Tell Me It’s Right (Sweetspire #1)

Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

GRACIE

Liam: Be ready at 6:30

Gracie: …ready for what?

Liam: For me to pick you up

Gracie: For. What?

Liam: :)

My bathroom sink is drowning in used makeup wipes. Every time I get a few steps into my routine, something goes wrong and I whip one out, wipe it off, and start over.

It’s just an off day. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact it’s already six o’clock.

We’ve been dancing around what happened on the Fourth of July for nearly two weeks now. Despite the skatepark and the beach and the flirting, the handholding and the looks he gives me and the texts he sends even when we’re in the same room…

He hasn’t kissed me again.

And man, my overactive imagination has loved cartwheeling through every possible thing that could mean.

In the end, I do the same makeup I do every day for work. Anything different and he’ll probably notice, then he might think I’m trying too hard, and?—

“Oh my God, get it together,” I mutter under my breath and force myself out of the bathroom as if I can physically leave the overthinking behind me.

I keep the outfit casual too—some jean shorts, a cropped tank top, and a zip-up hoodie. I pace around my room, not wanting to go upstairs yet but out of things to do, and if I let myself look in the mirror again, I’ll start messing around in a never-ending cycle. Keava and Leo already left for their biweekly dinner date night, so the house is quiet.

The pacing is not calming. My hands are sweating, and my heart is beating too fast, and I don’t think I was even this nervous before my date with Miles. Why am I so nervous? It’s just Liam. I’m around him almost every day, have been long before this job.

It’s just Liam.

But also: this is Liam.

Older than me, cooler than me, already knows everything embarrassing that’s ever happened to me, Liam.

The doorbell rings.

The only thing that gets me up the stairs is inertia.

One foot in front of the other. Don’t think about it. We’re just moving, moving, moving ? —

I swing the door open without allowing myself to hesitate.

Liam is standing on the porch with his hands casually tucked in his pockets. For some reason, the image is entirely…foreign. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him use the doorbell and wait outside before.

“Hey.” He smiles and nods sideways toward his truck. “Ready to go?”

“I’m guessing it’s pointless to ask you where…”

“Yep,” he says cheerfully, then heads to get the car door for me.

He says nothing else as we drive, just lets the soft radio music fill the space between us. I tightly wind my hands together in my lap and peek at him out of the corner of my eye. As always, he’s the picture of calm and relaxed. He has one hand thrown over the top of the steering wheel, and he bobs his head absently to the song as his eyes sweep the road.

And he looks… nice. I can’t really put my finger on what it is. He’s wearing pretty much the same thing he always does—loose-fitting jeans and a T-shirt, though he has a shirt with a collar layered on top this time. His hair is as messy and tousled as always. Same silver rings and chain around his neck.

He must feel my attention on him because he shoots a quick look my way with half a smile. “We’re almost there.”

I peer out the window. Wherever we’re going, it’s close to Leo’s house. If he keeps going straight, we’ll hit the water. He veers right before we hit the main area, then drives along the coast for a few minutes. Golden rays make him glow as the sun prepares to set behind him.

“Here we are.” Gravel crunches beneath the tires as he pulls into a small parking lot that backs up to thickly wooded dunes. I squint through the window and spot a narrow, sandy path that cuts down the middle.

“Did you bring me out here to murder me?”

“I found this place last summer,” he says as he hops out of the truck and circles to my side. He offers a hand to help me down, but even once I’m standing beside him, he doesn’t let go. “It’s quiet,” he continues as he pulls me toward the path. “Hardly ever see anyone else here.”

“You’re not making me feel better about the murder thing.”

He laughs and tightens his hand around mine in a way that has my stomach doing flips.

I can’t see the water at all over the brush, but the sound of the waves grows louder as I follow him through the sand. When we break through the foliage at the end of the path, I stop short.

The sun is just starting to set over the water, painting the sky in electric hues of pink and orange, but it’s the colorful display on our right that I can’t look away from.

There’s a wide red-and-white-checkered picnic blanket spread out on the sand. An array of snacks, drinks, paints, and two blank canvases sit on top, along with a small sign with block letters wedged into the sand.

Can I be your boyfriend?

I stare at it as if my brain can’t comprehend the words.

Liam steps up beside the display, looking nothing like he had in the car. He shifts his weight and swallows hard as he meets my eyes.

He’s nervous , I realize. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him nervous.

I stare at him. He stares back.

Slowly, my lips curl. “You did the grand gesture,” I murmur.

He returns my smile. “Had to consider my audience. You didn’t answer the question.”

I let out a small laugh as he leads me to the blanket.

“Gracie…” He pauses and wets his lips. “I know we talked about not making a big deal out of this. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since, because the thing is, I do want to make a big deal of it. I haven’t had any interest in dating in a long time. And then you come back into my life like a fucking storm.” He smiles as he says it, and his thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand. “And I don’t want this to be something that just passes through. I know it’s more complicated than that. I guess what I’m saying is, I want to give this a real try. If you do.”

I know now’s the part where I say something, but I’m frozen, mute. I think I’m barely breathing at this point.

He leans back. “If I’ve misread everything?—”

“You haven’t.” I tighten my hand around his before he can let go. “You haven’t misread anything. I…like you. A lot. And it scares the hell out of me.”

“For what it’s worth,” he murmurs, “I’m nervous too.”

“Liar. Nothing makes you nervous.”

His gaze flicks from my eyes to my mouth. “You do. So, is that a…?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

Finally, finally , he leans forward and presses his lips to mine again. My eyes flutter shut, and I melt into it. Into him. I thought maybe after kissing the same person a few times, the novelty would wear off. That it would start to feel, well, as bland and normal as the other men I’d kissed. But with Liam…every gentle brush of his lips, every exhale, every trace of his tongue, threatens to make my knees buckle. I feel his mouth curl into a smile against mine before he pulls away.

“I would like to propose a contest,” he says.

My eyebrows fly up. “A contest?”

He hands me a plastic champagne flute and pops the cork, then juts his chin at the paints and canvases as he pours us each a glass. “I do your portrait, you do mine.”

“You want me to paint you ? That’s completely unfair. You’re an artist.”

“So are you.”

I scoff and grab a grape from the charcuterie board he positions between us. “I take pictures, not make them.”

He tsks and shakes his head. “Too afraid to lose to even try. I thought better of you. Really. Besides, I never draw people. I’m terrible at them. Believe me, it’s a level playing field.”

“You know what? Fine.” I snatch up the best-looking paintbrush. “How long do we get?”

He shrugs and nods at the setting sun. “Until we lose the light.”

We fall into silence as we set our stations up, the drinks and food nestled on a small tray between us. Liam chews on his lip as he looks from me to the canvas and sketches with a pencil. His hair falls into his eyes as he works, and even as he looks at me, I can’t tell he’s not looking at me, looking at me. He’s completely consumed with the task at hand.

I swipe a few colors across mine with a large brush, then get to blending them. I stand no chance at making this realistic, but I might be able to semi-pull off something abstract. Hopefully I retained something from those required art classes in college.

I press my lips together as I take everything in. The sunset. The picnic. The art. The sign. The sea breeze full of the salty scent of home.

It’s cheesy, cliché, over-the-top, and nothing like Liam…but it’s everything that I love. And I don’t know why it comes as a surprise that he knows that.

I lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

He pauses with his paintbrush in the air.

I smile as he meets my eyes. “This was really sweet. Thank you.”

He drops his eyes for a moment. If I didn’t know him better, I’d swear he looked a little self-conscious. “I know it probably doesn’t compare to your books but?—”

“It’s better,” I say, meaning it. It’s everything I was beginning to think was never going to happen for me. Wasn’t sure if it was real.

Slowly, he narrows his eyes. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“You never said that was against the rules.”

His smile grows. “I clearly underestimated you.”

“Clearly.”

He leans in to kiss me, but I push myself back with a grin and return to my station. He grabs my leg before I can tuck it beneath me, then lays it over his thigh so my foot rests in his lap. He says nothing else as that concentrated look falls over his features, but he leaves his hand resting on my ankle, his thumb stroking back and forth.

And suddenly everything is quiet. It’s like every cell in my body was vibrating as fast as it could, static blasting in my ears, my skin hyperaware of every sensation around me to a nearly overwhelming degree—but when I feel his touch, everything just stops.

We stay like that until the last of the light drains from the sky.

“You’re such a liar,” I mumble.

Liam chuckles as he starts the truck and pulls out of the parking lot.

I squint and hold his painting up, inspecting it. Not only is the portrait of me detailed and proportionate and perfect , but he added the sunset and waves in the background too. It looks like it was professionally done.

His hand settles on my thigh as he turns onto the main road. “Yours turned out great too, what are you talking about?”

Granted, I did surprise myself a little. His portrait is in a completely different style. I didn’t even bother trying to get into the details of his features, instead opting to get the outline of him as accurate as I could before experimenting with wide and multicolored brushstrokes, letting the sunset blend in with him.

It’s not that I’ve never tried painting before. I took plenty of art classes in college, but I was never a natural at them. Something about the canvas has never spoken to me the way a camera does.

But tonight, admittedly, was fun.

“I still think you won,” I sigh.

He pumps his fist in the air.

I rest my head against the seat and look at him. “What’s the prize?”

He purses his lips, considering. “You have to do what I want for our next date.”

“You’re going to put me back on that death trap, aren’t you?”

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t like it. We’ll see. To be determined.”

Liam keeps one hand in mine for the rest of the drive, but the closer we get to the house, the larger the unspoken part of tonight grows between us.

As he parks his truck beside the curb—several houses down from Leo’s—he sighs and turns to me. “I want to tell Leo, if that’s all right with you. And I’d like him to hear it from me. As much fun as I’ve been having with you…I’ve hated feeling like I’m hiding something from him.”

“I know. I have too.”

He gives me a tight smile before stroking his thumb across the back of my hand once then releasing it.

“You seem worried,” I say. “You don’t think he’ll take it well?”

His eyes dart to Leo’s house down the street as a crease forms between his eyebrows. The lights are on inside, so Leo and Keava must be home now. “I don’t know. I just need a little bit to figure out the right way to tell him, okay?”

I nod. “Thanks for tonight, Liam. I had a really nice time.”

He smiles, softening whatever that look in his eyes had been. “Me too. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

I climb out of the truck once I realize he’s not going to kiss me or open my door like he did before. He smiles and waves before he takes off, and I hesitate on the curb, a weird mix of disappointment and confusion in the pit of my stomach.