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“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he says, amused, but he holds me close anyway, keeping me warm in the crisp late-fall air.

“Ridiculously cute?”

He yanks my knit hat down over my face. “Sometimes.”

“Hey!” I swat his hand away and readjust the hat. “Don’t make me send you back inside.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I might.”

“Not in a million years. You kinda sorta like me, remember?”

“Oh, whatever. You kinda sorta like me too.”

“Kinda. Sorta.” He pulls me into another kiss, but we keep this one brief, for Hoffman’s benefit. “This is gross, right? Do we make you as sick as we make me?”

“Sicker,” I admit. “But I still like us.”

“Me too.” He squeezes my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. “Hey, is that your car pulling up to the gate? Black SUV?”

“That’s them.” I hoist my duffel bag higher up, followed by my laptop bag. “If you wanna bolt in order to avoid a Meet the Parents scenario, you have about one minute.”

“Up to you.” He rubs a thumb over my jaw, and I melt into his palm. “You met Ted and Naomi. I can be charming for two minutes, if you want me to be.”

“Why do I have a feeling they wouldn’t come away from this conversation glowing about your social grace?”

“You’d be surprised,” he says with a smirk.

“You know, I do believe that.” His fingers are cold, but I take them anyway, and his strong arm curling me into his side more than makes up for the chill. “But given everything I already have to talk about with them, I’m gonna give you a pass. For now,” I add with narrowed eyes. “No promises come winter break.”

“Deal.” He rests his chin on my head. “Before you go, I just need to say something nauseatingly romantic, and then I need to retreat like a turtle into my shell for at least the length of Thanksgiving, butthenmaybe like an entire six weeks of winter.”

My stomach flutters gently in response. Forthcoming as he is with physical affection, verbally, “It’s cool that you don’t suck” is about as sweet as he gets. I’ve been waiting weeks for “nauseatingly romantic,” especially considering that’s a pretty good descriptor for how I feel about him. “You’re mixing up turtles and groundhogs, but okay, go ahead. I’m ready.”

He takes a breath and places his hands on my waist. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had that I also wanna make out with.”

I don’t know why I let myself get primed for actual romance, but somehow, I got fooled. “Thatwas your nauseatingly romantic goodbye sentiment?” I splutter. “God, you really had me for a second there.”

“That’s not romantic? To feel like being with you is the most comfortable thing in the world but also gives me butterflies? Dude, that’s romantic as fuck.”

“That… actually is pretty romantic,” I concede, “but it’s not what you said the first time.”

“Well, it’s what I’m saying,” he mumbles, tugging his beanie down until it nearly covers his eyes. “Okay?”

I pull him down for a kiss. “Okay.”

His gaze shifts to some point in the distance, as if the drying grass has somehow become the most fascinating thing in the universe. “You get that I’m saying I love you, right?”

Wrapping an arm around his waist, I close my eyes and rest my cheek against his beating heart. “Now I do,” I say, listening to the healthy thump as I feel my own race. “You did it, Grayson. That was officially romantic. Romantic enough for me to tell you that I love you, too, even.”

He grunts in response, but I feel another kiss ghost the top of my head before my parents pull up and he steps away. “Now get in the car, because that was embarrassing and I can’t look directly at you at least until we FaceTime in a few hours.”

“I thought it was six weeks, because you don’t know the difference between a turtle and a groundhog? Which is much more embarrassing, by the way.”

He groans. “I’d like to take everything back now.”

“Don’t you dare.” I rise on my toes one more time and curl my fists into his sweatshirt for a breath-stealing kiss. Hopefully my parents have better things to do than watch usin the rearview. “You’re my turtle-groundhog now, and in the animal kingdom, there are no take backs. It’s very vicious.”

“I have so many regrets,” he mutters, but the way he kisses me, cradling my jaw with strong, callused hands, it’s like he’s never had one in his life.

And maybe I have a few, and always will. But right now, as I get in the car and watch him fade away behind us, knowing he’ll be here when I return, I feel extremely good about my life choices.