Best Laid Plans

“Just wear this. I bought it the other day.” Vanessa thrusts a Happy Days bag at me.

“You are an addict. You caved on the mint-green typewriter dress?”

She shakes her head. “Look inside. It’s for you.”

We’re at my house on Saturday night, getting ready. Because you can’t really prep to tell a man how you feel without your best girls by your side to help.

I peer into the bag, and my eyes pop. “No, you didn’t!”

“Yes, I did.”

“You are too much.” I brandish the simple periwinkle-blue skirt I checked out the other day, the one with cartoonish images of books on the fabric.

It’s short, and it’s me, and it’s not me trying to ape Vanessa’s style. I kick off my capri jeans and slide into the skirt, then find a simple white tank in my bureau and pull it on. I check out my reflection as Perri raises a glass of Chablis.

“Chablis. For when your best friend finally decides she’s going to go after her man.”

“I am most definitely going after my man,” I declare to myself and to my friends.

My man.

That’s what I want Gabe to be.

Excitement flares inside me, chased by nerves.

There are no guarantees. I don’t have a promise. We won’t have a written edict that we’ll remain friends. Nor do I know if his heart is banging as wildly for me as mine is for him.

But I’ll never know the answer until I try.

There’s no substitute for experience.

Some things in life you can’t charade your way through. You need to put your neck out.

If he says no, if I’m wrong about how he feels, then I’ll turn to my backup plan. To let him know he’s stuck with me as a friend. That even if he says see you later to a romance, I’m committed to staying friends with him, just like I was committed to thanking him that day a year ago when I brought him treats to the fire station. The man has seen me at my worst, and we became buddies. If we need to do it again, we’ll do it again.

But God, I hope he picks Plan A.

I turn around, showing them the outfit. “Does it meet your approval?”

Vanessa cheers. “It’s so cute.”

Perri points her glass at me. “You look fantastic.”

“I’m ready to go take a chance.” I toss a glance at Perri. “Speaking of chances, did you tell Vanessa about the guy you busted?”

Vanessa flicks out her tongue salaciously. “She did, and he sounded delish.”

Perri leans back on my bed and laughs. “That man had trouble written all over him.”

“And you like trouble,” Vanessa points out. “You were always the daring one.”

“Girls.” Perri rises from the bed, lifting her glass. “We are all the daring ones. Now it’s Arden’s turn to go be daring.”

I take a deep breath, drawing in their strength, feeling it mingle with my own confidence. I’ve always believed in myself. I’ve never been an insecure girl. But the last week with Gabe has taught me there’s no replacement for speaking my mind.

I head to Pin-Up Lanes to meet him for a friendly night of bowling, picking our regular lane, setting up our bowling names on the scoreboard, and then hoping. Hoping that when I go for a strike, I won’t strike out.

Once Gabe walks in, my breath catches.

It’s not because he’s so damn handsome.

It’s not because of that confident walk or that easy grin.

It’s because tonight marks the first time I’ve looked at him and let myself own my feelings. The first time I’ve watched him come toward me and known in my heart what I feel is love.





45





Arden





When he reaches me, I see he’s clutching his phone like it’s a lifeline.

“Hey, Arden.”

“Hey, Gabe,” I say, my brow knitting over the way he’s attached to the mobile device.

“You look”—he stares at me up and down, like he did at my house—“beautiful.”

I wasn’t seeking confirmation, but I love the compliment nonetheless. “You look more handsome than ever. And there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Okay?” His tone is tentative.

“Do you remember that time I asked for your help with my project, and I made a list?”

He laughs lightly, more sure this time. “You think I’ve forgotten?”

“No, but it was a week ago. Since then, I’ve made another list. Because I’m a plotter.”

He nods, moving closer. “You’re definitely a planner.”

“There are new things I want to try, so I wrote them out.”

“New things?” His voice is laced with curiosity.

“Yes.” Nerves flutter inside me as I take my list from my purse. “Can I read it to you?”

“I’d love to hear it.”

I flip open the paper, clear my throat, and dive into the great unknown, clutching fervently to the wish that he might feel the same. “Things I Want to Try.”

I meet his blue-eyed gaze, seeing possibility in them. Here goes the first one. “One: Being your friend and also your lover.”

His eyebrows lift in excitement.

“Two: Doing it outside.”

His eyes sparkle.

“Three: Spending the night with you.”

The irises dance now with a happiness that matches what’s in my heart. It spurs me on.

“Four: Going on dates with you, and only you.”

Yes, he mouths.

I love that he can’t wait till I’m done to give an answer, but I have more to say so I keep going, the look in his eyes helping me drive it home. “Five: Taking the chance to be with you . . . because I believe you and I are worth it. Do you know why?”

He smiles so wide it’s like it reaches another county. I’m about to give the answer to my own question when he cuts in, holding up his phone screen.

I peer at it, reading the three little words he made on the game board. In an instant, joy radiates through me, stretching into every corner of my body. He’s spelled I LOVE YOU. “You made a Words with Friends for me?”

He nods, proudly.

“How did you do this?”