Page 96 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
“Willow’s covered,” Joss says. She shrugs like they didn’t have this whole thing planned well before they had any idea how today would go. Or maybe they had more faith in this happening than even I did.
“You guys,” Breck says, the sweetest softness in his voice.
“Oh and,” Joss continues over him, “tomorrow, we’re all climbing the Harbour Bridge.”
Willow bursts in. “Wait, we get to climb the bridge tomorrow, for real?”
“For real,” Wes says, then looks at me. “Go. Shower.”
Walking out forty-five minutes later, I feel like a whole new woman. The bodice of the jumpsuit I chose for tonight is fitted, from the skinny straps down to my waist, before it flares out into wide-leg pants. I love the way the stone-blue color pulls out the darker facets of my eyes and doesn’t wash me out since I’m extra pale from the winter back home.
The room stills when I enter, Breck catching sight of me from where he leans against the kitchen counter. His laughter stills, the smile freezing on his face and the blue of his eyes burning brighter.
“Are you two going to moon over each other like this all the time? Ugh, I don’t know if I can take it,” Wes jokes and turns to Willow. “Gross, right?” He sticks his tongue out, feigning a gag and making Willow giggle.
“So gross.” She nods but then she says, “But that’s what you do when you love someone.” She shrugs, and with that bomb dropped into the middle of the room, trots over to me and gives me a hug. “You look beautiful.”
“Th-thank you.” All the adults just look at each other, the L-word hanging between us in that way it only can when it hasn’t been said between the people who are expected to say it.
“Well, okay then, y’all should go.” Wes clears his throat. “Do you have, um, stuff for later?” He looks at my empty hands.
“For later?” I ask, confused.
Joss walks over and quietly whispers in my ear, “Willow is having a sleepover here, so if you wanted to have a sleepover too…”
“Oh.” I look at the guys. Breck’s face is a mixture of embarrassment and desire, and Wes looks like he could throw up. I laugh awkwardly and run back into the bedroom to throw an overnight bag together as quickly as possible, feeling my blush all the way down to my toes.
Breck’s already at the door and waiting when I emerge.
“Would you rather walk or drive to dinner?” he says, bringing my hand up to his lips. The swoop in my stomach has nothing to do with the quick descent of the elevator. “You must be so tired.”
“I’m okay. Walking sounds good.”
His eyes trail down my entire body until they land on my wedge sandals.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“Yes. They’re comfortable. Now come on, show me your city.”
He smiles wide, his dimples stretching across his handsome face. We stop to put my bag in his truck, which he tells me is called a “ute” in Australia. He then informs me I’ll have to learn proper Australian-English if I’m going to be hanging out here.
We reach a seawall within minutes, and I pull my hand free and splay both on the concrete, giving myself a second to take in the striking view of the city around me. I’ve seen it before, but it feels brand new after all these years.
Beyond the landmarks Sydney’s known for, it’s the sunset—the sky a canvas of purples and blues that bleed down to reds and oranges toward the horizon that falls behind the buildings of the city—that takes my breath away.
“Wow. So beautiful,” I say, turning to find Breck lowering his phone.
“I couldn’t agree more.” He closes the distance between us and threads a hand into my damp hair before kissing me gently.
How did I get through the last seven weeks without him? I lean in just when he pulls back, pressing his forehead to mine, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Rory, I—what’re you doing here?”
I duck my head, nerves taking over. Am I misreading all of this?Hekissed me, right? Now and earlier.
He must read the question in my facial expression because he quickly continues. “I’m thrilled you are, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself—or more ahead of myself than I already have. Ijust… I need to know you’re here for the reasons I hope you are,” he says, and I relax, relief washing over me.
I cut off his protests, his attempts to backpedal, his worries that I’m not here for him, with a soft kiss. “Hey, don’t go overthinking.We’rea no-overthinking zone, remember.” I kiss him again. “How about you buy me dinner and I tell you everything, yeah?”
