by Laura Burton
“Will you not look at me?” His voice is almost pleading now. I shut my eyes, trying to ignore the voice in my head screaming at me to move. Maybe I should hear him out. Whatever he’s come to say must be important if he’s willing to risk getting hypothermia for it.
“Did you have something to say?” I ask stiffly. I turn my head to the side so I can glimpse him in my peripheral vision.
Wyatt stands dripping on my tile floor, his hair shaggy and wet in front of his eyes. He’s shivering and holding something. Or two things.
“I thought you were pretending to be a geek girl on the spectrum to make me fall for you,” Wyatt says, a hint of amusement in his voice. I whip around to frown at him and tell him he got that all wrong. But then we lock eyes and he holds up the makeover spread in one hand. It’s the first time I’ve seen it, not having had any interest in seeing the ridiculous spread, especially after I left the magazine. I take a step forward, and squint at the magazine. “They Photoshopped my nose!”
I guess the average person wouldn’t notice. But I know my button nose, and the one in the magazine is too narrow to pass as my own.
Then I remember the steel door, the size of my nose in Noelle’s mirror, and her comment about Photoshop doing “the rest.”
Wyatt pays no attention to my comment. He’s just staring at me. His eyes seem to take in every contour of my face, as if he’s memorizing my image so he can print a 3D model of me later.
He puts the magazine spread down and points at the picture on the left. “This is the real you, isn’t it?”
He then takes the rest of me in, and I fiddle with my glasses, realizing this is the first time he’s seen me without contacts. He lowers his gaze to my baggy shirt, leggings, and oversized boots. Finally, his gaze meets mine again, and he holds up a bag of Cheetos.
“I remember you.”
I stare at the bag of Cheetos for a moment. He takes my hand carefully, and when I don’t flinch, it seems to give him courage. “All this time, you were right in front of me, and I didn’t see you.”
He drags his thumb along my knuckles and the skin under his thumb is wrinkled. Just how long was he standing out in the rain, waiting for me? His shirt clings to his torso, revealing every muscle on his chest. “I’m so sorry. You were right. I didn’t show any interest until I saw you on the subway. But do you know why I asked you out?”
I frown. “Because I looked like that,” I point at the picture on the right page of the open magazine. The corner of Wyatt’s mouth picks up. “Not exactly,” he says, humored.
I frown at him. “Then why…”
“Have you already forgotten what I asked you?”
I blink at the floor, trying to recall the moment. I was all dressed up in that ridiculous blue prom dress, then Wyatt and I started talking about cameras stealing your soul. “Why I hate having my picture taken.”
Wyatt shakes his head, then glances around the room. Then he points to my bag hanging on the wall near the front door. “There. You were carrying that bag, remember?”
I look at the brown bag, with a picture of a dragon sleeping on a pile of gold.
“The Hobbit,” I say, my voice weakening. I thought Wyatt had shown interest in me because of my makeover, but it was really because…
“I love Tolkien’s books, and the worlds he built… And any woman who is interested in that too, is a woman I want to get to know,” he says.
“So when you casually mentioned wanting to go to New Zealand…” I start, and Wyatt nods, excited. “If I’m being honest, I could talk about Middle Earth all day, every day. If I could fly over there and live in Hobbiton for the rest of my life, I would. And ever since I was a little boy, I wanted to be like Aragorn, King of Gondor. He’s the bravest person I’ve ever read about.”
“So, the makeover, the flirting, the cheesy chat up lines, and exaggerated laughter…”
“Oh, no. None of those things meant anything to me,” Wyatt says, sounding matter-of-fact. “I fell for you in spite of all those things.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised by his honesty. Then all the pieces fall together in my mind.
He’s just as into Lord of the Rings as I am. Maybe even more, because it’s not often that I think about living in Middle Earth. It’s impossible for one thing… I mean, it’s fiction. He does know it’s fiction, right? I hope he’s not like that other weird guy I met at the grocery store one night who told me The Matrix was real and then offered me a choice between a blue and red pill.
But then I catch Wyatt shivering again and I take the bag of Cheetos out of his hand, plonking it on the counter. “Take your shirt off.”
“Wait, what?” he asks, frowning at me. I give him a lopsided smile.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to pounce on you. But you’re going to get sick if you stay in these wet clothes, so come on!” I yank the shirt over his head, and a ripple of abs come into view. His pectorals tense and I plant my hands on them, feeling for his heartbeat.
“In the spirit of being brutally honest,” I whisper, “I did target you after Helen assigned me with the article.” Then I plant a soft kiss on his chest. Wyatt’s hands find my waist and he lowers his head to get a good look at me. “Yes,” he says. “When I thought about it, I came to the conclusion that that was the case.”
I lift myself up on my toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry. When I got to know you better, I did feel bad about it.”
The corners of Wyatt’s eyes crease as he grins. “But that didn’t make you stop… Why?”
I pull back to look at him properly. “You know why.”
Then Wyatt scoops me up in his burly arms and lifts me up from the floor. His hair drips water onto my cheeks and I swear they sizzle from the heat of my blush. “Tell me,” he says. “I want to hear it from your pretty lips.”
I huff, but Wyatt keeps me held up and I become acutely aware of how close our mouths are. I could just lift my head and kiss him if I wanted to.
Do I want to?
I feel groggy. Like the rain somehow seeped through my skull and made it all soggy and slow. Wyatt was attracted to me because of our common interest… Not because I was pretending to be Malibu Barbie. Well, now I can’t remember why I’m upset with him.
In fact, now I can’t understand why we’re not picking up where we left off after the book fair.
“Why didn’t you stop?” Wyatt asks me again, pulling me back to the present. I blink into his beautiful brown eyes. A sheepish grin takes over my face.
He wants me to say something cheesy, but I refuse. I’m not going to be that woman who tells her boyfriend of less than a month that she loves him. But Wyatt deserves the truth, and so I decide to tell him the purest thought that springs to my mind.
“Because being with you feels like I’m home.”
Wyatt carries me to the couch and lowers me tenderly, then kicks off his shoes and crawls on top of me like a tiger. But then he plants two soft kisses on my cheeks and brushes a few strands of my hair away from my face. “Well, you are home, Lucy.”
He leans back and studies me for a minute, his eyes narrowing on my shirt. I follow his line of sight and notice the lump over my collarbone. Slowly, I reach under my shirt and pull out the Evenstar pendant. It glimmers innocently on my palm.
“I haven’t taken it off, not once,” I admit.
Wyatt’s face lights up. You’d think we were lovers lost to each other for the past 15 years and I’d just told him I never took off his ring. I mean, it’s only been a few days. Let’s keep things in perspective here.
“I’m no good at formalities, or what I’m supposed to say next,” Wyatt says, dragging a hand across his face. “But I want to be with you Lucy. And I want us to go to conventions together, watch all the Lord of the Rings movies back to back, tour the film locations in New Zealand… and I want to talk to you about it for the rest of my life.”
The declaration would make my sisters groan and roll their eyes. They might even whisper t
o me to get the heck away from the weirdo. But the way I see it, it might as well have been a proposal.
I grin, sit up, and plant my hands on each side of his face. Then I give him my best impression of a sultry look, and whisper Elvish words to him.
Wyatt frowns and bursts into a laugh. “You want to smell my feet?”
My cheeks burn. “No! I said I want to be with you for eternity!”
Wyatt rubs my arms and grins. “No. You said you want to smell my feet. But it’s okay, I’ll teach you how to speak Quenya properly.”
I inch closer to him. “So, you’re not running away again?” I ask, my lips brushing his. “Never,” he whispers back. Then he wraps me up in his arms and seals the promise with a heart pounding kiss.
Epilogue
Lucy
“...and that’s why I feel I would be a great fit for your blog.” I finish my fifteen-minute speech with a beam of confidence and look at the poor guy interviewing me, who looks like he’s just been hit over the head by a frying pan.
“I have to say, I don’t think I know anyone who knows that much about World of Warcraft,” he says, exhaling deeply. “And I didn’t know about all those Easter eggs you picked up on between the Narnia books and Lord of the Rings.”
“Well, J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis were best friends,” I say, leaning forward. “So, it’s purely logical that there would be a few nods to the other author, right?”
The man––Christopher––inclines his head and thumbs through the stack of articles I printed. “Your knowledge is very impressive, and your writing skills are more than adequate.”
“I also have a collection of fanfiction stories and poetry, if you would like to take a look––”
“No!” Christopher holds up both hands, as if to ward off evil. “I think we’re good. Well, LordoftheGeeks could really use a writer like you. Can you start Monday?”
I start nodding like one of those bobble head dogs. “I sure can! Thank you so much. I won’t let you down.”
I wait until I’ve left the office block and rounded the corner before I jump and throw my fist in the air with a shout of triumph.
“The interview went well, I guess?”
I whip around to see Wyatt, arms folded and leaning against the building with a casual smirk. I run up to him and throw my arms around his shoulders.
“Hook, line, and sinker.”
I stand on tiptoes and we kiss for several long moments. When we break apart, Wyatt’s face is flushed. “I had no doubts.”
The last four months have been like a dream. Wyatt and I spent hours and hours in my game room, talking about our common interests and playing multiplayer games. We went to his parents for a barbecue, then a movie night. And again for the summer fair at Snowdrop Valley. I love the small town and how time seems to slow down there.
By the time Blaze finally landed me an interview at his friend’s company, I’d already built a rapport with a smaller blog, LordoftheGeeks, exchanging several emails back and forth with Christopher, until they finally let me come in for a chat.
While I was unemployed, I completed another fanfiction novel about Aragorn and Arwen, which has already earned more views and likes than any of my previous work.
Wyatt took me to Denver for the bi-annual Followers of the Ring convention, and pretty soon, we’re going on a trip to New Zealand––just as soon as Wyatt’s work settles down.
Leila was wrong before, and Chessy was kind of right. Leila isn’t just expecting one baby. She’s pregnant with three. Blaze can’t stop boasting to everyone and anyone about it. As if the natural phenomenon somehow had anything to do with him.
Chessy screeched with excitement when Leila broke the news. “I told you. You’re going to have a billion babies!” And when she was told three babies does not exactly equate to one billion, Chessy just shrugged and said, “It’s practically the same thing.”
I’m strolling hand in hand with Wyatt, and the late summer sun is beaming down on us. All is well in the world.
“Come on, let’s help your baby sister get packed up,” Wyatt says, turning to kiss my forehead before leading me to the removal truck parked on the street. Chessy hops out of the front seat when she sees us and eyes me warily. “Well?”
I spread out my arms. “I got the job!”
Chessy wraps her arms around my middle and lifts me into the air. “Yes, Lucy!” She hops up and down, then pulls Wyatt in for a celebratory hug as well.
After the excitement dies down, I bite my lip and sigh, glancing at the removal truck and then at Chessy. “So, are you ready for this?”
Her face falls. The topic of Chessy moving to New York has been the elephant in the room for the past few months. But now the school year is almost here, there’s no more hiding from it.
“Come on.” I link my arm with hers and we head into the house to deal with her stuff.
“Well, that’s the last box,” Wyatt announces, huffing as he staggers in through the door to Chessy’s apartment and sets his burden on the floor.
Chessy and I look around at the towers of boxes, most of them empty from the day we’ve spent unpacking them. The apartment is a tiny one bed with a small living area and kitchen. But it has a beautiful view of a park and it’s in one of the nicest parts of the city.
Chessy takes out her bright pink blanket and white bunny slippers from a box and gives them a squeeze like she’s greeting old friends. The thought of her living all alone in the Big Apple scares me a little. My sweet, innocent baby sister… It's like dropping her off at college all over again.
“Well, you’ve got a nice place here,” I say, keeping my voice bright.
“It’s charming!” Leila walks in through the open door holding a dish of her homemade chicken and mushroom casserole. Her bump is huge now. Blaze swaggers in behind her, and the tiny room is now filled with five adults. The room feels cramped, but Chessy just looks at all of us misty-eyed.
“Thank you so much, everyone, you’ve all been amazing.”
Leila and Blaze head into the kitchen to stack plates and cups in the cupboards. Wyatt and I start collapsing boxes near the open door. As Wyatt stoops down, something drops to the floor.
Before he can pick it up, eagle-eyed Chessy snatches it instead. “Wyatt, you dropped this! Wait! Is this what it looks like?”
Wyatt’s face turns beet red and I look from him to Chessy with a frown.
“Chessy! Give that back to Wyatt,” I whisper. Chessy hands the little black box over with an unapologetic grin. Leila and Blaze’s face pop out from the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” Blaze asks.
Wyatt clears his throat and stares at the box in his hand. “I was going to wait until dinner.”
“Wait for what?” Chessy asks with unnecessary drama.
My heart rate picks up.
Wyatt looks at everyone, and then motions for me to follow him into the hall. He closes the door, but I just know Chessy has her ear pressed up against it.
Wyatt lowers himself to one knee and I start wringing my hands.
“Lucy Scott, will you marry me?”
There’s no grace or elegance to this moment. But if he was going to do this at dinner, in a crowded restaurant with everyone looking, I’m glad it turned out this way instead. I always thought this type of question would require a great deal of thought and soul searching. But seeing Wyatt with this sweet diamond ring, looking up at me like that with those twinkling eyes, I feel like I’ll never be more certain of my answer than in this moment right now.
“Of course I will,” I say, giving him a sly grin. “Now stand up before you hurt your knee.”
Wyatt places the ring on my finger and I rise on tip toes to meet his lips for a tender kiss. It’s all so… natural. Wyatt wraps his arms around me and I press my head against his chest, closing my eyes with a smile. Everything is falling into place.
We’re both lost in the intimate moment when Chessy flings her apartment door open and my sisters and Bl
aze stand clapping and cheering at us like we’ve been on show the whole time.
“I can’t believe this! How exciting!” Chessy shouts at the top of her lungs. Then the door on the opposite side of the hall opens with a bang and a short stocky man, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, emerges from his apartment. His dark hair is tousled, and his eyes are dark and deep set. If I had to guess his job, I would say he was a Tom Cruise doppelganger.
“Can you please keep the noise down,” he says in a deep raspy voice.
Chessy’s cheeks redden and her eyes travel up and down his body as she ventures into the hall. “Hi there. I’m Chessy, your new neighbor!” She holds out her hand, but it hovers awkwardly in the air as the man scowls at her, unimpressed.
“Like I said... Can you keep the noise down? Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Chessy lowers her hand, clearly taken aback by the rudeness of her neighbor. “It’s two in the afternoon!”
I can tell by the tone of her voice and the sharpness in her eyes that she’s not happy about the fact that her cute neighbor has not immediately fallen to his knees. “And is that how you greet all your new neighbors? With contempt?” she asks, crossing her arms. Wyatt and I look from Chessy to the guy next door like we’re watching a game of tennis.
“No. Just you,” the guy says, crossing his arms too. I can’t help but grin. The guy looks like a Hollywood movie star, and he’s short––which is totally Chessy’s type. Yet, he seems completely uninterested in her. That’s new.
Chessy suddenly plants a smile on her face and twirls her hair in her fingers, walking up to him in a sultry way. I raise my brows, watching my baby sister try and fail to flirt with this guy. “I think we started off on the wrong foot. I’m Chessy, your new neighbor. I’m sorry for disturbing your nap.” She holds out her hand again, and flutters her lashes at him.
“I appreciate the apology,” the guy says, but he doesn’t take her hand.
Chessy leans even closer, her smile widening. “Are you not going to tell me your name, or am I going to have to call you neighbor forever?”