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“Why are you here?” I ask, noticing my younger sister slipping from my hold with a small grin on her face.
“You had to know I wouldn’t let you go that easily,” he tells me, his hand reaching up to touch my face but falling back down before making contact.
“Please,” I tell him. “Just let me go.”
I’m too messy, too bitchy, too terrified.
“I can’t.” He looks around before his gaze settles on me again with a shrug. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” I ask, tilting my head to the right, waiting for a truth I may not deserve. A truth I’d likely fought all along.
He hadn’t taken the store from us, hadn’t enforced the contract, hadn’t even been in Cherry Cove for all I know.
He kept his word when he didn’t have to.
“You know why.”
“I don’t,” I prod, with a shake of my head. “You have to say it.”
He stays silent, and I rub at my back pockets, rocking on my heels.
“Truth or dare?” I whisper.
He looks up, his brows rising. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. Truth…or dare?” I smile. I can’t even fucking help the smile on my face.
He sets records with his ability to make me smile without even trying. No one else comes close.
“I love you,” he says. “I don’t need a game or a dare to tell you. I just needed to not be laughed at for saying it. Or have my feelings scoffed at like I’m some pubescent punk looking to get into your panties.”
“Do I scoff?” I ask, losing my balance a little when someone bumps into me.
He reaches out to steady me, and my laughter dies as I sigh into his touch.
“You do. And you laugh.” He gives me a piercing stare and I shrug, wanting to lick along the sharp edges of his jaw.
“I’m not sorry,” I confess. “This is me.”
“But I am. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like my whore,” he starts, his voice low as he glances around to make sure no one is listening.
I shake my head again and hold my hand up. “I let that guy get in my head. I let myself forget what we felt like.” I press my lips together before continuing. “I’m glad you punched him in the face. Violence is always the answer.”
He leans in, placing his hand on my lower back to press me closer to him. His warmth, his scent, it all envelopes me, welcoming me back to where I’ve longed to be.
“I will do whatever it takes to show you that I want more than just your body,” he tells me, his words quick as he stares down at my lips.
“Let me pay you back,” I offer, wondering how we somehow gotsoclose, his white T-shirt nearly touching the front of my polka dot top.
“How—”
“Shut up and let me pay you back.” I’m looking up into those green eyes of his, terrified to commit.
I could stay here and suffocate.
I could leave tomorrow and wonder about him, my travels ruined by regret.
Or, I could close my eyes and fall.
