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“You’re not asking me. I’m telling you. I would do it. For you.”

Her eyes shine with uncertainty and a twinkle of cautious hope, and I know it’s the right call. I squeeze her hand again.

“Gabe.” She whispers my name, and her tone is a mixture of disbelief and determination. Honestly, same. “You’re supposed to be on a plane tomorrow.”

I nod, forcing all thoughts of being onstage and the jolt of serotonin I got from performing out of my head. I don’t let myself think about how excited I am to see Nashburg and experience the lifestyle I’ve only ever read about online and seen on TV.

My mom and I got by on very little growing up. We didn’t travel, so even the prospect of flying first class is something I’m itching to experience. And then there are the producers at Hidden Gems who I’ll be letting down. A twinge of something like regret pricks at my chest, but I brush it off. They’ll figure out a way to fill my spot.

“I do really want to be an accountant,” I say with a grin. “I love numbers, and I love helping people. I can still sing and play my guitar . . . just not on the big stage. I’m cool with that.”

Beth’s forehead puckers as she studies me.

I grin and reach up, dragging a finger along the lines to smooth them over. “Don’t scowl at me. You’re too pretty for that.”

She huffs out a laugh and shakes her head, a smile tickling the corners of her lips.

“Actually, you’re pretty when you scowl too, but I’d rather you smile at me.”

She twists her lips, still fighting her smile. “Gabe, this isn’t the time to be charming. You need to focus. You need to think about this decision. I won’t let you give up on a dream for me.”

“What if you’re the dream?”

Whoop, there it is.

Beth bursts out laughing, and the sound of it is as sweet as cutout sugar cookies with homemade frosting and red and green sprinkles.

“What’s so funny about that? I’m serious!” I’m actually glad I made her laugh with my admission. Better that than freak her out with my Very Big Feelings where she’s concerned. I reach forward and cup her cheeks, cradling her face between my palms. My fingers spear through her hair, and her breath catches. “I want to be with you, Beth. As more than friends. Do you believe me?”

Beth eyes flick back and forth as she holds my gaze.

“I believe you.” She reaches up and holds my hands in place. “But I want you to take the night. Think about it. Make sure you’re sure.”

“Fine. I can do that.”

“Okay. Good.”

I know immediately that I’m doing this. I’ll call my contact with Hidden Gems the second I get home and tell him I’m bowing out. It’s the right call for me. For my future. For the potential of a life with Beth.

“Can I please kiss you?” I ask. Because I’m dying over here.

She nods once.

I lean forward, and her eyes drop shut. I brush my lips against hers, and my heart swells in my chest. The kiss is soft and tentative. It takes us out of the friend zone and into an unknown future. But it’s a future I want. She drops her hands and runs her fingers against my jaw, gently brushing them back and forth. My heart pounds. This is more of a rush than my performance. This is what I want. Her. Us. More.

Our food arrives and we dig in, talking about graduation and the finals she still needs to cram for. She’s been so busy volunteering at two different local high schools, coordinating the campus food drive, and directing our church’s children’s pageant, she let some of her studying fall by the wayside. Since I was planning to be en route to Nashburg tomorrow, I’d made special arrangements with my professors and took all my exams early. I guess now I’ll just have some free time and then head back to Dasher Valley after the graduation ceremony.

We eat and pay, and I grab for Beth’s hand as we’re leaving. Snow flurries are falling from the sky as we stroll through campus and make our way back to the house Beth rents with a couple friends. It’s like a scene out of a storybook, everything dusted in white. Christmas lights glisten, and there’s a feeling of promise in the bitter cold air.

We stop on her doorstep, and she wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head against my chest.

“I could get real used to this, Bethy,” I say into her hair, inhaling the scent of ginger from the shampoo she’s been using since high school.

“Me too.” She leans back, studying my face, her expression serious. “But promise you’ll take the night? Be sure before you make a final decision.”

“I will.”

If it makes her feel better, I’ll call my producer in the morning.