Page 236 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions
“I quit.”
Silence. Those two words were met with complete and utter silence. For a beat, all I could hear was breathing on the other end of the line. And then Brendon spoke again, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I quit.”
“You can’t quit.”
“I just did.” And with that, I hung up and blocked his number. I’d call our boss in the morning. Maybe I’d even behonestabout why I was quitting—now that honesty was going to be my new thing. I could throw Brendon under the bus for the sexual harassment I’d had to endure since we’d broken up.
But…I didn’t focus on that.
Didn’t feel anything but calm, as the end of the train finally came into sight.
Calm, because I’d be seeing Alex again.
Calm, because he needed me.
Calm, because for the first time in my life I wasn’t letting anyone else decide my fate.
The train rattled by, and it wasn’t until the boom barriers had risen that I understood Alex and I were more like-minded than I’d thought. Because across the tracks, in front of a second train, was a car.
A very recognizable, verysexycar.
And Alex was inside it.
I could count on one hand how many times in my life I’d been shocked speechless. When Dad had told us the company had taken off, for one. When June had told me Roderick had finally proposed, and asked me to be their best-man-of-honor. When I’d found out the surgery had been successful—that Dad’s injuries weren’t too severe. That after real rest and recuperation, he was going to be fine.
But this…this was a new kind of speechless.
Like all the words in the world—even if they’d been smashed together—couldn’t possibly encompass the vastness of my joy.
Emotional whiplash, that was for certain. After I’d been broken down to dust only a few minutes prior. Now I was soaring. Soaring—already transported across the tracks, even though my body remained still, exactly where I’d left it.
Across the tracks, through the torrent of rain, George’s blond head wasvisible. He slid out of the unfamiliar vehicle, all long and leggy. Like a fucking angel. An angel of mercy, maybe?
Time stopped.
Even the rain seemed to slow as I jerked my seatbelt off and shoved my door open.
George raised a hand above his head to block the worst of it, and my watch glinted on his wrist—beside the friendship bracelet I’d tied there. It looked as good on him from a distance as it had up close.
The rain was an odd amalgamation of cold and warm. It soaked me in seconds, drenched my tux through each expensive layer down to the skin beneath. I hardly noticed as I ran in front of my car. The asphalt crunched under the soles of my shoes, still exuding the heat that’d plagued the city before the rain had ever hit.
I didn’t feel that either.
All my senses—my sight, my smell, even touch were focused on George.
It was as though he was right there beside me, even though he wasn’t yet. I sprinted through the rain, across the barren train tracks, and around the boom barriers to reach him.
George was drenched by the time I’d closed the last of the distance that’d separated us. His thick, wavy blond hair dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. The hand he had in the air did nothing to protect him. Especially not when he dropped it to his side, my watch sliding along that firm, delicate wrist bone.
His eyes met mine.
George had the kind of eyes poetry was written about. There was a sadness in them I recognized far too intimately. Neediness. But strength too. Determination. Determination that showed in his actions, as well as his gaze.
The fact he was here was a testament to that.
They were the same vivid, bottomless blue as they’d been the day I’d met him. But my feelings for them were far stronger now. Because I knew thoseeyes. Knew exactly how many wrinkles his nose scrunched into. Knew what he looked like when his guard was down. Knew the taste, the feel, the shape of him—so well, if I closed my eyes, I could picture every last, perfect inch.
