Unexpectedly You by Mia Josephs, Riley Janes

think about just sitting around waiting for things in my life to fall into place. I have to plan for it. I have to find out how to achieve what and which way to achieve it, and use trial and error to come to the specific conclusion on every single goal I want in life. It eats at me. I need to find the perfect way to accomplish this thing and that thing and whatever thing...”
    “Whoa there,” Nate says, reaching over and squeezing my knee. I had no idea how tense I’d become, how fast I started talking. His fingers on my bare skin do something funny to my stomach. Like he loosened it, then tightened it in a whole different way. After a few seconds, I calm down enough he takes his hand from my knee and puts it back on the wheel. “There’s that word. Perfect . Why be perfect, Brooke? Some of the greatest things in life are great because of the imperfections .”
    I blink a few times, then drop my gaze to my abandoned knee. It’s a good question, and I know the answer, but I’m not sure I’m willing to give all of it to him. I look at the trash bag full of our impromptu dessert, eye my shoes I slipped off the moment I got in the car with him, and remember the way he made my feet feel like they were on clouds of heaven when he rubbed them. This is Nate. My friend .
    “There are about five or six things on my to-do list that I’ve never been able to check off. And I’ve been dying to.”
    “Oh? What are they?”
    A smile forces itself on my lips , and I shake my head. “Nope, not going to tell you.”
    “Oh come on. You can’t expect me not to poke at that hive.”
    I shake my head again, teasing him.
    He turns onto another road that takes us up and up and up. “I could just look in your phone.”
    “You touch my phone, you die.”
    We both laugh, and he loses patience. “Just tell me one. That’s it. Just one.”
    I let that mull over till we get to the top of the hill, and he parks the car at a roadside stop. The lights from the city keep things pretty well-lit, even from this far away.
    I bend down and reach for my shoes. “Your mom won’t mind if I sit on the hood, right?”
    He shakes his head and unbuckles. “No, but you better not climb up there with those heels on.”
    “Right.” I li ft a finger then bend to my bag. I dig nice and calm for about three seconds, then go all out frantic. “Seriously, Brooke?” I scold myself. “You forgot your flip flops?” This never happens. I’m so on my game most of the time, I can’t believe I didn’t think to grab them. I dig some more, but Nate stops me with his hand. Raising a questioning eyebrow, I watch him open his door and cross to my side. He leans over me, unbuckles my belt, and before I can even reach up to do that top button, he grabs my waist and hoists me out of the car like I’m a two-year-old.
    “Nate!” I yelp, then slap a hand over my mouth since it echoes around us about ten times louder than it came out. He chuckles and walks me quickly but carefully to the hood of the car. I don’t notice till he inches me over and settles in next to me, leaving about a foot of distance between us, how flushed I am.
    “Okay, one thing from your to-do list,” he says, like he totally didn’t just manhandle me.
    “Fine.” I hold up a finger. “One thing.”
    He sits back, a triumphant grin on his actually well-groomed face—for today—and it makes me almost take it back. Almost.
    “There are four words I’ve want ed my parents to say to me. Four words, and I still haven’t been able to make it happen.”
    Nate’s grin falls a little , and he leans toward me. “And they are…?”
    I try to smile as I say them. “ I’m proud of you. ”
    It seems to cut our teasing air right out of the conversation, and I hate that, because I didn’t want to get too deep. So I force out a laugh and say, “I think I’m getting close on that one.”
    It takes him a minute to respond, but when he does, it sounds like his laugh is forced too. “You