Page 86 of Christmas Bubble

I don’t see much until he’s closer, and then he’s there. Only a few feet from me.

A few students stand between us. Cheerleaders doing their routine and blowing kisses at Bubble after they land on their feet. Footballs create an arch over his head.

It’s amazing, but it doesn’t compare to the shine in his eyes. The smile of pure joy seeing everything happen around him.

He covers his mouth with his hands when the cheerleaders do something particularly daring, and then he hugs them at the end. They push him toward me, which is when he finally sees me standing there.

He stops, and I can’t read his face. The music is still playing. The cue for the kids to disperse and leave us alone is when the music ends.

When that happens, there will be nothing between us. No more lies or misunderstandings.

I mouth at him, “I love you,” and his eyes fill with tears.

Please don’t run from me. I need you.

He keeps walking forward until he crashes into my arms. I wrap mine around him and hold tight. He’s not getting away from me anytime soon.

The music ends. He looks up at me.

“No. When you’re sixty-four, I will love you more than I love you today because even after all the heartache and the things we need to talk about, you’re still the only one I want.”

I cradle his face and kiss him.

In seconds, we’re surrounded by kids cheering, jumping, and clapping. It’s insanity.

When we part, Curtis’s cheeks are pink and his lips are red from me sucking on them.

“Go on, you’ve seen everything. You can go home,” I shout so everyone can hear.

“Go, Bubble!” the cheerleaders shout.

“It’s odd how they seem to have this weird vested interest in us being together,” I say, placing my hand on his chin and turning his face back to me.

“How did you put all of this together?” he asks.

“Justin helped. He’s a total enabler. My low-key surprise turned into a one hundred-people flash mob.”

I take his hand and pull him inside the building, locking the door behind us.

Curtis raises a brow but doesn’t ask questions.

His earthquake detection kits are still on the walls as we walk through the locker room, but it’s the office I want him to see.

“Are you ready for it?” I ask.

“Is there another band and more music?”

“No.”

“Magic Mike, but naked?” He wiggles his brows.

“What? No.”

He shrugs. “That’s okay. You can put on your own show for me.”

I open the door and let him through.

“You moved my desk?” He runs his hand over his desk, where it joins with mine. They’re side by side. His inspirational quotes have been moved so they cover the space behind both desks, and now I can see the paint on the wall.