He lets me hit him, his hands staying on my face as he closes his eyes. When they open again, they’re full of regret.
But it’s not enough.
“Let me go,” I manage, realizing the futility of it.
“Nope. Did that once.”
“And I meant what I said—I’m going to get over you, you big, scared jerk—”
His mouth stamps over mine, stopping my flow of words. He pulls back just slightly. “Don’t, Chloe. Don’t give up on me.”
His mouth lowers in again, softer this time, his lips melding with mine in soft, pleading kisses.
And I feel what he’s too afraid to say.
But it’s not enough.
I’m done settling.
My hands go to his shoulders. “Michael.”
He pulls back, looking so lost that I nearly break.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper. “My type of love is messy. I like public displays of affection, and dopey pet names, and hand holding and dramatic declarations, and all sorts of stuff you can’t give me.”
“Let me try.”
He moves all the way in, so that I’m full against the wall, his chest against mine. He’s taking up all my room, all my air, all my heart.
His fingers slide back into my hair, and I watch as his eyes follow his fingers as they tangle in my curls.
“Have I told you I love your hair like this?”
I swallow, confused at the shift. “Yes.”
His thumbs brush my cheeks. “Have I told you that I love you?”
I freeze, my hands on his shoulders digging in and holding on.
“No?” he asks softly, his lips going to my temple. “Because I do. I love that you make me laugh. I love that you made me talk to you. I love that no matter how many times I tried to kick you out of my life, you kept coming right back. The only one in my life that didn’t quit me. Even now, you shouldn’t be here. But you are.”
“Because I’m a doormat?” I say, my eyes closing as he kisses my eyelids.
He moves quickly, nipping my lip in scolding. “Stop killing the romance. You’re here because that’s how you love, Chloe. Full bore, nothing held back. And I don’t deserve it … but I want it. I want another chance, Chloe.”
He starts to kiss me, but pauses, millimeters from my mouth, making me wait. “Tell me I get another chance.”
I lean toward him, but he pulls back. “Tell me.” His voice is more urgent now, and my heart breaks for this guy who has so much love to give, and nobody to give it to.
I want it to be me. Risk and all.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He kisses me on a groan, his tongue sliding between my lips, his hands tilting my head back as he kisses me like a dying man.
“I love you,” he says when he pulls back, kissing my neck. “I love everything about you.”
“I get it,” I say on a little laugh, as his teeth nip me. “You love my hair.”
“And your hips. And your eyes. And your breasts … definitely your breasts, and your …”
A knock pounds near my head from the other side of the door and I jump forward into his arms. “What the—”
“Michael? It’s Stephanie.” Another quick pound at the door. “You there? Okay, I know you’re there. Anyway, I brought you Kleenex, in case it went badly. And condoms, in case it went well. Which do you want?”
We look at each other.
“Hello?” Stephanie calls. “I know you’re in there.”
Then there are muffled voices, and I hear a guy—must be Ethan—say in an accusing voice, “You said you had to go to the bathroom, Stephanie. And why the hell are you holding Trojans?”
I hear a thump, then a yelp, and I’m not entirely sure Stephanie didn’t just stomp on her boyfriend’s toe.
“I like her,” I whisper to Michael.
“You would,” he mutters back. “Stephanie, it’s Michael.”
“Oh, Mikey! Hi!”
He rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m good on the Kleenex. And the condoms.”
“Oh. Did she leave?”
“I’m here,” I call.
I hear an excited clapping noise.
“What is that?” Ethan asks. “What are you doing? It’s not a spectator sport. Would you come back to the bar?”
There’s silence, then more muffled noise, followed by two more voices.
“How’d it go?”
I recognize Olivia’s voice and slap a hand over my laugh to stifle the giggle when Michael leans forward and gently pounds his head against the door.
Then he opens it, just enough to stick his head out the door. “Guys. Thank you for coming. Let’s all grab dinner or drinks later. But for now …” he trails off meaningfully.
“Got it,” Ethan says. “Say no more. Stephanie, I swear to God—”
“Fine!” she says. Then a box of condoms comes sailing through the crack in the door over Michael’s head.
“Jesus,” he says, closing the door and leaning against it.
I smile and wind my arms around his waist. “I take it you guys are all friends again? Or something?”
“Or something,” he mutters.
“I’m glad,” I say, kissing his jaw. “As long as they don’t steal you back to New York.”
“I’m staying right here in Texas,” he says, linking his arms around my neck and pulling me in.
But it’s not enough.
“Let me go,” I manage, realizing the futility of it.
“Nope. Did that once.”
“And I meant what I said—I’m going to get over you, you big, scared jerk—”
His mouth stamps over mine, stopping my flow of words. He pulls back just slightly. “Don’t, Chloe. Don’t give up on me.”
His mouth lowers in again, softer this time, his lips melding with mine in soft, pleading kisses.
And I feel what he’s too afraid to say.
But it’s not enough.
I’m done settling.
My hands go to his shoulders. “Michael.”
He pulls back, looking so lost that I nearly break.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper. “My type of love is messy. I like public displays of affection, and dopey pet names, and hand holding and dramatic declarations, and all sorts of stuff you can’t give me.”
“Let me try.”
He moves all the way in, so that I’m full against the wall, his chest against mine. He’s taking up all my room, all my air, all my heart.
His fingers slide back into my hair, and I watch as his eyes follow his fingers as they tangle in my curls.
“Have I told you I love your hair like this?”
I swallow, confused at the shift. “Yes.”
His thumbs brush my cheeks. “Have I told you that I love you?”
I freeze, my hands on his shoulders digging in and holding on.
“No?” he asks softly, his lips going to my temple. “Because I do. I love that you make me laugh. I love that you made me talk to you. I love that no matter how many times I tried to kick you out of my life, you kept coming right back. The only one in my life that didn’t quit me. Even now, you shouldn’t be here. But you are.”
“Because I’m a doormat?” I say, my eyes closing as he kisses my eyelids.
He moves quickly, nipping my lip in scolding. “Stop killing the romance. You’re here because that’s how you love, Chloe. Full bore, nothing held back. And I don’t deserve it … but I want it. I want another chance, Chloe.”
He starts to kiss me, but pauses, millimeters from my mouth, making me wait. “Tell me I get another chance.”
I lean toward him, but he pulls back. “Tell me.” His voice is more urgent now, and my heart breaks for this guy who has so much love to give, and nobody to give it to.
I want it to be me. Risk and all.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He kisses me on a groan, his tongue sliding between my lips, his hands tilting my head back as he kisses me like a dying man.
“I love you,” he says when he pulls back, kissing my neck. “I love everything about you.”
“I get it,” I say on a little laugh, as his teeth nip me. “You love my hair.”
“And your hips. And your eyes. And your breasts … definitely your breasts, and your …”
A knock pounds near my head from the other side of the door and I jump forward into his arms. “What the—”
“Michael? It’s Stephanie.” Another quick pound at the door. “You there? Okay, I know you’re there. Anyway, I brought you Kleenex, in case it went badly. And condoms, in case it went well. Which do you want?”
We look at each other.
“Hello?” Stephanie calls. “I know you’re in there.”
Then there are muffled voices, and I hear a guy—must be Ethan—say in an accusing voice, “You said you had to go to the bathroom, Stephanie. And why the hell are you holding Trojans?”
I hear a thump, then a yelp, and I’m not entirely sure Stephanie didn’t just stomp on her boyfriend’s toe.
“I like her,” I whisper to Michael.
“You would,” he mutters back. “Stephanie, it’s Michael.”
“Oh, Mikey! Hi!”
He rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m good on the Kleenex. And the condoms.”
“Oh. Did she leave?”
“I’m here,” I call.
I hear an excited clapping noise.
“What is that?” Ethan asks. “What are you doing? It’s not a spectator sport. Would you come back to the bar?”
There’s silence, then more muffled noise, followed by two more voices.
“How’d it go?”
I recognize Olivia’s voice and slap a hand over my laugh to stifle the giggle when Michael leans forward and gently pounds his head against the door.
Then he opens it, just enough to stick his head out the door. “Guys. Thank you for coming. Let’s all grab dinner or drinks later. But for now …” he trails off meaningfully.
“Got it,” Ethan says. “Say no more. Stephanie, I swear to God—”
“Fine!” she says. Then a box of condoms comes sailing through the crack in the door over Michael’s head.
“Jesus,” he says, closing the door and leaning against it.
I smile and wind my arms around his waist. “I take it you guys are all friends again? Or something?”
“Or something,” he mutters.
“I’m glad,” I say, kissing his jaw. “As long as they don’t steal you back to New York.”
“I’m staying right here in Texas,” he says, linking his arms around my neck and pulling me in.
