Page 99 of Never Forget

Naz wraps his arms around my neck.

“Ready?”

“No.”

Laughing, I plant one foot against the bottom of the seat for leverage and pull. At the same time, Naz gives an undignified wiggle that would be embarrassing under almost any other circumstances. At first, nothing happens, but then his hips clear the opening all at once, and the sudden shift in momentum sends him flying forward, knocking me back onto the leather bench. Naz lands on top of me hard enough to drive the air from my lungs.

For a moment neither of us moves as I wheeze, trying to catch my breath through my laughter.

He lifts his head just enough to look down at me. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.” I say, unable to keep my shoulders from shaking from laughter.

“You’re thinking it.”

“Oh, I’m thinking a lot of things right now,” I wheeze.

“Shut up, Cory!” Naz shouts over his shoulder. Only then do I hear Cory’s muffled laughter from the front.

The soft, mechanical whir of the partition being raised somehow makes it even funnier. Even Naz is laughing now.

After a few minutes, when we finally collect our composure, I shift so I’m leaning against the bench seat. Naz remains on top of me but shifts his weight so he’s straddling my lap.

“That was the fucking worst,” he says, and I know he’s not talking about his dumb idea to climb through the partition.

“You should take up acting. I wasn’t sure for a minute.”

Naz grips my chin and lowers his mouth to mine. He kisses me harshly, like he’s punishing me for not believing in him. But it’s not him I didn’t believe in, it’s me.

“You know I don’t think those things about you, right? I know you’d never hurt me, and that part about not wanting you…”

“That’s actually the part that gave me the tiniest bit of hope. It’s the only part that you looked me in the eye for, so I could see you didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t mean any of it. I just couldn’t look you in the eye and say those things. It hurt too much.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Maybe it makes me the worst kind of simp, but that acknowledgement is almost as good as him saying it back. I don’t need him to say it. I just need him to let me love him until he feels safe enough to let himself fall too.

Tightening my arms around him, I plaster him to my chest and squeeze as hard as I can without hurting him. In this moment, I just need to be as close to him as possible.

Naz wiggles to adjust, and I reluctantly loosen my arms, only for him to surprise me by knowing exactly what I need. He lifts both our shirts before pressing his chest to mine again and squeezing his arms to signal me to tighten mine again.

Skin to skin, it feels like I can breathe again for the first time. Like that cliché line that always makes me laugh in Naz’s books: I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I get it now.

After a while, the whir of the partition lowering breaks the silence. “ETA five minutes,” Cory tells us.

I squeeze Naz tighter. I’m not ready to let go of him.

“Hey,” he says, sitting up and staring directly into my eyes. If being skin to skin is like breath in my lungs, then the direct eye contact is reassurance for my soul. “The hard part is over. No matter what comes next, no matter what he says or whether any of this works at all, you have me, okay?”

You have me.

“Okay?”