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I groan, because I can’t even.
“I didn’t come to talk about ad campaigns,” he says softly as he eases away. “Be my girlfriend. Meet my parents. Come to my games. Spend your weekends with me.”
My heart bursts. He feels it—he wants what I want.
“Kiss me,” I demand.
Our lips meet, and his are lazy and soft. His kisses are always like this…as if we have all the time in the world. We make out gently. Our clothing stays on. And it still feels incredibly intimate. I have no idea how he satisfies me with softness rather than quick and dirty couplings.
I don’t have the urge to speed things up. Maybe it’s because I have no reason to stay detached. He is mine. And I am his.
I thread my fingers through his hair, and then I remember—he’s injured.
“Your concussion.”
He laughs softly. “I’m fine.”
I pull back. I did some research between patients. “No exercise, right? We should stop.”
“We can kiss. It’s okay.”
“Are you sure? You’re not an expert on concussions, are you?”
“I’m not. But the neurologist said I should listen to my body. I don’t have a headache. I don’t feel dizzy. I’m okay.”
I don’t move to kiss him again. Instead, I tuck my head into his neck and we hold onto each other.
“We should order something for dinner,” I whisper when I realize how dark it’s gotten outside.
“Whatever you want,” he responds, nipping at my ear.
“Dinner and then sleep,” I say.
There’s a lot for us to figure out. We live on opposite coasts. He might not be in Sacramento beyond this year. I’ve finally found a fulfilling job. And he still hasn’t achieved the success he craves.
The future isn’t going to be easy, but it’ll be worth it.
EPILOGUE
ELLIE
Three months later
I’m not nervous when we pull up to my father’s house.
Well…maybe I’m a little nervous. I cling to Slater’s hand when he turns off the car.
“Should we get out?” he asks when I don’t move.
“I—umm—yes,” I stutter, but I still don’t let go of his hand.
Why am I acting like I’m about to be tortured?
Good question.
Maybe it’s because I’ve never introduced my family to any of my boyfriends?
I’m confident they’ll like Slater—especially my brothers—and I know I’m being irrational, but some part of me is worried that he’ll see me with them and realize what a mess we are. Even after months of trying, my brothers and I are still awkward. My father and I still mostly avoid the past. And Libby still doesn’t like me much.
