Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Lavender

"You might be right," I admit as soon as Ruby picks up the phone.

"I'm the most amazing person in the world?" she responds, her voice dripping with humor. "I already knew that, but I'm glad we finally agree on something."

"Sure, but also about Sinclair," I reply, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

When she visited a few weeks back, Ruby saw the amount of texts Sinclair sent me since he left, and she insisted that he has a thing for me. Something beyond wanting to play naked with me by the lake. Well, those weren't her words. She said getting frisky . . . I'm not sure if that's even a word we use in this century. Having children and using old words because they sound more sensible is getting old, but I love her anyway.

At the time, I thought she was crazy, but what he just told me during the phone call. . . it left me completely speechless, my heart racing and my mind reeling with possibilities.

"That the guy might want a few dates before he proposes?" Ruby teases, and I can almost see the smirk on her face.

I told her she was wrong. The guy is a closed-up book and is aware that I want more than just a fling. Surprisingly, he's actually willing to step up, forge a deep connection and see where that takes us.

If any other guy had told me that, I wouldn't believe it. Somehow, I trust that he won't string me along until he's bored or meets someone new. This feels both comforting and terrifying all at once.

"Of course I'm right about him. I read his texts," she reminds me, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "Why are you agreeing now?"

"He told me that he wants us to be more than friends," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper as I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks .

"And how does it make you feel?" Ruby asks, her voice gentle and probing.

"You sound like a therapist," I laugh, trying to deflect the sudden intensity of the conversation.

"More like Mom, but you haven't responded," she prods, refusing to let me off the hook.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes as I try to sort through the jumble of emotions swirling inside me. "Excited but nervous," I admit, my voice trembling slightly as I bite my lip. "I mean, the guy is practically perfect. He's smart, funny, and incredibly thoughtful. Not to mention, he's got this rugged charm that just makes my knees go weak every time he flashes that crooked grin of his. We spend nights texting about everything and nothing, from our favorite movies to our deepest fears and dreams. I feel like I know him a lot better than any of the guys I've dated, like we have this connection that goes beyond just physical attraction."

I can't help but smile as I think back to our late-night conversations, the way he always seems to know just what to say to make me laugh or feel understood. It's like he sees me, really sees me, in a way that no one else ever has before.

"But what if it's all just a fantasy? Sure, I trust him, but we know where trust has taken me so far." My voice is small and vulnerable as I let out all the fears gnawing at me. "What if we're just caught up in the moment, in the excitement of something new and different? What if we're just setting ourselves up for disappointment?"

"Lav, you can't live your life in fear of what might happen," Ruby begins. "You have to take risks, to put yourself out there and see where it leads. And from what you've told me, from what I've seen in those texts, Sinclair seems like a risk worth taking."

"You're right," I say, my voice growing stronger, more determined. "I can't let fear hold me back, not when there's a chance for something real, something amazing."

"That's the little sister I know and love. By the way, our parents called. They want us to celebrate the holidays in Kentbury," she mentions casually, and I can almost see her twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

"Where? They sold the house," I remind her, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yeah, but they made reservations at the resort—four rooms for the family. Who knows, you might be able to bring your new boyfriend along," she teases, her voice singsong-y and playful.

I feel my cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. "We're not anything, Ruby. This is a work in progress," I clarify, trying to keep my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.

"If that's how you want to play it, sure, but . . . I know he'll be there as the significant other. Have a great night, Lavi," she says, a hint of mischief in her tone before ending the call.

I stare at the phone in my hand, she's crazy if she thinks that's going to happen. If we do get to that point, it'll take a long time, right?

Plus, we live in two different cities. How's that supposed to work?

It's the first day of camp. I wake up to Sin's text, like every morning, and start my routine. It's a shame that he won't be here today. Not that I asked him to come again—who wants to sound needy? Not me. I just replied with my usual morning text, ‘hope it's the best Monday of your week.'

Listen, I understand it's only Monday, but why not wish for it to be the best one? I feel like that manifests something better than a hectic day filled with angry people who need a nap and mishaps.

As I round the bend of the trail, my breath comes in short puffs, and my feet pound the dirt path. Halfway through my usual morning run, I focus on maintaining my pace when a flash of movement up ahead catches my eye.

My heart skips a beat as I recognize the tall, broad-shouldered figure jogging toward me. Sinclair. His dark hair is tousled from the wind, his t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame. Our eyes meet, and everything around me seems to fade away, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, caught in this precise moment.

A huge grin spreads across his handsome face, those twinkling blue eyes I'm starting to dig sparkling with warmth and something deeper, something that makes my pulse race and my skin tingle. I feel like I'm in a cheesy romcom. My world suddenly seems brighter just from seeing him. Before I know it, we close the distance between us. Sinclair's strong arms envelop me, lifting me off my feet in an exuberant bear hug. I throw my head back and laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep inside me.

"You're here," I breathe, my voice muffled against his shoulder, my smile so wide it feels like it might split my face in two.

He said he'd try to be here for the opening of the camp. Though, Paul said not to hold my breath. He's not good at keeping his promises—work always comes first.

"Fancy running into you, Lav," he murmurs, setting me back down but keeping me tucked against his chest. His thumb caresses my cheek and I lean into his touch, my skin tingling.

"But when you texted me?—"

"You never asked where I was," he says, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he leans in and places a soft, gentle kiss on the tip of my nose. "Next time, maybe ask. Communication is the key to a good relationship."

I feel my heart flutter at his words, at the implication of a future together, of something more than just friendship. "I've missed you," I breathe, losing myself in the warmth of his embrace, in the comfort of his presence. The familiar scent of his cologne washes over me, a heady mix of spice and wood that makes me feel like I'm finally home, like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

It's a little crazy, I know, considering it has only been a month since we met, a handful of days spent getting to know each other before he left for Boston. But during that time, we exchanged so many texts, so many late-night conversations and heartfelt confessions, that I feel like I've known him for a lifetime, like he's a part of me in a way that no one else ever has been before.

"I've missed you too," Sinclair murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion as he pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my knees go weak. "More than I ever thought possible."

As his words hang in the air, a palpable tension builds between us through so many texts and all those phone calls. For a moment, we're frozen, caught in the gravity of unspoken feelings and the long distance that separated us for weeks. Then, almost as if drawn by a force beyond our control, Sinclair closes the distance.

His hand cradles the back of my neck, rough calluses scraping against my skin as he pulls me closer. I tense, a flutter in my stomach, knowing what's about to happen but still not quite believing it. Our faces inch nearer until I can feel his warm breath, smell the pine and leather that is so uniquely him. His eyes lock with mine, an intensity and longing in his gaze that makes my knees weak.

"Are you sure about this?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky, vibrating with an undercurrent of longing.

My eyelids flutter closed, and I nod, past the point of words. There's no turning back now. His lips meet mine, and a jolt of electricity races through me, igniting a fire along my veins. My hands rise instinctively to grip his muscular arms as he deepens the kiss, claiming me with a need that steals my breath away. I can't think, can't focus on anything but the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on mine, his body pressed firmly against me.

In the fleeting moments we share, I marvel at how swiftly and recklessly we shorten the space between us—from strangers to almost friends, to something teetering on the precipice of much more.

So much more.

As we stand here sharing our first kiss, allowing the world around us to blur into a backdrop, I realize how much more there is to this budding connection. It's not just our tongues and mouths that are aligning but something deeper, more intrinsic.

Perhaps our souls are beginning to entangle, knitting together in a pattern too complex for us to understand just yet. It's thrilling and a bit terrifying to acknowledge how deeply someone can affect you, how quickly defenses crumble and how fiercely the heart can beat for someone who just moments ago was nothing more than a stranger.

Gradually, the kiss slows, the world coming back into focus. He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his breath mingling with mine, his forehead resting against my own. We stare at each other, both catching our breath, a silent acknowledgment passing between us that something profound has just begun.