Page 116 of The Underachiever's Guide to Love and Saving the World

“Oh, shit,” Bryce says under his breath.

“Get him,” the blacksmith growls, leading the charge.

Moments before everyone tackles Bryce, he passes the ball to me behind his back.

Without hesitation, I take it. It’s not a ring, but it is a promise—a commitment to a lifetime of chaos, laughter, and love.

Bryce flashes me a wicked grin. “You’re in it now.”

And then the horde descends, plowing Bryce over. Whoops and laughter echo off the houses around us. Mama makes a valiant effort to save the pastries, flapping her apron at anyone who dares to get too close. Pop lights up a pipe. I smile, tucking the wooden ball into my pocket.

When I was little, I was 90 percent sure I was special. Thankfully, the 10 percent chance that I’m not won out, because now, Bryce and I get to be delightfully unspectacular together forever.

THE END