The Ten-Year Game Plan

Chapter 37- Josie

Donovan and I performed our scene for our theatre class with minimal embarrassment on both our parts. During one part of the scene, I forgot the words but Donovan quickly slid past it. One day maybe I would be used to his ability to fix things with such ease.

Even after the scene, while I was freaking out about my slip-up and the horrible grade I was inevitably going to get, he spent the entire car ride back to my apartment assuaging my fears and pointing out all the parts we crushed. His words helped me breathe a little easier. Plus, I had harder finals and the LSAT coming up that I needed to focus on instead of one potential bad grade.

"Shit," Donovan said, pulling into a parking spot. My head snapped up to look at him, eyes widening in concern.

"What? What's wrong?"

Donovan nodded to the man standing on the sidewalk, with his hands shoved into his coat and hair whipping in the wind. Shit.

"It's your dad."

Immediately, his hand wrapped around mine while I tried to gather my thoughts. What the hell was my dad doing outside of my apartment? It wasn't a holiday. We had no plans to meet. We hadn't even spoken since his wedding.

"Do you want me to..." Donovan hesitated as though he wasn't sure which options to give me. "What do you want? What do you need?"

His hand squeezed mine again and I looked down at it and then back up at those icy blue eyes. Somehow, they always seemed to be filled with warmth. Somehow, even with his thoughts and his heart occupied, he made space there for me. Every time.

"You," I finally said, "and I think it's what I always wanted. I just hate that it took me so long."

"That's not what I— I mean, okay?"

Donovan was taken aback by my random outburst, his body seeming to physically take the hit of my words. My father was waiting for me to say God knows what, but I also had something to say.

"Josie—" he began, but I wasn't finished. I reached for his hand and slid it against my cheek.

"I have more to say," I rushed out, talking about a mile a minute, "I am constantly in awe of you, Donovan Starr. And so very lucky that you waited ten years for me. Because if you hadn't, I'm not sure I'd ever be able to fill the space that you left. I want to do this with you— the hurt, the bullshit, yelling, crying, hitting walls— whatever. As long as you're there for the next ten years I promise I'll make the waiting worth it."

The words hung between us for a moment. Then his lips quirked up in the corner.

"Are you finished, Fish?"

"Oh! And also, I love you," I blurted out.

My breathless laugh was swallowed by his kiss, and I sank into it— into him. The way his fingertips gripped my jaw. The way wafts of fresh linen and spice wrapped around me. The way his tongue glided against mine as if they were rehearsing an old dance. I could sink into all of it and all of him.

He broke the kiss first, much to my dismay, and leaned his forehead against mine.

"Only you could say the three most important words as an afterthought and still make them sound damn good."

I grinned. "You always knew I was talented."

We sat for only a moment longer, letting the enormity—the vastness—of what we felt fill the spaces of silence in the car. One of those moments where I was sure that nobody could've ever felt this much for someone. Otherwise, how could they ever shut up about it?

Then, I made the mistake of glancing out the window. Oh. That's probably why. Life still existed outside the vastness.

"Your dad," Donovan released his grip on my chin and sank back into his chair.