Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)

by Sarah Adams

This one is for the softies. The tenderhearted sweeties. The introverts who are afraid to shine.

For introverts like me with social anxiety, the process of dating is equivalent to waxing your bikini line. Menstrual cramps on day two of your cycle. An emergency dental procedure you weren’t expecting—and guess what: they’re fresh out of novocaine.

I am the quiet one in my family. The one with her nose always in a book because she prefers worlds where she doesn’t have to interact with other humans. It’s so much easier to read about relationships than to foster them. Less dangerous too. I can’t offend anyone written into a book. I can’t say the wrong thing. And book characters don’t make judgments about me.

but never once did they give her the adjective that always sprung into my head when I saw her: gorgeous.

“Why do I feel like I just missed out on an important opportunity?” Because you did. Now, get lost, she’s mine.

“It seems to me, Annie, that you are just waiting for someone to give you permission to be yourself out loud.”

“No, Annie. Don’t get it twisted. I already think you’re sexy without a tattoo. So I know for sure you would be with one.”

“It needed a pop of pink.” “Pink is always the answer,”

I put my hand against Annie’s jaw and chuckle, wiping the tear from her cheek. “I would have committed murder for you just now.”

ANNIE: You’d do that for me? WILL: I’m quickly learning I’d do anything for you.

ANNIE: I want to, but I’m scared of flying. And going to new places. And meeting new people. WILL: My offer stands to hold your hand. ANNIE: I do like your hands. ANNIE: Oh wow. Pretend I didn’t say that. I’m super embarrassed now. GAH! Why is there no unsend button. WILL: I like your hands, too, Anna-banana.

But the thing about quiet people is, we’re only quiet because our brains are so busy overthinking everything.

“This . . . isn’t something I would normally do, but I just need to take care of you. Please let me.”

He didn’t leave. And I’m terrified when I realize I hope he never does.

Ten minutes later, even though it’s against his rules, Will is slipping into my bed and wrapping his arms around me. He kisses my neck and my jaw and my temple and then with his arms around me, I fall asleep with my finger tracing the raised lines of his butterfly tattoo—scared of the day when I call and he’s too far away.