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RENN:…

RENN:In case you were wondering, there hasn’t been anyone else. I’ve been dreaming about us being together for more than a year. With what I’ve been thinking of doing to you, the WHOLE night will barely be enough time.

RENN:I have spent months wanting to be near you, touch you and kiss you and put my hands on your skin. I want to run my tongue over that spot on your neck that drives you crazy. I want to touch the inside of your thighs and scrape my teeth on your hipbone.

RENN:I want to hold you all night. I want to put my arms around you in the dark and kiss the back of your head and run my fingers over the ink I put on your thigh. I want to wrap you up and hug your back to my chest and feel you pressed against me. And I want to wake up and have your beautiful eyes be the first thing I see.

RENN:Okay?

ME:Goddamn.

ME:Don’t most guys your age just send like eggplant and watersquirt emojis?

RENN:I have PLANS, and they don’t involve me tugging on my jeans at 11 p.m. and giving you a peck on the cheek and staying quiet for the neighbors while I tiptoe to my car.

RENN:I’m going to ask Pete to stay over.

ME:Please do.

CHAPTER

Eighteen

November 2015

On the afternoonof our date, I kept busy deep-cleaning my apartment and preparing a meal that would go off without a hitch. I’d seen enough kitchen disaster sequences in rom-coms to know I needed to avoid anything too elaborate. My nerves were jittery enough without having to worry Renn would arrive to find me covered in flour or holding a flaming potholder. I stuck with my tried-and-true homemade mac-n-cheese with broccoli and a green salad.

Dessert was Renn’s request—homemade cookies. Through our texts, he’d reminded me of a story I’d told him while he was doing my tattoo.

When I’d run track in high school, my teammate Lindsey had been pissed because I always beat her in the 1600. For the team’s bake sale junior year, everyone else’s parents had made elaborate brownies, cupcakes, and cookies to sell. My grandma had just thrown Oreos at me. I’d attempted to bake my own and produced some very misshapen and sad-looking oatmeal peanut butter cookies. They tasted okay, but that didn’t stop Lindsey from making fun of them and bestowing the nickname “Dumpy” on me for the rest of the year. Dumpy cookies, dumpy girl, I guess? It sucked at first, but as I kept running, the nickname took on an ironic life of its own. There was something hilarious about my teammates shouting, “Go Dumpy!” at the finish line. Later, when they apologized, I forgave them on the condition they keep using the nickname, at least on the field. And, when the bake sale happened again senior year, I produced five dozen yummy, perfectly-formed oatmeal peanut butter cookies that sold out quickly.

I liked that Renn had remembered. I thought it was his way of reminding me he knew I was more than the girl whose family had neglected her, or the woman Henri had manipulated. The Sadie he saw now had always been there, even if she’d been muted. When I opened the door for him at seven o’clock, the sweet scents of peanut butter and sugar—and victory in the 1600—lingered.

He was silhouetted against the silvery light of the early moon. Newer-build high rises dominated my three-story dingbat, making its outdoor walkways oddly dark even when the sun was out.

Some teenagers in the pool area pointed at us, likely because Renn was carrying a massive bouquet of roses, so ginormous it obscured his face, and a box of chocolates. He moved the flowers to the side to display a wide, shit-eating grin. His damp hair was up in its bun-pony, and I inhaled the tea tree scent of him as he walked into my apartment.

“Your smile looks suspicious.” I teased.

“Because the flowers and chocolates might be over the top, but I couldn’t resist.” Renn put them down on the counter, along with another bag he’d brought, turning to devour me with his gaze. “I saw them when I was getting groceries at Vons. It hit me right in the middle of aisle seven that I’ve never dated anyone I really cared about before. Never bought flowers. I thought, ‘Holy crap. I actually have a reason to buy these.’ So of course I had to get the biggest ones. I hope that doesn’t sound stupid.”

“Definitely not stupid.” I couldn’t think of a time Henri had bought me flowers that weren’t of the “I’m sorry” variety.

Renn reached out and folded me into his arms, looking down at my pink shorts and striped tee. “You look beyond amazing. I’m so happy we’re finally doing this.”

“Me too.”

“It smells fantastic. You said you were making mac-n-cheese, so I brought Guinness.” He pointed at the grocery bag on the counter.

“That’s great. I also have water and soda.”

I went into the kitchen to pull dinner out of the oven and throw the salad together, leaving Renn to poke through my record collection in the living room. Zach had taken most of the knick-knacks with him, so there were some bare spaces on the walls and shelves. But he’d left his couch, so the room was functional enough.

“I’d give you the grand tour,” I joked as I brought the casserole dish to the table, “But you’ve essentially seen everything. The place is small. There’s one bathroom down the hall, along with Zach’s bedroom and mine.”

“I thought Zach moved out.”

“He did. But he kept his room, so he’s got a place to chill if he needs it.”