Page 79 of Shots on Net

He steps up onto the front step and immediately leans forward for a kiss. Palming his hip, I pull him in and keep him there, enjoying the sun on my face and his lips warm against mine. He makes a small, happy noise and rises up on his tiptoes to deepen the contact. I’m probably going to die from the way this sends my nervous system firing.

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks, delighted. He’s grinning as he falls back on his heels, face tipped upward as he looks at me. I roll my eyes dramatically.

“No.”

Zeke snorts, putting a hand on my abdomen and gently pushing me backward so he can come inside and close the door.

“How was the library?”

“Good! What were you up to? Other than pining away for me.” He shoots a teasing look at me over his shoulder as he heads toward the kitchen, dropping his backpack on the floor by the stairwell on his way.

“Just the pining,” I say, as my fingers find the pocket of my shorts. “Hey, do you mind if I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, what’s up?” He asks, closing the refrigerator and looking at me. His smiles drops a couple octaves as he gets a good look at my face. I wonder if I look as strung out as I feel. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just want to talk to you. In here.” I point to the living room, directing him to have a seat in one of the chairs.

“Carter,” he says, carefully, but I wave a hand and shake my head.

“Just give me a second.” I pull the folded piece of paper out of my pocket. I’d thought I would just stand here and say what I want to say, but now that the moment has arrived, I’m feeling a little shaky. Compromising, I pull the coffee table over toward Zeke’s chair, and sit down on it so that I’m facing him. He stays quiet for all of a minute, watching as I unfold the notebook paper, before he can’t hold himself back any longer.

“What’s that?”

“Talking points,” I mumble, looking down at my suddenly illegible handwriting. I should have typed this. The paper has been folded and unfolded so many times, it’s worn and ragged. I have to hold it carefully, so as not to accidentally tear it down the middle with my trembling fingers.

“Right,” Zeke says, looking flummoxed.

“I’m going to start here,” I nod my head at some writing that he can’t see, “and I have to read it word for word so don’t interrupt, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, and knots his fingers together in his lap, like this will keep him from talking. I clear my throat. Here goes.

“I want you to know that this has been the best year of my life, and most of that is because of you. You remind me that life doesn’t have to be so serious all the time; you are always teaching me new things, and you make me laugh more than I’ve ever laughed before. I wish I’d posted an ad for a roommate years ago, because we might have met sooner.” Stopping, I clear my throat. I can’t look up at him, though, so I keep my eyes firmly on the paper. “Whenever I used to picture my future, it never included anybody else with me. Now, you’re the only part of my future that I’m certain of. I…”

Fuck me, I think, looking down and trying to discern my handwriting. My hands are full on shaking now and if I don’t get this out soon, I’m not going to make it through.

“I…sorry, I can’t read what I wrote… I just wanted to say that I don’t care about anything else that happens in the future, as long as you’re in it. Hockey, no hockey, I don’t care. I just want you.” I suck in a deep breath. This part I can read just fine. “And, I love you.”

I look up, now. Zeke is watching me, eyes wide and tender. He scoots to the end of his chair and leans forward, putting both hands on my knees and bringing our faces closer together. I breathe a very heavy sigh of relief. He doesn’t have to say it back—I can see it in his eyes and the soft, upward tilt of his mouth.

“I love you,” he says, and okay, so maybe I did need to hear it. My hands are really trembling now, the paper crinkling as I hold it aloft.

“I’m not quite finished,” I tell him.

“Okay,” he says, and rubs his hands across my legs.

“Just two more things. One, will you move in with me?” I look back up at him, already seeing confusion writ across his face. “I mean, like, for good. Today is the last day of school so I don’t know if you were planning on going back home or not…but I wanted to ask if you would want to live here, with me, and to also sleep in my bedroom. You know, not have separate bedrooms. Like we do now.”

Oh for the love of all that is holy, shut the fuck up Carter. I knew I should have written everything down that I wanted to say, word for word.

“Yes. Yes to all of that,” Zeke says, voice breaking slightly before he clears his throat.

“Okay. Thank god,” I respond and he laughs. Some of the tension breaks, and I smile at him, gratefully. “And the last thing was—.”

My phone rings, startling both of us. Scowling, I turn to look at the offending device. Are you fucking kidding me?

“Who is it?” Zeke asks, so I reach over and grab it. The name Joel Street flashes across the screen. Zeke inhales, sharply, and his hands tighten where they’re still on my legs. “Holy shit. Answer it.”