Being with Zane turned out to be way less awkward than I'd feared. We knew each other too well to even fight properly.
We saw each other once a week, and I liked to audit him. "Phone. Hand it over. Let's see if you've actually been training."
Zane surrendered it like a model citizen. I scrolled through his workout log. Rings closed, every day. And then—fine, my curiosity got the better of me—I peeked at his messages.
Everyone says long-distance doesn't last. Some guys will text you their schedule all day and text somebody else sweet nothings at night. Zane's friend list had maybe thirty people on it, and my chat sat pinned at the very top.
He leaned in out of nowhere. "Zo, am I being good?"
Face of stone, I locked the phone and handed it back.
"And do I get a reward for it?"
I covered my mouth and glared. "Again?!"
After the nosebleed incident, I never let Zane kiss me quite that recklessly again. He could tell I was guarding myself, so he just laughed and pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.
"I want to travel somewhere. Just us two. You've always wanted to see snow mountains, haven't you?"
I had told him—once—about wanting to watch the sun come up over the peaks, the sky and the snow blurring into one color. But it was always something. No time. No money. Always a reason, always next year.
Zane sat up straight. "My project just cleared its bonus. Ten grand—it's all yours. Let's go."
He watched me go quiet, and read it as a no. His voice went soft.
"Zo, other than school field trips, we've never once traveled together. You know that?"
...He had a point. When we were little, Mom was always working, so she'd dump me at Zane's place. Grandma Carter watched us like we were made of glass—wouldn't let us out of the complex. The first real trip of my life was with him, and we were already in school by then.
My resistance crumbled. "So... book the tickets?"
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