Page 49 of Landing Liam

“Too late,” he teases, flashing that lopsided grin that could probably charm a nun.

I clutch a throw pillow, as if it’ll somehow shield me from the pull he has on me. “So, what’s next on our blizzard survival agenda? More snacks? Storytime? Or do we just stare awkwardly at each other until the power comes back on?”

He chuckles, moving to sit on the other end of the couch. The space feels simultaneously too close and not close enough. “How about we play a game?”

I arch a brow. “A game?”

“Yeah. Something simple. Like… twenty questions.”

I laugh softly. “You want to play twenty questions? What are we, in middle school?”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” he says, leaning back and draping one arm casually over the back of the couch. “It’s a classic. And besides, it’s a great way to get to know someone.”

“Fine,” I relent, mostly because I’m curious what he’ll ask. “You first.”

He strokes his chin dramatically, pretending to think. “Alright. What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”

I groan. “We’re starting strong, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Okay.” I chew on my lip, debating which story to share. “When I was in high school, I was so nervous before a big presentation that I tripped over the microphone cord and knocked the entire podium over. Papers everywhere. Total disaster.”

Liam bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but laugh with him. “That’s amazing. Wish I’d been there to see it.”

“Of course, you do,” I reply, tossing the pillow at him. He catches it easily, his grin never fading.

“Your turn,” he prompts.

“Alright.” I sit up a little straighter, feeling bold. “What’s your biggest regret?”

His smile falters for a moment, and something flickers in his eyes—something deep and unguarded. But he recovers quickly, leaning forward slightly. “Not taking enough time to enjoy the moments in between competitions. I’ve spent so much time chasing goals that I think I missed a lot of the little things.”

His answer catches me off guard, and my chest tightens unexpectedly. “That’s… honest,” I say softly.

“I try to be,” he replies, his voice equally soft.

The air between us shifts, becoming heavier, more charged. The game falls away, replaced by a silence that feels like it’s holding its breath. I realize I’m staring at him again, my gaze tracing the strong line of his jaw, the way the firelight dances in his brown eyes.

“What’s your favorite food?” Liam waggles his eyebrows at me.

“Italian,” I reply, though our eyes meet and no matter how hard I try, I can’t look away.

“Your turn,” he says.

I blink, breaking the spell. “What?”

“It’s your turn to ask a question,” he reminds me, though his tone suggests he’s not in a hurry for me to come up with one.

My mind blanks. The only thing I can think to ask is, Why do you make me feel like this? But instead, I say, “What’s something you’ve never told anyone before?”

His gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, I think he’s going to deflect or turn the question into a joke. But then, he leans in just a fraction, his expression unreadable. “That I’m terrified of what comes next.”

His honesty cuts right through me, and I don’t know what to say. But I don’t think he’s looking for words.

Before I can stop myself, I reach out, my fingers brushing against his hand where it rests on the couch. He glances down at the contact, then back up at me, and I see the same heat reflected in his eyes.

Neither of us moves for a moment, the room silent except for the crackling fire. And then, slowly, deliberately, he shifts closer, his warmth overwhelming, his presence magnetic.