Chapter Seventeen #3
He gives me an unimpressed look as he turns toward me, heading into the living room with two water bottles. Once one is shoved into my hand, he stands before me, hip cocked.
“My problem?” he repeats. “Are you pretending not to know, or do I have to reevaluate how well you know me?”
“Don’t get sassy with me. I’m assuming you’re mad that I danced with Kelly. Is it because she was my first kiss?”
Everett scoffs. “Hardly.”
A mischievous grin morphs my lips, and I attempt to stand on shaky legs as I say, “Mhm. Sure. I know you’re angry it wasn’t you. That Kelly got to me first.”
I’m poking the bear—I know this—but it’s just so fun! Plus, I refuse to admit that I’m confused about what exactly is bothering him tonight.
“She didn’t ‘get to you first,’” Everett sneers. “I got to you first. I’m the only one who has seen you so vulnerable.”
Well, when he puts it like that…. Yeah. I’m horny.
“So, what is it then?” I ask, shoving the desperate need that’s suddenly burning inside of me to the back of my brain.
“I just… Why are you acting like I’m some dirty secret? Are you embarrassed to be with me?” His expression shifts from irritated to sorrowful, and I try to keep up with the switch.
Because what? Embarrassed? Everett is one of the most sought-after men on campus, and one of the best people I know, so why would I hide him?
He’s not making any sense, and my brain is having a hard time trying to keep up.
“What does that even mean?” I mumble.
“You wouldn’t dance with me. Hell, you wouldn’t even touch me.” He crosses his arms, his glare returning. “What was that about? Was Jacob there?”
“I… I don’t know,” I reply, tumbling further into confusion rather than anger. “Why would he affect what I do? What… What’s happening right now?”
I can see it the moment Everett registers my own displacement. How I’m struggling to keep up with him or understand this situation.
His face softens, his hands reaching out to grip my shoulders. “Alright. Let me ask you one straightforward question: Are you keeping us a secret?”
“Uh…” My eyes dart around the living room, anticipating a trick in his words. “Well, yes.”
Everett’s fingers tighten against my skin, his eyes narrowing. “And why is that?”
“What?” Now I’m very confused. “Because we have to? Because it became clear at the beginning of this that if our relationship got back to your dad, it would mean bad things for you.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “But my dad wasn’t at that party.”
“But your dad is friends with a lot of the families our classmates belong to.”
Realization dawns on him. His hands lose their grip on my shoulders, his eyes widening.
“Oh. So you… So your issue is my safety, then,” he asks quietly.
I roll my eyes. “Um, duh? I mean, if I had it my way, I’d be allowed to touch you whenever I like. It’s honestly kind of irritating, but I can deal with it. For now, at least.”
Everett smiles, and it’s so blinding that I nearly have to squint. A moment later, I’m wrapped up in his arms, his face shoved into my neck.
“My sweet puppy,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I was so rude. I just got nervous, you know?”
“Why?” I ask, my brain slowly starting its descent into its non-functioning mode. “You know I love you.”
Everett freezes, his arms locking even tighter around me. “You… love me?”
He sounds so awed, so unsure, that I laugh. I laugh hard, because of course I do!
“Obviously. You’ve always known that,” I tell him.
“I knew you loved me, sure. But are you… This time, are you saying that you’re in love with me?”
Oh. Those are two different things, right?
I’ve never been in love before, but some part of me is sure that I am now.
The perpetual need to be with him constantly, familiarizing myself with him in every way to the point of viewing him as an extension of myself, and craving his touch and his exclusivity?
All of those things indicate being in love, don’t they?
If this isn’t true love, then I have no desire to search for it. I am happy where I am, thank you.
“Yeah,” I confess softly. “In love.”
“Oh my god,” he breathes out, lifting his head from my neck to stare at me with wide, affectionate eyes. “Remind me to ask again once you’re sober.”
I cackle, swaying in his hold. “Do you think sober me will be mad that I told you?”
Everett grins. “Probably.”
And I think he’s right. Sober me hates how vulnerable I can become around him—how I’m slowly transforming from the independent, cocky guy I was before we started this thing and into something soft and pliable. But, in truth, sober me also likes it, too.
“Well, I can worry about that tomorrow,” I say. “For now, take me to bed.”
In an instant, Everett’s eyes heat. He pulls me flush against his body, feeling the length of me align with the length of him.
“Tell me again. Once I have you in bed and you’re begging for more, tell me again,” he demands.
And as the late night fades into early morning, I do. I tell him over and over again, “I love you, I love you,” until I’m covered in come and he’s crying into my neck, holding me so tightly I doubt I’ll ever free myself from his arms.
And thank god for that.