The Crush List

Chapter Twenty – This List of Ours

The morning sunlight filtered in through the gauzy bedroom curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the room. Emery stretched lazily under the covers, her muscles deliciously sore in the best way. Cal was already up—she heard the low hum of the printer from somewhere down the hall, a sound entirely out of place in the otherwise peaceful space they shared.

She slipped into one of his shirts and padded barefoot into the hallway.

“Cal?” she called out.

“In the bedroom,” he answered casually, and she followed the sound of his voice—only to freeze in the doorway.

There, pinned to the wall near their bed, was the list.

Printed in big, bold letters. Clean, framed like a vision board. Each completed item checked off in red ink, with little handwritten notes beside them in Cal’s scrawled handwriting.

✅ Make a friend for life – “Lianne. Your soul twin. And mine by default now.”

✅ Have a one-night stand with a lead singer – “Sorry Jace, she never forgot—but she chose me.”

✅ Kiss someone you just met – “We can laugh about this one now.”

✅ Kiss someone you shouldn’t – “Apparently, I was the 'shouldn’t.'”

✅ Get drunk and dance like no one’s watching – “You stole the show.”

✅ Skinny dip at a party – “You were the moonlight in that pool.”

✅ Fall headfirst in love — even if it ends in heartbreak – “Let’s never test the heartbreak part.”

✅ Go on a spontaneous trip without planning – “France. And you were magic.”

✅ Tell someone how you really feel, consequences be damned – “You fell. So did I.”

✅ Let someone see all of you — no walls, no pretending – “Every piece of you, Emery, is extraordinary.”

Her throat closed. “You kept this…”

Cal turned to face her, leaning one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, eyes soft but mischievous. “You made a promise to try. I made a promise to help. I thought it was time you saw just how far you’ve come.”

She stepped into the room, her bare feet brushing the hardwood, her heart thudding in her chest.

“You were never lost, Emery,” he said. “You just needed someone to remind you what you were capable of.”

She smiled, eyes bright with emotion. “You did more than remind me.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, voice playful. “What else did I do?”

“You made me believe again. In myself. In love.”

He crossed the room, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “You did that all on your own. I just got lucky enough to watch.”

After spending the afternoon tangled in each other’s arms and basking in the warmth of their quiet milestone, Emery and Cal drove down to her parents’ home just before sunset. The skies were streaked in hues of pink and gold, and the breeze that curled in through the rolled-down windows smelled faintly of salt and garden roses.

Emery was nervous at first. She always was—no matter how well things were going, the moment they crossed into her childhood neighborhood, old insecurities would start knocking.

But Cal reached across the console and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “They already love you,” he said with that crooked smirk. “And they’re used to me barging into their lives by now.”

Emery laughed softly. “Still feels surreal bringing you home like this.”

When they stepped into her parents' cozy, coastal house, the scent of her mother’s garlic and rosemary roasted chicken hit them like a hug. The dining table was already set, candles flickering in mismatched holders, wine breathing on the counter.

Her mom greeted Cal with a big smile and an even bigger hug. “It’s about time you came back for a real meal,” she said, batting at his shoulder.

“Only if I can take leftovers,” he joked.

Her father raised his wine glass toward Cal with a knowing glint in his eye. “Glad to have you back, son.”

The evening flowed with easy laughter, old stories, and her mom’s unmatched cooking. Cal fit in like he always had, but now there was something else—a quiet acknowledgment in every glance her parents gave them. They knew. They saw it.

When her mother passed Emery a bowl of roasted vegetables, she squeezed her hand briefly and whispered, “He looks at you like you're his whole world.”

Emery bit her lip and smiled into her wine glass.

After dinner, they all stayed seated long past the plates were cleared, just talking. The windows open, the ocean breeze drifting in, and the soft hum of conversation grounding Emery in everything that now felt like home.

Cal rested his hand on the back of her chair, his fingers occasionally brushing against her bare shoulder. She leaned into his touch, her heart full.

She was no longer the girl who didn’t know what to do with her life.

She was a woman who had taken a leap.

And tonight, surrounded by love and laughter and family, she knew she had landed exactly where she was meant to be.

Back at the mansion, the warmth of the family dinner still lingered around Emery like a blanket. She kicked off her heels near the door, sighing contentedly as Cal loosened the top buttons of his shirt. The lights were low, the silence between them comforting.

Cal sank onto the couch, scrolling through something on his tablet.

Emery padded across the room in her bare feet, then plucked the tablet right out of his hands.

He raised a brow. “Rude.”

She grinned. “Inspired.”

Sliding down beside him, she pulled up a blank note and began to type.

“What are you doing?” he asked, amused.

Emery rested her chin on his shoulder as she tapped away. “You printed my list to keep me on track. I think it’s time we had our list. You know—ten things to keep the romance and passion going. Can’t let things get boring now that I’m officially your live-in girlfriend.”

Cal’s brow arched, but he was grinning now. “You’re seriously making a list for us?”

“Absolutely,” she said, pretending to be focused. “I’m being proactive about our future.”

He chuckled, brushing his lips against her temple. “Alright, Miss Overachiever. Hit me with number one.”

She typed:

1. Make out like teenagers in public—somewhere we could get caught.

“Bold,” he murmured, eyes dancing.

2. Slow dance in our kitchen in the middle of the night.

3. Plan a weekend away where neither of us gets out of bed.

4. Take a couples cooking class and definitely ruin the recipe.

5. Surprise each other with secret dates.

6. Skinny dip in every ocean we visit.

7. Write each other a love letter and read it out loud.

8. Reenact a scene from one of your movies—roles reversed.

9. Buy something ridiculously impractical together.

10. Make love somewhere we’ve never dared to before.

Cal blinked as she finished typing. “Are you sure I’m the dangerous one in this relationship?”

Emery smirked, setting the tablet on the coffee table. “I’ve been learning from the best.”

He pulled her into his lap with ease, lips brushing hers. “Then I can’t wait to check off every single one.”

Her laughter melted into his kiss, the night folding in around them—soft, electric, full of promise.

Their first list had changed her life.

This one would shape their future.

Epilogue

One More Thing to Cross Off

The red carpet shimmered beneath her heels, cameras flashing, the sound of shouted names blending into a distant hum. Emery smiled graciously, posed where she was told, and let the spotlight fall on Cal—as it should. This was his night. His premiere. His big moment.

And still, somehow, his hand kept finding hers. His thumb stroked the back of her knuckles with grounding assurance, his gaze catching hers between every photo and handshake.

He looked devastating in his tux, that movie star glow turned all the way up. But she knew what was underneath—the soft shirt he wore at home, the sleepy grin he gave her in the mornings, the way he made her laugh until her stomach hurt, the way he held her like she was the only thing that mattered.

And tonight, under the glitter of Hollywood lights, she planned to cross off number one on their new list.

She tugged gently at his sleeve while the press attention shifted to another couple. “Come with me,” she whispered against his ear.

Cal’s eyes darkened with curiosity, but he followed her without question.

Down a private corridor behind the theater, tucked away from the crowd, Emery pressed him against a velvet-lined wall and stood on her toes.

“You look like a dream tonight,” she murmured. “And I’ve been dying to do this since we left the house.”

She kissed him like they were teenagers—eager and bold, hot and hungry. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she pressed herself close, letting the taste of him replace the nerves, the noise, the crowd.

Cal groaned into her mouth, hands gripping her waist. “What are you doing to me, Blake?”

She pulled back just enough to flash a mischievous smile.

“Crossing something off the list.”