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“Touchdown!” I scream at the top of my lungs, dancing in circles over the fallen football. “I made a touchdown!”
Theo howls his approval, and it’s such a distinctly primal sound that I can’t help but laugh. I jump into his outstretched arms and he spins me around, his arms crushing me to his chest as he lifts me off the ground. We’re both laughing and screaming. He kisses me as he settles my feet back on the ground, and I wrap my arms around his neck.
“That was amazing!” he says. “Not technically a touchdown, but amazing nonetheless.”
“Yeah?” My cheeks warm. “Am I worthy of a real football player yet?”
“You’re a worthy opponent, indeed, Marce.” He kisses the top of my head, and I almost melt on the spot. “Come on, let’s do it again!”
I’m not sure how many hours pass. We play for so long, we only come to a stop when the sun begins to set, turning the sky a vibrant orange. The afternoon ends when he wraps his giant arms around me in lieu of a tackle, and I force us both to fall onto the grass. Our limbs tangle together in a way that’s only unfamiliar thanks to the dirt and turf grass covering our bodies. When Theo plants his mouth on mine, I almost wish we didn’t have to leave the field.
Maybe football isn’t so bad after all.
Twenty-Five
Once I’ve showered off the dirt and grass, I inspect my closet for what to wear next. Theo said the second part of the date requires a more formal attire, so I decide on a pale pink dress with a scalloped collar and fake buttons sewn down the middle. I slip my feet into matching flats just as the doorbell rings. I frown down at my phone. He’s early.
My breath catches in my throat when I open the front door. Theo’s dressed in black slacks and a pale blue button-up that is loose at the collar, with sleeves rolled to his elbows. The last time I saw him so dressed up was at the engagement party, but that was with an added suit jacket and tie. It’s like being thrown back in time to when this whole thing started.
There’s one added difference: the bouquet of flowers in his hand and the nervous way his eyes dart around the living room. It must only be a coincidence that the roses are as pink as my dress.
“Are those for me?” My heart beats erratically, and I hardly trust myself to say anything more.
“Of course.” He offers me the roses. We both avoid eye contact as he places them in my arms with shaking hands. “I hope you have some kind of vase for them or something, I didn’t even think about that.”
“I do,” I assure him. “I’ll go put them in some water.”
My own hands shake as I rifle through the cabinets before finding a glass vase big enough to fit the bouquet. I’m not sure what he has planned for tonight to seem so nervous, but it’s making my own anxiety ratchet up to the highest setting. I shouldn’t want this, and definitely not with Theo. Is it my own fault for letting this thing with him go on as long as it has? Are we just leading each other on by entertaining this date night?
He can’t seem to keep his body still when I return to the living room. His long legs pace the length of the couch, head bent as he mumbles something under his breath, but it snaps up when I approach him. I’m taken back to the night of the engagement party all over again, stumbling upon his drunken form, talking himself into confessing to Alice.
Only, he’s not drunk and I’m not Alice, so I’m not sure what to make of his nerves.
“You ready?” His voice pitches an octave higher than normal.
I nod and smile, but it has trouble sticking to my face. He seems appeased for the moment, stepping forward to link my arm in his so we can walk through the door. I hope he can’t feel how fast my heart is beating.
The car ride is tense with our silence, both of us locked inside our own heads until he pulls into the library parking lot. My brows furrow as I chance a glance at his face. The library closed an hour ago. For the first time tonight, his eyes light up with mischief, lips curling up in that familiar wicked grin. I look back up at the library, but the lights are off inside. Theo comes around the car to open my door, ever the gentleman.
“Are we breaking and entering?” I ask, as we head up the sidewalk.
“It’s not breaking and entering if you have a key.” He looks down at me expectantly as we reach the glass double doors. When I just stare up at him, dumbfounded, he gestures for me to open the door. Finally, I reach into my purse for the key, my fingers slipping until I find the right one and stick it inside the lock.
Inside, the darkness is almost stifling except for a distant, golden glow coming from deeper inside the shelves. I glance up at Theo again questioningly, but all I can make out is the rise and fall of his shoulders as he shrugs. As if he wasn’t the one who planned this entire night to begin with. The start of a self-satisfied smile edges the corners of his mouth as we make our way through the general fiction shelves.
I still can’t determine where the light is coming from, let alone the source of the light itself. I swear to god if he actually lit candles in a building made up entirely of kindling, he’ll make it easier for me to dump him. Especially if I lose the most important job I’ve ever had because of an elaborate date gone horribly, horribly wrong. If there are as many candles as it looks like there are, we’ll be ending the night at the fire department. Or worse, in an ambulance dying of third-degree burns and smoke inhalation. There’s nothing romantic about that.
We pass the first candle when we reach the back wall’s low shelves, where an entire row is lit up in the shape of an arrow pointing right. I rush forward to blow them out, but the lights won’t budge. On closer inspection, where there should be a wick is the artificial shape of a flame. My hand touches the plastic with a sigh of relief that deflates my whole body.
They’re not real candles. They’re battery operated.
“Did you actually think I’d make a fire hazard at your place of work?” Theo shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Oh, Marce. Ye of little faith.”
“You can’t blame me.” I hit his arm. “You’ve been full of surprises today.”
“Please. You haven’t seen the biggest one yet.”
The arrows lead to the YA section, where hundreds of tea lights sit on the shelves to light up the space. I let out a gasp when my eyes settle on our dinner setup. In the center of the surrounding shelves, where the YA book club met, the retractable tables and plastic seats have been replaced with a smaller, square wooden table covered by a white tablecloth and two matching wooden chairs. A dinner is set up on place mats, in front of two long-stemmed candles that also turn out to be battery operated.
