Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
We arrive back at the conference room just a few minutes early and take our seats, the same ones as always—two rows behind and one seat over from Gabe.
There’s a piece of paper on the desk in front of my seat. It’s face down, but I’m positive it wasn’t there when we left for lunch. A quick glance at Preston’s desk tells me this is not a handout placed at each seat. I sit, pulling my chair in and getting comfortable before flipping the paper over. It’s a handwritten quiz—and it’s in Gabe’s handwriting. I grin, glancing in his direction. He’s turned to the front, Sawyer in the next seat leaning in to tell him something. I pick up a pen and read.
1) Is there anyone in this room you’d consider living with?
2) Who is it? (There’s only one correct answer here…)
3) On a scale of 1 to 5, how much closet space will you need?
4) Will you eat all the ice cream?
5) Yes or no, will you move in with me?
Oh, my God. He wants me to move in. He wants me to move in!
My heart is about to burst. I tap the pen against my smiling lips, then move it to the paper.
1) Yes.
2) You, silly.
3) 3.5
4) Probably.
5) Yes!!!
“Are you going to walk-of-shame that to him now or make him wait until the end of the day?” Preston asks, making no attempt to hide that he’s reading over my shoulder.
“I think I’ll walk-of-shame it over now,” I say, pushing my seat back and standing.
“Go get ‘em, hot stuff,” Preston whispers as I slide out of our row and take the three steps down to the front of the room. Gabe sees me right away, since he sits just two seats in from the aisle. His eyes move from the paper to my face and a slow grin tugs at his lips.
“Miss Adams?” Gabe questions, as if he has no idea why I’m here; Sawyer snorts at Gabe’s overly professional use of my name. I do forget why I’m there for a second. Gabe’s attention does that to me on occasion, but I snap out of it and smile, placing the paper face down in front of Gabe before returning to my seat.
From my chair, I watch him look at the paper, then fold it half and in half again before rising from the chair just enough to slip it into his back pocket. But unlike three months ago this time he turns slightly, catches my eye and winks.
I’m in love. This is what being in love feels like.