I knocked down a mailbox with my car last month and didn’t even stop.
“You guys are ridiculous.” I pushed the pile of balloons into my locker before slamming it shut. “This is horrifying.”
“Horrifyingly fantastic.” Chris laughed and Rox straightened one of the streamers on the outside of my locker. It was March 4, my birthday, and instead of being subtle, they’d decorated my locker and filled it with balloons.
Which, I had to admit, was nice. I’d been bummed for the past couple of weeks, but now I was able to make it through an entire period of Chemistry without looking at Nick Stark once.
I was a damn hero.
Things were feeling better, so this celebration was like a little punctuation mark on my life’s refresh. I’d worn an adorable new black-and-white dotted dress that made me feel like Audrey Hepburn, and the ruffled cardigan I paired with it made me feel a little Taylor Swift, as well.
“I’ve got to get to class,” I said, pulling my bag over my shoulder. “Meet you here after school?”
“You got it,” Chris said, grinning at Rox like they were hilarious before walking away with her.
I had Lit after that, then—ugh—Chemistry.
I went straight to my stool, pulled out my book, opened it to the correct page, and then immediately started scrolling on my phone. Like I’d done every day for the last couple of weeks.
I’d just opened Instagram when Nick said, “Emilie.”
I stopped scrolling but didn’t look up. “Yeah?” Did he need a pen or something?
“Happy birthday.”
I raised my eyes and said, “Gee, thanks.”
But in that half-second before I looked back at my phone, my brain archived his serious blue eyes, clenched jaw, black hoodie, and the gravel in his deep voice.
“Is it—”
“Please don’t.” I slow-blinked and managed, “You’ve said all you’ve needed to say, okay? We’re good.”
He didn’t say anything, but just swallowed and gave me a nod.
Bong came in and started lecturing, and I forced myself to forget about Nick and think about how much fun I was going to have with Chris, Alex, Rox, and Trey after school. We were going downtown for a birthday dinner at Spaghetti Works—my favorite restaurant—followed by ice cream at Ted and Wally’s.
I couldn’t wait.
When class ended, I gathered my things and got out quickly, just in case Nick tried to make himself feel better again. The day dragged by so slowly—probably because I was beyond excited for it to end—but eventually the final bell rang.
“Finally,” I said, smiling as I saw them waiting at my locker. Alex was quickly becoming part of our little friend group, mostly because he and Chris were inseparable, and I felt lucky that we’d found him.
“Let’s go, Birthday Girl.”
They let me select all the songs on the radio as we drove through the streets, which was my favorite thing in the world. We had a blast singing at the top of our lungs, but I swallowed hard when we got downtown.
Because my favorite place was now stained with memories of him.
I looked out my window and there was the bank building, hovering above us with the vivid recollections of Nick doing the awful Cupid Shuffle, giving me a piggyback ride, almost kissing me in the elevator, and racing me up the stairs.
It’d been the best day.
I forced myself to put those events out of my head and focus on fun with my friends.
We rummaged through antique stores, vinyl shops, and expensive boutiques before finally going into the restaurant.
“I’m starving,” I said, breathing deeply as my favorite smells in the world found their way to my nose.
“You’re always starving when carbs are involved,” Chris said, and he wasn’t wrong. He actually attempted to eat healthy and had always been disgustedly amused by my utter lack of caring.
“Have you ever had their chicken strips?” Alex asked as we followed the hostess to a table.
“You’re in Spaghetti Works,” I said, rolling my eyes and making a face at him. “Please do not embarrass me and order chicken.”
“I wouldn’t test her,” Rox said, holding hands with Trey as they followed behind us. “She’s absurdly loyal to this place.”
“Noted,” Alex said.
When the hostess led us to a big table that overlooked the salad bar car, Chris said, “I’m sorry—can we get a window seat?”
I looked at him and smiled, and he threw one right back at me. Chris and I used to play a game at the window seats, where we’d guess the backstory of every person who walked by. I was kind of touched that he was still sentimental about it.
“No problem,” she said, and gestured toward the table in front of the big bay window that overlooked the sidewalk.
“Thanks,” I said, and we all sat down at the window table.
We lost ourselves in laughter and conversation after that. Rox and Trey and Chris—and, as it turned out, Alex as well—were the funniest people I knew. There was nothing as fun as having multiple hours to just hang with them without things like jobs, homework, and boyfriends getting in the way.
They made fun of me—rightfully so—when I finished my second helping of spaghetti before Alex had even finished his first, and I cackled when Rox and Chris got super into the backstory game.
“The couple walking the dog have been together for fifteen years, but only married for one,” Chris said. “It’s been their worst year, and they both know they ruined it by taking those vows.”
“Dark,” I laughed.
“Right?” said Alex.
“She finally caved because she could tell her annual refusals hurt him,” Rox said, “but now she is the one hurting. They both want to end it, but neither of them can work up the energy to say it.”
“He works sixty hours a week just to avoid going home,” Trey added.
“Actually,” Chris added, pointing toward the dog, “that dog is their glue right now. Neither of them can bear the thought of giving up custody of…”
“Meatball.”
“Yes, Meatball,” Chris said, acknowledging Alex’s addition with a nod of the head. “Neither of them can bear losing Meatball, so they walk that beast together every night after dinner, each of them dreaming about being anywhere other than where they are.” I took a sip of my soda and said, “You just took the game and made it depressing. Fix it with this lady.”
We all looked out the window, and a tall woman in a jumpsuit and a beret was walking by, talking into her phone.
Chris said, “This is Claire. She used to be a model, but quit her jet-setting lifestyle to come home and take care of her uncle Billy.”
“Who lost his memory in a microwave oven accident.” Alex beamed, getting into the game. “Now he can only talk about NASCAR and the women from The View.”
We all started laughing.
Rox said, “She takes care of that guy during the day, but at night she likes to put on her supermodel clothes and search the Old Market for men who might be interested in taking her swing dancing.”
“Does that mean sex?”
“Of course it means sex.” Trey rolled his eyes and added, “She dances with them, and when they fall asleep, she kills them and sells their organs on the black market.”
“Brutal.”
“But lucrative.”
I giggled and reached for Chris’s garlic bread. “Okay, Alex—you do this guy.”
Alex glanced at me, then looked out the window. “Everyone who knows this guy thinks he’s a jerk because he never smiles.”
I glanced up from my bread and saw a guy in a black jacket walking by with a box under his arm.
“But he’s actually a nice guy who is wracked with regret for being a jerk to someone he truly cares about.”
The guy glanced up at the window and—
It was Nick.
“He had a perfect day with the perfect girl,” Rox said, “but his cynical heart refused to believe it could last, so he pushed her away.”
I looked at Rox and could barely find my voice to say, “What are you doing?”
“It wasn’t until he cleaned out his truck and could still smell her perfume on his brother’s jacket,” Trey said, “that he was almost suffocated by how much he missed her.”
“What is this?” I sniffled and blinked fast as Nick stopped walking and looked directly up at us.
At me.
Alex continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “He knows he screwed up his chance, but he just wants to give her a present for her birthday. Then he’ll go.”
I looked down at his face, handsome, and the only face in the world that made me want to cry. As I watched him, he swallowed and gave me the intense stare that I could feel from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
I shook my head and looked away from the window and into the faces of my friends. “I don’t think my heart can take this game anymore.”
Chris said, “Just go hear him out.”
I took a deep breath. Then I stood and walked across the restaurant and over to the front door, throwing it open and stepping outside. I was about to walk in the direction of where we’d seen him through the window when I heard, “Em.”
I looked to my right and there he was, standing beside the door, waiting for me.
It wasn’t fair how handsome he was. He was still wearing the black hoodie, and I hated how the sight of him negated every little bit of fun I’d been having with my friends. Looking at Nick just made me want to go home and cry.
I crossed my arms and said, “I’m trying to have dinner with my friends. What do you need, Nick?”
He gestured with his head for me to follow him over to one of the outdoor seating tables that was vacant because it was too cold for anyone to eat outside. I rolled my eyes and walked behind him, irritated that he was somehow managing to be bossy on my birthday.
“Open it.” He set the box on the table, looked at me with those eyes that’d haunted me in my daydreams, and he said, “Please.”
He seemed so… intense. His jaw was clenched, his eyes laser-focused on me. I took a deep breath and told myself that I didn’t know why my stomach was full of butterflies. I reached out and pulled the edge of the red ribbon that was tied into a perfect bow, but when I pulled the lid off of the white box and looked inside, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
I glanced at him and the only word I could come up with was, “How?”
He shrugged as I put my hands in the box and pulled out the cake.
The purple unicorn cake with the sparkly frosting.
The one I’d wanted on my ninth birthday.
I couldn’t believe my eyes as I lifted it all the way out and set it on the table. The shiny golden horn, the glittery unicorn, the sparkly purple frosting. It said Happy Birthday, Em, the way I’d desperately wanted it to when I was in the fourth grade.
But… Nick had never seen the cake before.
“How on earth did you do this, Nick?”
He gave a little shrug of his shoulders. “I got help.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” I said, putting my shaking hands on my hips and trying to figure out this guy who might’ve just gotten me the most thoughtful gift I’d ever received.
He said, “Max knows the bakery owner.”
“Max?”
“Your grandma.”
My brain wasn’t firing fast enough for me to keep up. I squinted at him and said, “My grandma helped you?”
He nodded.
“Um, as far as I’m aware, the one time you met her she asked you to get off her porch.” I searched his face for an answer, but his mouth slid into his tiny smirk, the one that made him look pleased with himself but not quite friendly. I said, “Please explain yourself, Nick Stark.”
“I went over to your grandma’s and asked what she knew about the purple unicorn cake.” His eyes moved over my face, making my heart pound, and he said, “As it turns out, she’s been having a fling with the bakery owner for years, so she called him and asked him to make one for you.”
I blinked. “My grandma’s dating Old Man Miller?”
“I don’t know if it’s technically dating since she said they just have sleepovers—”
“Ew.”
“But they’re close.”
I stared at the cake, unable to slow down my thoughts. Nick went over to my grandma’s just to see if she knew about the cake?
I managed to say, “I can’t believe you remembered the cake.”
“I remember everything about you, Em.”
The crack in his voice brought my eyes back to his face.
“I do.” His voice was raspy when he said, “I remember the ‘Thong Song,’ the breathy sound of your voice after I kiss you, and the way you kissed my nose when you thought I was sad.”
A train whistle blew in the distance, its sound almost haunting in the cold darkness.
“I messed up,” he said as he stared down at me, “and I’ve regretted it every minute since you walked away in the school parking lot.”
I swallowed and my eyes traveled all over him, drinking in the one person I hadn’t allowed myself to really look at since he’d broken my heart.
“I fell in love with you on Valentine’s Day, Emilie, but I need more than just seven minutes.”
“You do?” Warmth started sliding through every molecule inside of me. I wanted to be closer to him, but first I had to ask, “What about everything you said after Valentine’s Day, though? What about the mirage?”
Nick lifted his hand like he wanted to touch my face but stopped himself and said, “You were right. About me being stupid because of Eric.”
I cringed. “I didn’t say that.”
“You implied I was holding back because of him, and it’s come to my attention since then that it’s probably true.”
“It has? Really?”
“Yeah.” He made a face like It’s all so dramatic and he said, “As it turns out, when your parents have a yard sale and you lose your ever-loving shit because they’re giving away your dead brother’s baseball hat the day after the one-year anniversary, you have issues.”
“Oh no.” I take a step toward him, reaching out my hand to touch the sleeve of his hoodie. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He cleared his throat and said, “Believe it or not, I’m glad. I’ve actually started seeing a therapist. I don’t know, it’s really weird, talking to a stranger, but also kind of like a relief.”
“Nick, that’s so grea—”
“Stop.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and said around a smirk, “The last thing I want is the girl I’m obsessed with to tell me she’s proud of me for going to therapy. I’ve got a mother for that, thank you.”
That made me laugh. “I knew you were obsessed.”
“Yes, Emilie Hornby, I’m here to tell you that I’m a little obsessed with you. With this.” He raised his hands and cupped my face. “With us.” His eyes crinkled at the corners and his mouth slid into the full-on smile that made me weak in the knees.
“Don’t get all clingy on me now, Stark,” I said, but the “k” sound got cut off when his mouth covered mine. Electricity and liquid warmth drizzled through my body as Nick kissed me like only Nick could.
Somewhere in the distance I heard my friends clapping, but nothing could’ve pulled me away from the one person in the world who knew it took a sparkly purple unicorn cake to sweep me off my feet.
Nick stayed for the celebration, holding my hand as we all walked around the Old Market together after dinner. And when it was time to call it a night, he asked me quietly, so no one else could hear, “Can I drive you home?”
Of course I said yes.
He looked over at me as I held my hands in front of his truck’s heater vents on the way home, and he said, “Do you ever dress warm enough?”
“I don’t like to cover up a good outfit with a bulky coat,” I said, grinning as he looked at me like I was a silly child.
“Well, here,” he said, reaching a hand into the back seat while he drove. “You can wear E’s jacket again. It still smells like your perfume from the DONC.”
He held out the coat to me, and it was like looking at an old friend. “I didn’t know this was your brother’s coat.” I took it gently and laid it over my lap, running my hands over the fabric.
“That’s because you acted like it belonged to you,” he teased.
“True,” I agreed, thinking about all the times I’d worn it that he didn’t even know about. So many crashes on repeat, so many wearings of that jacket.
Although.
I looked down at the army-green coat. Now that I was thinking about it, I’d worn it on the very first Valentine’s Day. The one that’d started it all.
Valentine’s Day.
The anniversary of his brother’s death.
But I never fell asleep in it—until the DONC. The last Valentine’s Day.
Dragging me out of my thoughts, Nick found my hand and interlaced it with his. He gave me a look that made butterflies go wild inside me, and then he said, “By the way, I never thanked you for making me go along with your DONC day. I had a great time with you—”
“Of course you did,” I teased, which made him give me a funny grin.
“But the stuff in the afternoon?” He looked over at me with superserious eyes. “E would’ve loved it.”
“Yeah?” I looked down at the jacket.
“Yeah,” he said, merging onto the freeway. “I’m not going to act all trippy-universe-hippie shit, but swear to God, if you knew him, he would’ve thought it was the perfect day.”
Whoa. I leaned back against the seat and buried my hands in the pockets of that coat. Eric’s idea of a perfect day—the day I forgot to give back the coat—was the day the time loop ended.
“Why are you smiling like that?”
I hadn’t even realized I was smiling. I glanced over at Nick and asked, “Like what?”
He kind of laughed, his eyes crinkling in the happy way that I adored, and said, “You’re scary-grinning.”
“I’m not scary-grinning.”
“You seriously were.” He shook his head and said through a big smile, “Like some creeper who likes watching televised parades and dressing cats in sweaters.”
He was quoting himself, from one of the forgotten Valentine’s Days, and he had no idea. I fell hard into his teasing laughter, the warm rumble of happiness that should’ve always been his sound, and I felt incredibly grateful.
Thank you, Eric.
“I’m not a creeper.” I scooted closer to him on that old truck’s bench seat. “I’m just a girl who is incandescently happy at the moment.”
His eyes met mine, his grin mischievous, and he said, “Any girl willing to rip off Austen to express her happiness is totally my kind of creeper.”
And I was.
I was absolutely Nick Stark’s kind of creeper.
I glanced down at my arm and smiled. I couldn’t see the tattoo through the sweater and jacket, but I could almost feel it buzzing. Its words were like an electrical current burned into my skin.
Everything in my life had changed, but I had zero regrets.
I had a marvelous time ruining everything
