Page 61 of You Again

Rosalie scoffs, but I think she’s fighting a smile. “We could end this date right here and now.”

I hold up two fingers. “I will behave. Scouts honor.”

“Were you a scout?” she asks, eyes narrowed.

“I was not.”

And then that pretty girl laughs. Oh, how I love Rosalie’s laugh. Rosalie has been uncertain about dating me, or anyone, if Fran’s right. But while she has wavered, I’ve been certain. Certain since the day I met this woman that one day she’d be my wife.

The indie folk rock band takes the stage and Rosalie’s face lights up. She stands as the crowd cheers the band onward and they start into their new song. I will owe Peach Fuzz Bunny until the day I die. Fran tipped me off that Rosalie loves this band, and just like that, try number eight was a success.

We’re halfway through the Peach Fuzz Bunny set list, and I’m standing, swaying next to Rosalie, when my hand maybe not-so-accidentally bumps hers.

She glances over, a Peach Fuzz Bunny grin lighting up her face. She looks at me and sings the chorus of a song I’ve never heard before turning her attention back to the stage.

So… I let my hand bump hers again. This time, I snag her little finger with mine.

Rosalie’s gaze draws from our hands to my face. She’s got one accusing brow raised. “Zevulun Hayes,” she says, moving her lips dramatically so I can make out her words over the music.

I look at her… innocently, then lean slightly to hear her better.

“Are you trying to hold my hand?” she asks, her lips near my right earlobe. “On date one?”

“No,” I lie. It doesn’t count—not when we both know it’s a lie. Not when it’s clear as the nose on my face that I am absolutely attempting to hold her hand.

“I don’t hold hands,” she says, her sweet breath tickling my cheek with her closeness.

“Noted,” I say back, turning my head just a little, her jaw and ear in my orbit. Still, my pinky stays fastened around hers.

And Rosalie doesn’t pull her hand away.

We walk side by side out to my car. I’m feeding this woman—I’m not letting this date end until she tells me I have to. “Only eight asks and hand holding. Wow. I gotta tell you, Rosalie, I had no idea you liked me so much.”

She shoves her hands into her pockets, not allowing my pinky to touch hers, and rams her shoulder into my arm. “You really don’t want a second date, do you?”

I laugh. “You know that I do. However, seeing that our first date is still in progress, I can wait for you to ask me out later.”

“Zev,” she groans through a laugh.

We climb into my car, Rosalie high on Peach Fuzz Bunny’s final song, me on Rose allowing me to hold even one of her fingers.

“You’re taking me to get dessert?” she asks.

“Anything you want. Dinner. Breakfast. Dessert. It’s yours.”

“That is a dangerous offer, Zevulun Hayes.”

I pull out of the parking lot, glancing once over at the girl in my passenger seat. “That’s just a fact, Rosalie. If you want it, I’m getting it.”

Before I can look away, her cheeks are pink, and I swear I see her lips twitch in the start of a smile.

“Okay then,” she says, her eyes on me. “I want… a second date.”

I refrain from grinning ear to ear. “Is tomorrow too soon?”

She smothers a giggle. “You’re traveling tomorrow.”

“You could come.” That sounds perfect to me.