Page 126 of Camp Bliss
I blink. “What do you mean? Not for you but for me?”
Zach tilts his head to the side, frowning down at me with as much seriousness as he’s ever held in a frown. “If you decided you didn’t want to be with me. How we could move forward.”
I’m shaking my head before he even finishes. Because that’s not happening.
“No, no. That’s not what I meant.”
His brows shoot up, genuine surprise in his eyes. “You mean—You mean if I wanted to end it?” He says it like the concept is as unlikely as pigeons living on the moon.
I nod because that’s the only response that feels safe.
Zach’s eyes bug, and he grips me tighter. “Hell, no. Not happening.”
My smile is an ambush. How long did it take for me to notice his sweetness? Did he just hide it? Was I just blind?
I reach up and caress his cheek, the right side so I don’t mess up the dirt streak he’s rockin’. “I like hearing that,” I admit. “But you don’tknowthat.”
“Idoknow that.” Okay, now his serious scowl might be an ounce more irritated.
I side-eye him. “You don’t. You couldn’t stand me when we first met.”
And, wow. His scowl goes from irritated to straight up pissed in .2 seconds. “That’s. Not. True.”
My words come out fast. “In our first Zoom, you said I looked like a Bitmoji having a tantrum. I heard you.”
Zach jolts, his eyes popping wide. “What?”
Heat rushes my face. I know I’m not making this up. I totally heard him say that. And he totally did not like me like…forever.
All the way up until Josh left.
“You might not remember,” I concede. “But I heard you.”
He blinks. Then frowns—the thoughtful kind, not the pissed kind.
“You’re right.”
“See. Your feelings might change. They’ve changed before—”
He shakes his head. “No, they haven’t.”
I freeze. “W-What?”
His arms that are wrapped around me loosen, and then his hands palm my shoulders, holding me in place.
“I remember that Zoom call. Every minute of it.” The left corner of his mouth creeps up into a smile that looks somehow both self-conscious and self-satisfied. “I liked you the second I saw you.”
I frown. “I remember that Zoom call too. You definitely didn’t like me. You—”
“You were gorgeous, and smart, and feisty—” He talks over me, his smile growing. “And I didn’t want to stop looking at you. And I didn’t want you to stop talking to me. So I argued with you and kept arguing with you.”
“But you—”
His smile gets mixed up with a pinch of regret. “But that wasn’t okay. You were my best friend’s girlfriend. And I was about to be living with you. Working with you every day. Icouldn’tlike you. Not like that.” He huffs a laugh. “In fact, I told myself I didn’t like you at all. And I lived up to that by being grumpy, and short with you, and critical. And I made sure you didn’t likeme.”
I just stare up at him. If I had any words a minute ago, they’ve straight up skedaddled.
“But, Greta, I tried my best not to like you,” that self-conscious, self-satisfied smile is back with reinforcements, “and I fuckin’ failed.”
