37. Liam
37
LIAM
It’s the first week of May, and school’s finally out.
It’s warm enough to ditch a hoodie but not so hot that I’m melting under the sun. The park is quiet today. Quiet but alive, like everything’s waking up at once. Kids are laughing in the distance, birds are chirping in the trees. Birdie’s curled up next to me on the blanket, her head on my shoulder, and the smell of spring—fresh-cut grass, faintly sweet flowers—wraps around us.
I close my eyes for a second, letting the moment settle. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before. So content, so steady, like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“Do you think Warren ever takes a break from scowling?” I ask, cracking one eye open to glance at her. “Because I swear he’s been practicing it like it’s a sport lately.”
Birdie hums, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on my knee. “He might. But only when no one’s watching.”
I laugh because she’s not wrong. “I wonder if he’ll finally loosen up next year.”
We’d talked about it briefly—a quick exchange in the middle of unpacking finals stress—and decided to keep the same living arrangements for senior year. It wasn’t some huge, dramatic decision. It just made sense. Warren’s quirks are more than manageable, and I think I’ve started to grow on him, too. Slowly.
“You two are like an old married couple already.” She smiles up at me, and it does something to my chest, the way her face softens in the sunlight, her hair a little messy from the breeze. “Sena’s gonna drive me up the wall, too. Ever since I started inviting her to more things, she’s been talking about themed wine nights and a murder mystery dinner party.”
“You’ll survive the company.” I press a kiss to her temple. “And I’ll be close by to rescue you if she starts singing show tunes at two in the morning again.”
“Deal.” She cups my jaw, her thumb brushing lightly over the stubble I forgot to shave this morning. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Knowing what’s next.”
“It does. Because this time, I’ve got an unfair advantage.”
I’ve got a clear sense of direction now. Soccer preseason kicks off in a few weeks, and I’m more than ready—ready to push my limits and see how far this journey can go. The draft is looming in the back of my mind, but it doesn’t feel like an insurmountable obstacle anymore. It’s just the next step forward.
And Birdie’s a big part of why it feels manageable.
She raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You.”
Her cheeks flush, and she ducks her head, pretending to fix the edge of the blanket like I didn’t just make her all soft and flustered. I let her have a moment before I reach for her hand again, lacing our fingers together.
“I mean it. This year was strange, but you ... you make everything feel solid. Like I can handle whatever’s next.”
“Even if ‘whatever’s next’ is you getting drafted to some team on the other side of the country?”
“Yeah, even then,” I tell her earnestly. “Wherever I end up, I want you to be a part of it.”
She blinks, her lips parting like she wants to say something but isn’t sure how. I can see the wheels turning in her head, that little furrow between her brows that shows up when she’s overthinking.
“Birdie,” I say softly, giving her hand another squeeze. “We’ll make it work. No matter what.”
She lets out a breath, her shoulders relaxing like I’ve said exactly what she needed to hear. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I echo, grinning.
“Yeah, I’m easily convinced when it comes to you.”
I lean in, brushing my nose against hers before pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Good. You’re stuck with me.”
She rolls her eyes, but the way she tucks herself closer to me says she doesn’t mind. We sit there for a while, the sun dipping lower in the sky. Pink and gold and all sorts of perfect.
“What about you?” I ask after a while, my voice quieter now. “The gallery job, Claire’s studio—you think it will tide you over for the year?”
Her eyes light up. “Yeah. Claire already said she’d introduce me to some people who might want to show my work, so ... we’ll see. If I can sell a piece or two every few weeks, I should scrape by without dipping into my savings too much.”
“You’re gonna crush it.”
Her laugh is soft, disbelieving. “You always say that.”
“But human beings are fascinating. Like, why does Warren own a single pair of swim goggles for every day of the week? That’s a whole sociological study waiting to happen.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling, her cheeks pink again. “You’re goofy.”
“And you’re brilliant,” I counter, resting my cheek against the top of her head. “Perfect match.”
She settles against me, and I watch the way the light filters through the trees, the breeze rustling the leaves, and wonder how I got so lucky.
“Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it. “A whole lot. More than I thought was possible. Before I met you, I was in a rut. I was lost and drifting, and you turned my whole world around.”
I swallow hard, her words hitting me with all the force of a tidal wave. “Wow.”
She blushes, looking down. “I know. I didn’t think I’d be the one to say it first, but I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.”
I tilt her chin up gently and kiss her, slow and deep, letting everything I feel pour into the moment—the gratitude, the awe, the overwhelming certainty that she’s it for me. She’s my forever.
When we pull apart, her eyes search mine, and I murmur, “I love you, too. So much. I didn’t think someone like you existed until you came crashing into my life. But now, I can’t imagine it any other way.”
She wrinkles her nose, trying not to smile. “You’re the one who came crashing. You literally kicked a ball through the studio.”
“It’s a metaphor, baby. And whichever way you spin it, all I know is that I can’t picture doing life without you.”
Her laugh is quiet but radiant, her fingers threading through mine. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
And with her reassurance, I know we’ve got it figured out—whatever comes next, we’re facing it together. She’s the steady rhythm in the noise that drowns me, my matching Jellycat in a sea of worn-out plushies. My everything.