Page 55 of Heartstruck
Alli
Six months later
I’m working on a new puzzle, the kind with a billion shades of ocean blue that all look identical in the wrong light, when Jared drops a paper bag onto the coffee table, effectively scattering my pieces like a wrecking ball through my carefully organized chaos.
I narrow my eyes up at him. “Jared.”
“Before you murder me,” he says, flopping onto the couch beside me like he owns the place—he kind of does, since his hoodies and cleats are everywhere—“I brought snacks.”
I glance into the bag, a smile tugging at my lips as the sweet smell hits me. “Kettle corn?”
“Your favorite. And I made a pit stop at Mocha Moon,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows before holding up one iced coffee and a matcha latte like a peace offering.
“Fine.” I glare, but it’s weakened by the grin on my lips. “You’re temporarily forgiven.”
Jared smirks, leaning back on his elbows as he watches me reorganize my puzzle carnage. “Why do I get the feeling I’ll never be permanently forgiven for anything?”
“Because you’re annoying,” I deadpan.
“And you love me for it,” he fires back. It’s such a quick, playful, comfortable response that I stop halfway through picking up a puzzle piece, my stomach flipping for the millionth time because he still does this to me—releasing thousands of butterflies. Every single day.
I roll my eyes to play it cool. “I don’t know where you get that idea.”
Jared doesn’t give me a chance to react. One moment, I’m standing, and the next, I’m in his lap, his arm snug around my waist, pulling me in with ease. My squeal is drowned by his laugh as he rests his chin on my shoulder, like we’ve done this a thousand times.
“You said you loved me first, Alli,” he teases against my ear.
“And yet, I have so many regrets,” I mutter, though I melt just a little against him.
He presses a kiss to my temple, light but lingering, and for a second, I forget what I was going to say. What was I even arguing about? I turn to look at him, and of course, he’s already watching me, that damn smile—the one that says he’s not just in love, he’s all in.
“So, the summer trip’s still on?” he asks.
“Obviously. Can’t back out now; I already got my passport photos taken.”
“The ones you swore were terrible?”
“They’re awful,” I tease, nudging his chest with my elbow. “You’ll see when they let me on the plane anyway.”
Jared chuckles under his breath, his hand tracing irregular circles on my back. “I can’t wait to see your terrible passport.”
“You’re supposed to say it’ll be fine.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Ugh,” I groan, dropping my head onto his shoulder, but my grin gives it all away. His laugh rumbles through me. I can’t help but close my eyes. Jared makes everything effortless—the love, the laughter, the endless possibilities.
“I mean it, though. I can’t wait. You, me, and Japan. It’s a cute look on us.”
I lift my head; our eyes lock. The sincerity in his gaze blows against my reasoning. Then he winks.
“Stop it!” I reprimand. “You’re right…” I say as I run my fingers through his hair. “It really is.”
“Remind me to bring the chargers for the camera and to buy postcards at the gift stores,” he says, his voice dropping. “My mom wants photos to show her counselor.”
His words hang in the space between us, and I find there’s a quiet kind of hope there, a sense that maybe we’re closer than we ever thought. That he could feel that piece of himself come back, allowing me in.
“I love that you’re trying, even after everything that’s happened.”
“Yeah,” he admits, lips curling into a fair smile. “And you know what? It doesn’t feel so hard.”
And just like that, everything inside me loosens. I pull him closer, kissing his forehead, then cupping his face in my hands. “That’s because you’re not alone in this.”
Jared leans in, his kiss slow, a quiet kind of intensity, as if he’s trying to make this moment last forever. When he pulls back, he gives me that familiar cocky grin, but there’s something more in his eyes, like he knows exactly what this means.
“You so love me,” he whispers, because it wouldn’t be Jared if he didn’t get the last word.
“And you’re impossible,” I reply, laughing even as I kiss him again.