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“I’m pretty sure you came to see the dog and not us, didn’t you?”
And okay, part of me wouldn’t object to being smashed in a back seat with someone who looked and smelled as good as Conrad did, but that part of me was not in charge of making important life decisions, and I’d spent over two years trying very hard not to notice Conrad in that way. I wasn’t about to start crushing on someone who hated me now.
had absolutely no business feeling disappointed that he’d so easily chosen Jasper over me. Did I want to sleep next to Conrad? Have him lecture me about no cuddling? Accidentally touch arms in the night? Was I seriously sad over missing out on that? As illogical as it was, the pressure in my chest said yes. Yes, I felt like I was missing out on something, and yes, I wished he’d chosen me, like this was dodgeball and I was the kid without a team all over again.
Now, I didn’t really think Conrad would go off with this guy for a backroom tryst, leaving me holding the equipment, but if Blake touched Conrad’s arm one more time, I was going to throw something. Possibly Blake.
No, not adorable. Bad Conrad. Bad.
It had been so easy to feel like damaged goods the past year, but when I’d told Alden that we weren’t imperfect, I’d actually believed it myself.
Bad, Conrad. No licking. I made myself focus on the road, not my increasingly inconvenient reaction to Alden.
And then, still holding my hand, he leaned in. This time I knew it was coming, and I didn’t flinch away. No phones rang. No loud people walked by. No one was having a meltdown, and the sun was shining, so there were no late-night excuses. Conrad was going to kiss me, and I was going to let him.
For the first time, maybe ever, I had something I liked more than Odyssey. Him. Us. The private moments we’d shared. And I’d take losing if it meant getting closer later.
“Oh, hey, a spare bed.” Conrad tumbled me onto the closest one, landing squarely on top of me. “When we ruin this set of sheets, we can move to that other one.”
Did you score anything worth keeping?” His face went soft, more tender than I’d ever seen it. “Maybe,” he whispered, and I knew from the gravity in his tone that he didn’t mean the cards, so I kissed him again, long and slow and sweet. I tried to use my mouth to tell him that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Maybe we’d both already won.
She was proud of me, but where had she been when I’d needed her most? Their love had been conditional, and that was no love at all.
My old mantra of one more turn had become an infinite number of turns, both mundane and earth-shattering, all adding up to a life I wouldn’t trade for anything.
