Page 84 of Finding Storm

I’m still staring at said door when Gran speaks from behind me, “That boy likes you.”

“Huh?” I turn to look at her.

“Nick likes you,” she reiterates.

“No, he doesn’t,” is my response with a laugh. It sounds awkward.

And now, my heart is going ba-boom! in my chest with excitement at the mere prospect of Nick liking me.

“You mark my words, he does. I saw the way he kept looking at you at dinner. And just then. That boy has the hots for you.”

“Gran, please never say ‘hots’ again.”

She laughs. Drying her hands on the tea towel, she walks over to me. “He likes you. And why wouldn’t he?” She cups my chin in her hand, staring me in the eyes. “You’re as pretty as the sun at rise. You’re smart, funny. And you have the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. I know that little asshole hurt you bad—”

“Gran …” I cut her off.

“Just let me say my piece, and I’m done. I know he hurt you. But don’t let his past actions get in the way of your future happiness.”

“Gran, I barely know Nick. And he’s just passing through town. He’s not here to stay.”

“He doesn’t need to stay, honey. He just has to put a smile back on your face. And from what I’ve seen, he’s done that already. I’m not saying, marry the boy. I’m saying, he’s hot as blazes. He thinks you’re hot, and you should … make use of that fact. There’s a bottle of whipped cream in the refrigerator, its expiration coming up. Make use of it before it goes bad.”

“Gran!” I exclaim, nearly choking.

Gran isn’t ever shy about saying stuff, but there are some words you never want to hear come out of your gran’s mouth, and those are words involving hot boys and whipped cream.

“What? Your grandpa used to love it when—”

“And let’s just stop right there,” I cut her off with a groan.

She chuckles and gives my chin a gentle squeeze. “Just think about it.”

“I’ll never think of whipped cream the same ever again. You’ve ruined it for me.”

She laughs again. “I meant, Nick. Enjoy yourself while you’re young. You don’t want to look back when you’re old and have any regrets about missed opportunities.” She kisses my cheek. “I’ll go lock up. You get yourself to bed … or Nick’s.” She winks before breezing out of the kitchen.

And I’m left standing here, my heart beating quickly, wondering if she could actually be right—that Nick does like me. And whether I should actually be brave and go up to his room.

Sans whipped cream, of course, because … gross.

I didn’t go to Nick’s room last night.

Because I’m not that brave.

I mean, what if I had gone up there, knocked on his door, and I had read things totally wrong and he didn’t like me in that way?

I’d have looked like a total idiot.

Looking like an idiot and being rejected are two of my least favorite things in life.

So, I went to my own bed and stared at the ceiling for most of the night.

Fun times.

“Stevie?” I hear Nick’s voice calling from the dining room. “You around?”

Christ, just the sound of his voice gives me goose bumps. I’m so screwed.