in her blue eyes.

“It’s going to be okay,” I reassure her.

“What if she freaks out and starts crying?” Aurora asks, not for the first time. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this today. I could ruin Thanksgiving for everyone.”

“You’re waiting until after we eat, so you can’t ruin dinner. But if you’re not ready and want to wait until another day, that’s okay too.”