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I blew out a breath. “Anywhere? Nowhere? I don’t really care, Neil. I’m just happy to be here with you.” I lifted my shoulders, going with honesty. I was overflowing with it at the moment, and I was sure he could see it anyway.
He nodded with a slow swallow. “Yeah, me too,” he said. His voice was thick and laced with emotion—something that dug deep, but felt light and hopeful at the same time. And then he cleared his throat, breaking the moment into pieces until they fell away.
His lips hinted at a smile as his engine revved to life, and then we were off.
We drove around—aimlessly, quietly, heart silently battering against my ribcage.
I knew we’d eventually get to the conversation I was anxious to have, but every second slid by like molasses. Which, I guess I was kind of grateful for; I didn’t want to fast forward to later, when I’d have to leave Neil’s quiet space of solitude.
So, I could wait it out and wait for him to bring it up, purposely stretching out the time we’d have together. It didn’t feel like an avoidance. Just a quiet creep toward the inevitable.
Even if holding back my emotions felt like caging a wild animal.
We shared all the snacks in silence, driving from one side of town to the other and back again.
I couldn’t help but start to doubt everything, even if Neil had been nothing but soft smiles and kind eyes. Maybe the conversation I was hoping for wasn’t coming at all. Maybe it was an entirely different conversation he was bracing for.Maybe your morals are so screwed up that he can’t see himself getting back together after all. Maybe he—
The thought was obliterated, splintering into tiny fragments. Dust left in the wake of Neil’s hand slipping over mine. His fingers lacing through my fingers.
My heart sped up in my chest.
Neil was holding my hand.Duh.But Neil washolding my hand.I glanced up at him. His eyes were full of raw vulnerability, silently asking if this was okay. But of course it was okay.
It was more than fucking okay.
I smiled, squeezing his hand tighter in reply, feeling a million things settle into place between us. A million things I couldn’t name except for how right they felt.
“Can we talk about the things we want now?” he asked quietly, not waiting for a response before he barreled into his next question. “What doyouwant?” His features were pinched together adorably.
I could’ve been a smartass, I could’ve made him sweat it out, I could’ve done a hundred things but be completely truthful with him. But what would be the point? “I just want to be with you, Neil,” I admitted. “Whatever that means.”
A slow smile crept up his cheeks. “Yeah?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious.” I glanced down at our hands, at our entire situation and history fluttering in memories behind my eyelids. Ilovedhim. What more was there to say? (Besides the obvious.)
“I want to be with you, too,” he replied, and tiny, brand-new butterflies stirred to life in my stomach. I breathed out a laugh. I could kiss him; Iwantedto kiss him. “You were right, you know?” He sliced straight through my thoughts, dragging my attention back to his serious expression. “About my parents and their expectations of me. I know I can’t live up to themandbe happy.”
I swallowed. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me, and I couldn’t tell you if we were stopped in the middle of a busy street or on the side of the road orwherewe were at, at all.
“I’d rather have thehappy,” he said quietly.
I nodded, smiling. Brushing away the stinging pressure pushing at the back of my eyelids. I was proud of him. In a selfish way, and in a not so selfish way, too.
Good on him for figuring it out now, and not five or ten or twenty years down the road into his adulthood. I knew it couldn’t have been easy for him.
“I’m glad you feel that way. You deserve to be happy,” I told him. I shifted in my seat and glanced out the window. Turned out, we were parked along the curb just down the street from my house.
“Youmake me happy,” he responded, and my heart skipped a beat. “I like who I am when I’m with you.” And another.
“I like who you are when you’re with me, too, Neil,” I said quietly.
He chuckled, directing an amused stare my way. I wanted to trail my lips from one end of his smile to the other. But I smirked softly in response instead. “I like whoIam when I’m with you, too—for the record,” I said.
“I know.” He threw a smirk right back at me. Him and thatI know.I rolled my eyes playfully. I secretly loved it, almost as much as I loved him.
The reminder sobered me a bit, hanging over me like a raincloud threatening to spill all my secrets. It was terrifying, laying your heart out for someone else to take. “So now what?” I asked.
He pulled my hand to his chest. Right where his heart was. I didn’t think he had done it intentionally, but I felt it thudding fast beneath our hands, confessing secrets of his own.