Page 15

CHAPTER 15

VANESSA

I fidget with my coffee cup, unable to contain my smile as Becca leans across our usual corner table at The Love Roast. "Spill. Everything."

"These past two nights with Jack..." Heat rises to my cheeks. "God, Bec. I've never felt anything like it."

"Details. Now." She wiggles her eyebrows.

"The first time was on this rooftop. We were stargazing, and he knew all these constellations I'd never heard of. The way he explained them..." I bite my lip. "Then he kissed me, and it was like... electricity. Pure electricity."

"And then?"

My face burns hotter. "Let's just say the stars weren't the only spectacular view that night."

"Vanessa Wright! You little minx." Becca claps her hands. "And the second time?"

"He took me to this private cooking class. The whole time, his hands kept brushing against mine while we chopped vegetables. The way he looked at me..." I trail off, remembering how safe I felt in his arms. "We barely made it through my front door."

"Girl." Becca grabs my hands. "This is different. I can see it in your face."

"It is. He makes me feel... wanted. Really wanted. Not just physically, but like he sees me. All of me."

"So..." Becca draws out the word. "Are you two official?"

The smile slips from my face. "I don't know. We haven't talked about it."

"Why not? He's clearly into you."

"Because… What if I'm reading too much into this? What if it's just casual for him?"

"Have you seen how he looks at you? That man is not casual about anything, especially not you."

"Maybe. I just... I can't handle another disappointment, Bec."

"When was the last time you let yourself actually feel something?" Becca's words cut through my defenses. "And don't give me that look – I've known you long enough to see the difference."

I trace the rim of my coffee cup, avoiding her gaze. "It's not that simple."

"Isn't it? Every guy before Jack, you had one foot out the door from day one. Always ready with reasons why it wouldn't work."

"Because they proved me right every time!" The words burst out louder than intended. I lower my voice. "Remember Derek? Or Michael? Or-"

"This isn't about them." Becca reaches across the table, stilling my fidgeting hands. "This is about Jack. When he walks in here, your whole energy changes. You light up."

My chest tightens because she's right. "It's only been a few weeks, but I do trust him," I whisper, surprising myself with the admission. "That's what scares me. I've never... with anyone else, I always kept part of myself hidden. Protected. But with Jack..."

"With Jack?"

"He asks these weird questions sometimes, like he's trying to understand everything about me. And instead of deflecting like I usually do, I find myself answering. Really answering." I wrap my hands around my cup, seeking its warmth. "Last night, we were cooking together, and he asked me about my dreams – not the usual small talk kind of way. He wanted to know what scared me about them, what made me hesitate to chase them."

"And?"

"And I told him. Everything. About dropping out of art school, about my parents, about feeling stuck." My voice catches. "No one's ever made me feel so... safe being vulnerable."

My fingers start to tremble as a wave of emotions wash over me me.

"Oh god." I press my hands to my face, the realization hitting me. "Oh god, oh god."

"What?" Becca leans forward, concerned.

"I think..." The words stick on my tongue. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape. "I think I'm falling in love with him."

"Finally! She admits it!"

"No, you don't understand." I grab her arm. "I can't be in love with him. I swore I wouldn't do this again. I had a plan - work, school, getting my life together."

"Plans change."

"But this wasn't supposed to happen." My voice cracks. "He walks into a room and my whole body just... responds. When he's not around, I catch myself checking my phone for messages. I keep finding things I want to tell him about - stupid little things that remind me of our conversations."

"That's what falling in love feels like."

"Last night, he was telling me about this obscure anthropological theory, and his eyes got all bright and passionate. I wasn't even listening to the words anymore - I was just watching his face, thinking how beautiful he looked when he cares about something." I press my forehead against the cool table. "I'm so screwed."

"Why is this a bad thing?"

I lift my head. "Because what if he doesn't feel the same way? What if this is just an interesting experiment for him? He's always asking these questions about relationships and love like he's studying them."

"Or maybe he's trying to understand you better because he cares."

The thought makes my chest ache with hope. "When he touches me, Bec... it's like he's memorizing every inch. Like I'm precious. No one's ever made me feel like that before."

"Then maybe instead of fighting it, you should let yourself fall."

I wrap my arms around myself, remembering how it feels when Jack holds me. "I already am. God help me, I already am."

"You need to tell him," Becca says, squeezing my hand.

I pull back, shaking my head. "I can't just blurt out 'I love you' over coffee."

"Why not? Sometimes the simplest way is best."

"Because..." I twist my napkin into knots. "What if he gets that deer-in-headlights look? You know the one - when guys realize things are getting too serious and suddenly remember they have to wash their hair or feed their goldfish?"

"Jack doesn't strike me as the type to run."

"No?" I raise an eyebrow. "Then why hasn't he defined what we are? We've been seeing each other for weeks."

"Maybe he's waiting for you to bring it up."

The thought stops me cold. Have I been giving him mixed signals? Every time he gets close to something real, do I deflect with a joke or change the subject?

"Look at me." Becca's voice turns serious. "You deserve to be happy. And if Jack makes you happy, he deserves to know how you feel."

I trace the heart pattern on my coffee cup, remembering how Jack's fingers felt intertwined with mine. "What if it changes everything?"

"It will. That's the point."

The truth of her words settles in my chest. I'm tired of playing it safe, of keeping one foot out the door. Jack deserves more than that. I deserve more.

"Okay." I straighten my shoulders, determination replacing fear. "Next time I see him, I'll tell him."

"Promise?"

"Promise." The word comes out stronger than I expected. "No more hiding."

Becca beams at me. "That's my girl."