Page 11 of Desserts for Stressed People

Nevaeh:

I can’t.

That’s all I can say. I don’t have the right to be disappointed, but I am. This daydream lasted ten minutes, and it was so exhilarating that I’m in withdrawal already. I want the rush back—the butterflies flapping their wings in my stomach. I want him to think I’m awesome. I want to watch my favorite movie with him.

Shane:

Marty, the future isn’t written. It can be changed. Anyone can make their future whatever they want it to be.

I smile, but this time, it’s bittersweet. He keeps quoting my favorite movie, trying to convince me. But I can’t make my future, not with this. And although I promised I wouldn’t leave him on read, I frown and stare down at the phone without answering.

The cowboy movie is over, and a commercial pops on the TV screen as I get another message that has my heart beating faster.

Shane:

Five minutes. Just enough time to make some popcorn and watch BTTF with me.

Oh. He wants us to watch the movie...like this? Through text?

Nevaeh:

Are you eating popcorn?

Instead of the dots, a little icon of a photo appears, and my phone jolts out of my hands, landing on the bed.

Oh my God, he sent me a picture. What if it’s a shot of his face? Or...what if it’s a shot of his... junk?

I grab the phone back and peer at the screen, but I don’t press on the icon. Instead, I type.

Nevaeh:

Will I regret opening this pic?

Shane:

Not unless you’re craving desserts.

He gets it. A gal has to ask these sorts of questions in this day and age, especially online.

Deciding on a leap of faith and hiding behind the fingers of one hand, I whisper, “Okay, here goes nothing,” then tap on the icon.

My heart goes numb for a second as I stare at the picture. It’s him, and he’s gorgeous. He isn’t wearing a suit. Oh, no. It’s better, much better. He has a black t-shirt on that readsHarvard University,and there’s a little faded basketball next to the text. The big window in the background makes me think he lives on the top floor because I can only see the dark sky and a few city lights. He’s holding a plate with a few brownies stacked on top of each other, and they look absolutely delicious. Did he bake those?

My eyes roam over the screen, taking in every detail. His face is—

The picture automatically closes after five seconds, so I open it again, and there he is.

A lazy smile curves his lips, and he looks tired. There are no dark circles around his brown eyes, and he’s clean-shaven. His wavy, short hair looks perfectly styled, though he’s at home watching a movie. Yet I can sense he’s tired. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at the camera.

He’s so freaking gorgeous it hurts, and I’m hardly done staring at him when the picture closes again. I tap to open it a third time. I’ll probably keep doing it as Marty and Doc travel to the past, and I won’t be done before they’re back to the future.

Shane:

Are you new to RadaR?

His message pops up as I stare at his picture for the fourth time.

Nevaeh: