Page 53 of Made for You
Josh’s dimples both come out. “You make me want to be better. I should keep you around.”
I couldn’t be smiling bigger as we walk toward the picnic that’s waiting in the shade of the rock. But Josh is still pensive.
“I was an angry teen, you know? Definitely not a gentleman. With my parents’ divorce, and my dad being gone...”
We settle on the blanket and I open a bottle of white.
“Did you have good friends, at least, to support you?”
“I mean—not good friends. A lot of idiots like me. And some girlfriends. But I wouldn’t call them supportive. We were all just... I don’t know. Young and stupid.”
“Girlfriends,” I prompt as I pour two glasses. “Yeah, I haven’t heard much about your romantic history.”
“I’ve always dated casually. I guess my first girlfriend was in college. She was really sweet. And also kind of a wreck. We dated sophomore year for a couple months, and then she went crazy on me.” He shivers visibly.
“Crazy?”
“I broke up with her, you know, as one does when one is nineteen and has no idea what they’re doing or what they want. We hadn’t met each other’s families or said I love you or anything, like...it wasn’t that serious. But she lost it. Started to stalk me. I had to delete all my social media. It was scary as shit that this girl I thought I knew had this...dark side.”
“Did she stop after a while, or...” I prompt. I feel for teenage Josh. Everything I’ve heard about the teenage years both from him and the girls sounds painful and dramatic and, honestly, I’m a little grateful I didn’t have to live through that.
“Yeah. But it shook me. I didn’t seriously date again until my midtwenties. There was a girl I moved in with when I was twenty-six. Cassie. That lasted all of three weeks.”
“Whose dark side ruined that?” I tease.
“Oh, definitely hers. The situation was, I was allergic to her cat. I didn’t even know I was allergic! But she acted like I tricked her or something.”
“So she chose the cat,” I say lugubriously.
Josh laughs.
“Do you have a type?” I ask.
“Sure. I like sweet girls who know how to have fun, who don’t take everything so seriously. Like you. People who are kind. Considerate.”
“Not stalkers.”
He laughs. “Right.”
“Or cat owners.”
“I mean, ideally.”
“But no physical traits, huh? Skinny, curvy, blondes, brunettes—”
“Redheads,” he admits with a bashful grin. “I don’t know what it is, but I do love me a redhead.”
“Oh my God, really?” I say, feigning surprise and tossing my ponytail.
He hooks a finger under my chin and tugs my face close. Our lips meet. He tastes like salt from our sweaty climb, like wine, like laughter, and I want more than anything to be the woman with no dark side. To be full of light, and fun, and all the things that will make him happy forever.
We pull back. He’s flushed from our kiss, his face a little rough with the first shadow of a beard, his eyes alive with desire. The date is now fully ours, and the shadow of the rock reminds me of the rush of victory I felt when Josh and I were standing up there together, looking down on the rest of the world. Like we could conquer anything.
Something squeezes at my heart, and I can’t tell if it’s a moment of great strength or utter weakness, but the words slip out without me even meaning to say them.
“I love you.”
NOW