This is the eleventh part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, and Part X before continuing.
I was in the library to meet some classmates for a study session when I saw a familiar-looking jacket draped over a pair of familiar-looking shoulders. I had to do a double-take before I could confirm it was, in fact, Owen. My boyfriend. The thought that he was my boyfriend now took me by surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise. The kind that comes with a feeling of accomplishment when you get what you’ve worked and schemed for weeks to get what you want.
I decided to sneak up on him. Hovering over his back, I was taking a peek at what he was working on when, without turning around, he said, “Hey, Keira.”
Having gone up on my tippy toes to see over his head, I dropped back down onto my heels at his words. I even pouted a little until I remembered he couldn’t see me because he still hadn’t turned around. “How’d you know it was me?”
“I just knew,” he said, finally turning around wearing that dreamy smile everyone gets when love is new. I allowed myself a smug smile of satisfaction at seeing my victory so clearly written all over his face. He would assume I was smiling for the same reason he was smiling. And besides, I always looked better when I was glowing with a sense of satisfaction.
“What are you up to?” I went back to leaning over him so I could get a look at his homework.
“French,” he said with a sigh.
“Ah! Oui, oui,” I said.
He looked askance. “Is that all the French you know?”
“Yep.”
“I guess I’ll do the translating when we go to France.”
I jerked back at this revelation, then recovered by gripping his shoulders and using them to pull myself even closer to him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ll do the translating when we go to France.”
“When are we going to France?”
“OK, if we go to France.” He took one of my hands in his and stroked it with a thumb. “But I would like to travel with you at some point.”
I blushed. “How about if we start by going to St. Louis together?”
“What’s in St. Louis?”
“My mom’s getting married.”
“Oh.”
The fact that he only said a single word — and that word was more like a letter — made me want to backtrack. “Is it too soon for the whole meet-the-parents thing? You’re the one who brought up traveling to Europe.”
He smiled again and lowered his eyelids as he got that dreamy look on his face again. “I’d love to meet your family.”
“Well, it’s really just my mom. And, I guess, my stepdad now.”
“I’d love to meet them,” he said again.
I smiled another smile of triumph, which, of course, he assumed was love. He pulled me to him and kissed me deep while I thought about how excited my mom would be to hear this had been so easy!
To be continued…