The do over, p.22
The Do-Over, page 22
“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
PLAYLIST
1. Lover (Remix) [feat. Shawn Mendes] | Taylor Swift, Shawn Mendes
2. Let’s Fall in Love for the Night | FINNEAS
3. coney island (feat. The National) | Taylor Swift, The National
4. New Romantics | Taylor Swift
5. betty | Taylor Swift
6. Play with Fire (feat. Yacht Money) | Sam Tinnesz, Yacht Money
7. …Ready For It? | Taylor Swift
8. The Passenger | Volbeat
9. Street Lightning | The Summer Set
10. Sabotage | Beastie Boys
11. Nervous | Shawn Mendes
12. the last great american dynasty | Taylor Swift
13. Ghost Of You | 5 Seconds of Summer
14. fuck, I’m lonely (with Anne-Marie) | Lauv, Anne-Marie
15. Lose Yourself | Eminem
16. Amnesia | 5 Seconds of Summer
17. fOol fOr YoU | ZAYN
18. So Damn Into You | Vlad Holiday
19. I Don’t Miss You at All | FINNEAS
20. Forgot About Dre | Dr. Dre, Eminem
21. gold rush | Taylor Swift
22. Everything Has Changed (feat. Ed Sheeran) (Taylor’s Version) | Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran
23. Driving in the City | Brandon Mig
24. The Joker And The Queen (feat. Taylor Swift) | Ed Sheeran, Taylor Swift
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4gex4YF0tYiPSuhID55dEY
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank YOU, delightful reader, for picking up this book. You’ve affected my life in an incredible way, playing an integral part in my dream come true, and I’m eternally grateful.
Thanks to Kim Lionetti, my incredible agent, for giving me a dream career that you constantly make better. You are more than I ever knew I needed.
Jessi Smith, my editor—the vision you have for books is nothing short of remarkable, and I’m so lucky to have worked with you. You make my thoughts and words SO. MUCH. BETTER, and I’m BEYOND thankful for your expertise.
To all the talented folks at SSBFYR and S&S Canada—Marketing and Digital Marketing, Publicity, Sales, Education & Library, Subsidiary Rights, Production, Supply Chain—thank you so much for the incredible work you’ve done on this book. Liz Casal and Sarah Creech—thank you for another swoony cover that I love so much. Morgan York and Sara Berko—thank you for overseeing the nuts and bolts of the process and making sure the story became an actual book!
Thank you to my Berklete friends for letting me join your gang and hang out with you all the time (aka group chat). You’ve made the highs higher and the lows less low, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.
Thanks to all the Bookstagrammers, TikTokkers, YouTubers, and bloggers; you’re out here doing incredible work for zero compensation, and I’m really not sure what we’ve done to deserve you. You are talented, amazing creators, and I cannot thank you enough for every single thing that you do in the name of books. Haley Pham, I adore you and your delightful followers.
Lori Anderjaska—you’re the coolest badass in SW Omaha; thank you for being my 402 editor and for lending me your children’s names.
Also—thanks to Taylor Swift, for writing songs that feel like books.
And the fam:
Mom—you’re amazing and I love you more than words. I wouldn’t have THIS without you.
Dad—I miss you every day.
Cass, Ty, Matt, Joey and Kate—thank you for being incredible human beings who make me proud and crack me up. I think you’re all super cool, but that’s probably just because I built you.
AND KEVIN:
Thank you for accepting that my happy place is often alone in a room with my computer. Thank you for accepting that I suck at the domestic arts, and that I only bring six recipes to this relationship (I still can’t believe that number). Every love interest I write is inspired by you, because every love interest should be thoughtful, respectful, sarcastic, kind, and really freaking hilarious. You are by far my favorite human, and I don’t deserve you.
More from the Author
Better Than the Movies
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LYNN PAINTER writes romantic comedies for both teens and adults. She is the author of Better Than the Movies and Mr. Wrong Number, and she is a regular contributor to the Omaha World-Herald. She lives in Nebraska with her husband and pack of wild children, and when she isn’t reading or writing, odds are good she’s guzzling energy drinks and watching rom-coms. You can find her at LynnPainter.com, on Instagram @LynnPainterKirkle, or on Twitter @LAPainter.
Visit us at simonandschuster.com/teen
www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Lynn-Painter
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
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Also by Lynn Painter
Better Than the Movies
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Painter, Lynn, author.
Title: The do-over / Lynn Painter.
Description: First edition. | New York : Simon & Schuster BFYR, [2022] |
