Page 206 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

He frowns. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t see the bruise. Weird.”

He catches on instantly.

“That’s how it’s going to be, huh?” He tickles me until I’m squirming like a worm in his arms.

“I’m kidding!” I laugh a breathless laugh.

“I didn’t hit my head, smart-ass.” He stops his tickling.

“So… hypothetically speaking, you’d be okay with me being pregnant?”

He stops to think about it. “Hypothetically speaking, I want to marry your ass and have babies with you. How’s that?”

I’m smiling so wide I’m sure you can see it from outer-space. I respond the only way I can think of, by gripping his collar into my fists and crashing my lips to his for a long, heated kiss.

“Hypothetically speaking, you’re

crazy.” I pant.

Xavier pouts. “Why?”

“For starters, we’re nineteen and you’ll change your mind.”

“Okay, but what if—” Xavier pecks the tip of my nose. —hypothetically speaking, I ask you in a year or two once you understand how much I could never change my fucking mind about you even if I wanted to?”

My heart is beating so fast you’d think it’s trying to go into cardiac arrest.

“Well, then, hypothetically, I’d say yes.”

“Cool. So, hypothetically, can we go the fuck home now so I can strip you naked and—” he leans forward to whisper the rest in my ear.

Sweet Lord.

My eyes flare, his graphic description rousing my animal instincts.

“By home you mean our unfurnished apartment?” I remind him of our less-than-optimal living arrangements. We need to go furniture shopping as soon as possible.

Xav flashes an adorable grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll blow up an inflatable mattress or some shit to make you comfortable.”

I snort. “And they say romance is dead.”

I spot Dia ambling toward the truck with her phone in her hand before I can shower my boyfriend with kisses. She stops by our side a second later.

“Okay, pervs, make-out time over. We should get that last box before Chance gets here,” she says and makes a beeline for the dorms. Xavier and I follow close behind.

My heart hurts from the moment Dia twists the door to the dorm open. A handful of memories linger in the air—move-in day, arguing with Dia, getting ready for our first college party. Dia’s stuff is left untouched, but I was always the hoarder around here. It’s almost… unrecognizable like this.

Xavier picks the last box off the floor without breaking a sweat, and I dread the impending pain of saying goodbye.

“This is it,” I tell Dia, a tear warning me of its descent.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Dia whines.

“Come on, D, I’m not moving to Canada,” I chuckle. “I’ll be a thirty-minute car ride away tops.”

“Still, I’m going to miss you,” she admits, opening her arms for a hug, which I welcome on cue. “Even though you’re messy, and you steal my clothes, and you two broke the bed—literally.”