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The reality of our situation is: it’s complicated.

What lessens the complication for me, though, is the very sure and also terrifying sense I have that Naomi is it for me. She’s worth staying up late to text even if I’m dragging in the mornings. She’s worth sneaking kisses in a car because she still isn’t ready for Liam to know about us yet. I’m starting to long for a future where busy days won’t matter because we’ll share the same house, the same bed, and the same last name.

Naomi pulls away suddenly as a light goes on in the front window of her house. I see movement behind the curtains, the vague shape of a boy walking toward the kitchen.

“He’s going to see my car if he looks out the window,” I tell her, amused at the way she’s peeking over the dashboard.

“He knows you’re here, and I’m with you, but I don’t want him to see uskissing.”

When the light turns out a moment later, she relaxes again, but a thread of disquiet weaves through me. I slide my fingers over the steering wheel, tightening and then loosening my grip. Naomi hasn’t mentioned telling Liam about us yet, and I’m not quite sure I understand why.

I think of last summer and the way Liam’s face crumpled before he rode away on his bike.

Maybe I do understand.

“I should probably go in,” Naomi says, but the tone of her voice and the way she leans across the center console is saying something else.

“And I should probably go home.”

“Probably.”

“Probably.”

“Prob—”

I cut off her next word with another kiss, not even attempting to hold back any of the longing I’m feeling. Or even the frustration at knowing our time is almost up.

Naomi breaks off with no warning. “Wait, wait, wait. Hang on. I need a moment.”

She presses a hand to her throat, eyes darting around the car until her gaze lands heavily on me.

“What are we doing here?” she demands.

“I thought it was clear what we’re doing.” I smile and lean over to place a kiss on the corner of her mouth, willing it to lift in a smile. She doesn’t.

Instead, she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back against her car door. “Yeah, I know we’re kissing, Cam.”

Even in the dim light coming from a streetlamp outside, Naomi is so beautiful. It’s the fire in her eyes, her strength and resolve and the independence I’m chipping away at little by little as I carve out space in her life. She amazes me—who she is. How she’s taken care of herself and Liam for so long.

I want to give her rest. To be the one who shoulders some of the responsibility she’s carrying. Not because she can’t do it on her own, but because she deserves a little pampering. She deserves support and someone to take care of her for a change.

I want that someone to be me.

And I need to tell her.

I shake my head and drag my gaze from her kiss-swollen lips to her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about kissing.” I cup her cheeks in my palms and lean closer. “You want to know what we’re doing here? I thought it was obvious—I’m in love with you.”

The words slip out, but I’m not sorry. Even if I hadn’t meant to say them at a moment like this. Why not, I guess? These are the kinds of moments we have together. And the words are true. Idolove her. I think when realization dawned on me, it had already been true for a while.

She blinks rapidly, her face slack with shock.

And then she launches herself across the console and into my lap. The car horn blares before her mouth finds mine, and my seat is pushed too far up to pull her off the steering wheel and stop the noise.

Scrambling and desperate, she dives back across the car, elbowing me in the process. She hits her head as she ducks down below the dashboard, watching the house.

I’m torn between amusement and something a little edgier. Not annoyance, exactly. Betrayal feels a little too strong, but something more in that direction.

Stupid, I tell myself.You blurt out something like that and you expect her to have some perfect reaction?