Chapter 8

Grace and I were on the outs with each other for days after. That had never happened before. I finally apologized for my careless remark about Kyle being her type and assured her that I didn’t think of her as a slut. And she apologized to me for that mirror neuron nonsense. We hugged and made up.

“So, what do you think of Holden? Be honest.”

“He’s nice,” she answered.

“Nice?” She’d been obsessed with getting us together but now she thought he was only nice?

“He passed the Grace test.” She smiled. “I didn’t set this up without good reason.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” I valued her opinion, but my feelings for him wouldn’t have been different if she hadn’t liked him.

She looked at me carefully. “Are you into him?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I couldn’t keep myself from smiling.

“It’s been a few days. When are you seeing each other again?”

“Tonight.”

“His place?”

“Yes.”

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “I think that’s OK.”

“Oh. Thanks, Mom.”

She grinned, then pointed her finger at me. “Be home by midnight, young lady.”

I was at Holden’s door at six thirty. We’d been in constant contact since the evening at Emmets. Messenger chat, email, texting—we were doing the whole social media thing. Sometimes we messaged late into the night. We wrote about anything and everything that came to mind. About him, about me, classes, friends, hobbies, favorite foods, our parents. I had the feeling I’d known Holden for an eternity. He must have been feeling the same. I don’t know why, but typing on a screen, I was willing to reveal things about me that I wouldn’t have told him until much later face-to-face, if at all.

Suddenly, my hands started to sweat. Had I already told him too much about me? What if we ran out of things to talk about? My mouth went dry. I was standing on his doorstep. Deal with it. I rang the doorbell and straightened my blouse. Ten seconds later, the door opened.

“On the dot.” Holden beamed at me, taking my breath away for a moment. I’d looked at his Facebook profile photo for hours, studied his face, memorized his features—the curve of his lips, the gentle arch of his eyebrows, the edge of his chin, the deep blue of his eyes. But his face was so much more beautiful in the flesh that I felt as if I were really seeing him for the first time.

Holden looked me over. “You look stunning,” he said without intending to compliment me. He simply said it in a matter-of-fact way, like he might say, “Your hair is brown.”

“Thank you. You too.” With his broad shoulders, athletic physique, the blush of nervous red on his cheeks, and his leg cast, Holden embodied an irresistible mixture of strength and vulnerability. My heart pounded.

Breathe, Annie, breathe!

Again, that knock-me-over-with-a-feather smile. A smile of anticipation, enthusiasm, and tenderness.

“Come in.” He took a step aside, motioning along the hallway with an inviting gesture. I passed by him. The first thing I noticed were the two pairs of Calvin Klein boxer shorts dangling from an improvised clothes line across the hallway. I broke out laughing.

“I presume that is your housemate’s legendary underwear.”

Holden took a deep breath. “Sorry. I didn’t notice them—I guess I’ve gotten so used to them that I don’t see them anymore.”

Embarrassed, he scratched his chin.

“Is Kyle here?”

“No. I asked him to scram for a few hours. Do you want the tour?”

“I’d love it.”

The apartment was small. Other than Holden’s room, the bath, and the kitchen with a small table, there was only Kyle’s room, which we skipped, of course. There wasn’t a living or common room, like at Grace’s and my place.

We wound up back in the kitchen where a delicious aroma from the oven met my nose.

“You cooked?” I asked surprised. “I thought we were going to order something in.”

“Well. I don’t have guests that often. So, I thought if you were going to be here, I might as well put a little effort into it.”

My smile came from the heart. “What are we having?”

“Lasagna.”

“Really! That’s my fave.”

He grinned. “I know.”

For a moment I was so fixated on his perfect teeth that I almost forgot what we were talking about. “But how . . .” I frowned but clued in before he could answer. “Grace,” I said.

Holden nodded.

Grace was unbelievable. Even while we were pissed off at each other, she’d helped Holden organize the date. I was touched.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No. Just sit and be the guest.”

“OK. Fine by me.”

The table was already set. He’d even made a salad. I sat down but immediately jumped to my feet again when he took the hot casserole from the oven and started walking one-legged toward the table while dragging the cast behind him.

“Can’t I do anything?”

He forcefully shook his head. “You’re my guest tonight.”

When he finally made it without mishap, I breathed in relief.

“May I?” he asked, pointing at the plate.

I nodded, and Holden promptly slapped a too-large portion on my plate. I had to grin. He hadn’t lied—it was obvious he didn’t have many visitors. Or, at least, didn’t cook often for a woman. Or cooked at all, for that matter, as the far too coarsely cut onions told me. The even bigger portion he served himself surprised me. Was he really going to eat all that?

“Bon appétit,” he said.

I took the first bite with a smile. The lasagna was good. Not the best I’d ever eaten but really good.

“Do you like it?” he asked after a while. It only dawned on me then that he’d been waiting for me to comment on his culinary skills.

“Oh yeah. Tastes fabulous,” I quickly answered. “But please don’t hold it against me if I don’t finish it. This is an athlete’s portion.”

Holden looked satisfied. “Yeah, leave some room for dessert.”

“There’s dessert, too?” Now I was impressed. He’d really put in an effort.

“Ice cream.”

My eyes widened with surprise. “Made it yourself?”

“Bought it myself.”

I soon had to declare defeat—I pushed the plate away and leaned back.

“If you hear a loud pop, it’s because I’ve burst.” I was breathing heavily.

Holden smiled and finished off his family-sized portion. When he got up to clear the plates, I was shocked to see that his belly was still fairly flat despite the enormous amount he’d eaten. Mine was bulging over my belt.

“Can we wait a little for dessert?” I asked pointing at my belly.

“Sure. What about walking some of it off?”

“Sounds good. Will that work with your crutches?”

As if to answer, he swung his legs around like a gymnast on the bars and winked.

“OK. You sold me.”

Five minutes later we were out the door heading toward Riverbend Park. We strolled along the bank of the Charles River, feeling spring’s mild evening air and taking in the scent of the first lilacs of the season.

“Who taught you how to cook?” I asked.

“You can’t quite call it taught, but I watched my grandma. When I started cooking for myself, I experimented a bit. Some was OK, a lot landed in the trash can.”

“Trial and error,” I said with a noncommittal smile one uses to suggest friendliness to strangers. I wanted to bite my tongue. What a shallow phrase.

It was completely illogical, but I had serious doubts whether I should be talking about what we had written to each other. I felt like I was dealing with two people. Virtual Holden, with whom I’d chatted till late in the night, to the point of feeling I knew him inside out. And the other Holden, Live Holden, with whom, before tonight, I’d only spent a single evening on which we weren’t even alone. I found it difficult to see Virtual Holden and the one hobbling on crutches next to me as the same person. Was he the same person whose mother left him when he was just six years old? Who’d grown up with a father who was almost never home, and whose grandma, whom he loved above anyone else, was the only constant in his life? Was he the one who told me that, as a child, he’d always looked at a picture of his mother and dreamed night after night that she’d died?

“What’s on your mind?” he suddenly asked.

I felt caught, and I was surprised by how much I’d lost myself in thought.

“Is it that obvious?”

He smiled gently. “I can almost hear the wheels churning inside your head. So, what is it?”

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know how to say it. It’s . . . that, somehow, I feel like I totally know you because I already know so much about you. Then again, I think . . .”

“That we’re only just getting to know each other?” he finished the sentence for me.

“Yes, exactly.”

Holden looked at me from the side. “I feel the same way.”

“Really?”

He nodded slowly. “Like, I know that when you have kids of your own, you will do a lot of things differently with them than your mother did with you.” He suddenly stopped walking, turned toward me, and looked straight at me.

“But that little mole,” he took both crutches into his left hand, so he could lift the right one, “there, by the left corner of your mouth,” he cautiously brushed over the tiny round bump on my face with his fingertip, “I only noticed it for the first time a moment ago.”

I forgot to breathe for a second. Holden’s touch was no more than a whisper and yet it jolted my entire system. I felt it run through every fiber. Hairs rose over my entire body. My cheeks glowed. His eyes rested on my face as he let his hand drop. Like I was paralyzed, unable to move. He looked as if sizing me up, as if he were waiting for a reaction. I blinked, cleared my throat, and started again along the path.

Why are you running away, you chicken?!

I had to be in shock, I couldn’t explain it otherwise. I had imagined him touching me a thousand times. Totally fantasized about how it would feel. His skin on mine. I had longed for Holden’s touch, but now it had happened so fast that I was completely overwhelmed by the situation and left him standing there.

For a moment, he froze as if petrified, then hurried to catch up with me. His gaze rested on my face while I was doing my best to control my heartbeat. Did he know what he’d just triggered inside me? I’d never felt this with Tom. Not even with Seth.

“Can we sit down for a moment there?” Holden asked, pointing to a park bench under a mighty linden tree. “My leg needs a break.”

“Sure.” My voice still sounded alien. I had to clear my throat again. While Holden propped up his leg on his crutches, I took a moment to become myself again. I let my eyes wander. It was really beautiful here. I had been jogging along the Charles River several times but had never noticed this spot.

A group of teens was loitering nearby. They laughed and talked. Two girls about sixteen hummed along with the pop music coming from the small speakers paired with an iPod.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, you know,” Holden suddenly confessed.

I turned toward him. “What’s a while?”

“Since I first saw you, to be honest.”

“When was that?”

“At a dorm party last fall. You were there with some guy.”

He could only mean Tom. The way he said guy confirmed my assumption. Tom thought he was better than others and made them feel it.

“That was a while ago,” I said.

“I had a girlfriend then,” he said, and in the same moment it clicked. An image sprang to mind. I’d also seen Holden for the first time at that party. Making out uninhibitedly with a busty blonde.

“Oh. Now I remember,” I said ambiguously. “And I even remember your girlfriend.” Only now did I dare look at Holden again. The amused look in my face resulted in a shared smile. “I remember wondering whether you two were going to do it on the dance floor.”

The color of Holden’s face changed conspicuously.

“Yesss,” he answered. “Monica was very . . . special.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Special?”

“We didn’t stay together for long.”

I had to laugh. “And you noticed me? Despite your enrapturing company?”

He nodded. “I watched you the whole evening.”

“It didn’t look that way,” I answered, still smiling.

“Believe me.” His voice suddenly took on an entirely different tone. Ernest and somehow imploring. “I watched you the whole evening. And any other time I saw you.”

At first, I didn’t know what to say. That it was the same for me? That I thought of him in very . . . private moments? That I hadn’t been able to think of anything but him for days.

“Me too,” I answered plainly and looked straight into his eyes.

Coldplay’s “Fix You” was playing through the teenagers’ speakers. I loved that song. It was the perfect soundtrack for that moment.

I noticed the movement of Holden’s Adam’s apple as I looked at him, and that he swallowed hard. He seemed frozen—as if overcome by a sudden bout of insecurity. Then he moved really close to me and looked straight back into my eyes for so long that it almost became uncomfortable.

“Green eyes are the rarest.” His voice was so gentle. “Only two percent of people in the world have them.” He was so close that the tips of our noses almost touched. “And green eyes are the only ones that can change color, did you know that?”

He put his hand on my cheek, and my entire body twitched as if a thousand volts shot through it.

“Depending on the mood, they may appear blue, gray, or even golden.”

“Really?” My voice sounded far too shrill.

Holden came the last inch toward me. I held my breath. He was so close, I could feel his warm breath in my face. Holden closed his eyes, only for a second or two, then opened them again, and their ocean-blue gaze blasted right through my heart.

“You have the most gorgeous green eyes I’ve ever seen,” he said.

Then he kissed me.