“You could stand to get better.”
“Only for you, Jameson.”
“Only for me.”
“I do love you, you know,” she said softly. He nodded.
“I know, baby girl. I know,” he assured her.
“That doesn't scare you?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip. He still had the ability to make her so nervous. She figured she should just get used to it – she wasn't going anywhere.
“No,” he shook his head. “That doesn't scare me at all, not anymore.”
“What changed?” she asked, looking away from his soul-stealing stare and smoothing her hands across his chest.
“The game. You, me. Everything,” he told her. She cleared her throat.
“Jameson,” she started, then lost her nerve. She had been working up the courage to ask him something since their first night back together.
“Hmmm?” he replied, one of his fingers tracing along her bottom lip.
“What does the necklace mean, to you?” she squeaked out, feeling all of two inches tall.
“Excuse me?”
“The necklace. I mean, I know what it means. To me, I mean. But what does it mean, you know, to you,” she stammered.
“I'm not even sure what you just said, let alone what you're asking me,” he teased her. She rolled her eyes.
“It's okay, you know. You said you were willing to try, and that's all I'm asking for. I promise, this time. I really promise. It's more than I could have hoped for, really. We're together, and you don't need to -,” she babbled.
“Tatum. Are you asking me if I'm in love with you?” he asked, his voice serious. She swallowed thickly, staring at the collar of his shirt like it was hypnotizing her.
“Maybe,” she whispered.
“Don't be fucking stupid,” he snapped. She finally looked up at him, snorting.
“You're fucking stupid! I'm trying to be nice and tell you it's okay that you don't, that you don't have to feel bad, and you're such a dick, you always have to -,” she started telling him off, trying to wiggle out from underneath him. He put his hand over her mouth.
“Tatum.”
She blinked her eyes up at him.
“Hmmfff?” she mumbled.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Ho hmuck hurr helf,” she tried to swear through his palm.
“I have loved you since you were eighteen, you idiot.”
Her eyeballs nearly fell out of her head.
“Hreary!?”
“I can't understand what you're saying.”
She slapped at his chest. By the time he moved his hand, she had started crying.
“You're shitting me,” she sniffled.
“I never lie, Tatum,” he assured her. She pressed her hands against her face.
“You can't. You haven't ..., everything. So much time. Why didn't you say anything?” she cried. He pulled at her wrists.
“Because I didn't know,” he replied.
“How could you not know something like that!?” she demanded.
“Hey, look who's talking. You've probably been in love with me for even longer, and you still don't realize it,” he pointed out, finally peeling a hand away. She kept her eyes shut tight.
“God, sometimes I hate you,” she cried. He laughed.
“I finally say the words, and this is the response I get,” he chuckled, pulling at her other hand.
“Well you can't just spring it on me like this!” she yelled at him, finally looking up at him. He looked down at her like she was nuts.
“You asked me, you crazy bitch,” he laughed.
“Well, I didn't expect that answer, you crazy bitch!” she yelled back.
“Would you like me to take it back?” he offered.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and yanked him close. She needed him to breathe. To exist. So much. She struggled with him, wrestled around till she was able to roll him underneath her, then she straddled his hips, pulling him to sit upright with her.
“I never want you take it back,” she whispered, pulling her shirt over her head.
“Good. Because I'm not in the habit of taking things back,” he replied, unbuttoning his own shirt and tossing it into the front seat.
“I want you to say it again,” she breathed, leaning forward and kissing his jaw. His ear. His shoulder.
“Hmmm, can't have you getting accustomed to such things. You have to work for praise, baby girl,” he teased.
“Please,” she pleaded.
“Begging again. I'm on a roll today.”
“Please.”
“I don't know. I am Satan. Saying those sweet words actually burns me,” he warned her. She shook her head.
“You love to burn. You've already burned me. Do it again,” she whispered. He pushed her away. Smoothed his hands over her hair, then rested them against the sides of her neck. Looked at her. Really looked at her.
“Tatum O'Shea, there is a very distinct possibility that I have been in love with you since the first time I saw you,” he told her, his voice quiet. She laughed, wiped at her nose, and then laughed again.
“God, how awkward for Ellie. Better leave that out of the wedding vows,” she joked. He groaned.
“Jesus. I'm just getting used to the L-word, don't go throwing around the M-word,” he warned her. She leaned close, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue.
“Only for you, Jameson.”
“Only for me.”
“I do love you, you know,” she said softly. He nodded.
“I know, baby girl. I know,” he assured her.
“That doesn't scare you?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip. He still had the ability to make her so nervous. She figured she should just get used to it – she wasn't going anywhere.
“No,” he shook his head. “That doesn't scare me at all, not anymore.”
“What changed?” she asked, looking away from his soul-stealing stare and smoothing her hands across his chest.
“The game. You, me. Everything,” he told her. She cleared her throat.
“Jameson,” she started, then lost her nerve. She had been working up the courage to ask him something since their first night back together.
“Hmmm?” he replied, one of his fingers tracing along her bottom lip.
“What does the necklace mean, to you?” she squeaked out, feeling all of two inches tall.
“Excuse me?”
“The necklace. I mean, I know what it means. To me, I mean. But what does it mean, you know, to you,” she stammered.
“I'm not even sure what you just said, let alone what you're asking me,” he teased her. She rolled her eyes.
“It's okay, you know. You said you were willing to try, and that's all I'm asking for. I promise, this time. I really promise. It's more than I could have hoped for, really. We're together, and you don't need to -,” she babbled.
“Tatum. Are you asking me if I'm in love with you?” he asked, his voice serious. She swallowed thickly, staring at the collar of his shirt like it was hypnotizing her.
“Maybe,” she whispered.
“Don't be fucking stupid,” he snapped. She finally looked up at him, snorting.
“You're fucking stupid! I'm trying to be nice and tell you it's okay that you don't, that you don't have to feel bad, and you're such a dick, you always have to -,” she started telling him off, trying to wiggle out from underneath him. He put his hand over her mouth.
“Tatum.”
She blinked her eyes up at him.
“Hmmfff?” she mumbled.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Ho hmuck hurr helf,” she tried to swear through his palm.
“I have loved you since you were eighteen, you idiot.”
Her eyeballs nearly fell out of her head.
“Hreary!?”
“I can't understand what you're saying.”
She slapped at his chest. By the time he moved his hand, she had started crying.
“You're shitting me,” she sniffled.
“I never lie, Tatum,” he assured her. She pressed her hands against her face.
“You can't. You haven't ..., everything. So much time. Why didn't you say anything?” she cried. He pulled at her wrists.
“Because I didn't know,” he replied.
“How could you not know something like that!?” she demanded.
“Hey, look who's talking. You've probably been in love with me for even longer, and you still don't realize it,” he pointed out, finally peeling a hand away. She kept her eyes shut tight.
“God, sometimes I hate you,” she cried. He laughed.
“I finally say the words, and this is the response I get,” he chuckled, pulling at her other hand.
“Well you can't just spring it on me like this!” she yelled at him, finally looking up at him. He looked down at her like she was nuts.
“You asked me, you crazy bitch,” he laughed.
“Well, I didn't expect that answer, you crazy bitch!” she yelled back.
“Would you like me to take it back?” he offered.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and yanked him close. She needed him to breathe. To exist. So much. She struggled with him, wrestled around till she was able to roll him underneath her, then she straddled his hips, pulling him to sit upright with her.
“I never want you take it back,” she whispered, pulling her shirt over her head.
“Good. Because I'm not in the habit of taking things back,” he replied, unbuttoning his own shirt and tossing it into the front seat.
“I want you to say it again,” she breathed, leaning forward and kissing his jaw. His ear. His shoulder.
“Hmmm, can't have you getting accustomed to such things. You have to work for praise, baby girl,” he teased.
“Please,” she pleaded.
“Begging again. I'm on a roll today.”
“Please.”
“I don't know. I am Satan. Saying those sweet words actually burns me,” he warned her. She shook her head.
“You love to burn. You've already burned me. Do it again,” she whispered. He pushed her away. Smoothed his hands over her hair, then rested them against the sides of her neck. Looked at her. Really looked at her.
“Tatum O'Shea, there is a very distinct possibility that I have been in love with you since the first time I saw you,” he told her, his voice quiet. She laughed, wiped at her nose, and then laughed again.
“God, how awkward for Ellie. Better leave that out of the wedding vows,” she joked. He groaned.
“Jesus. I'm just getting used to the L-word, don't go throwing around the M-word,” he warned her. She leaned close, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue.
