Page 61 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

“I love you, Nate. I tried to run from it; I tried to ignore it. I tried to pretend it wasn’t there, but it’s never gone away.

Not really. And I want something real with you.

” I shrugged. “It’s as simple as that. I know deep down, you don’t think you can juggle Crescent Light and be with someone because I know you.

But I still want it. Late nights at the studio, writing sessions, going away on tour—none of that matters because I will still be there wanting you.

And… and if you don’t feel the same, I need you to tell me now because—”

“I want it.”

My gaze snapped to his. His expression was awestruck bewilderment laced with pure, bone-deep yearning.

“I want it,” he repeated. “All of it. More than anything . I want you.”

I studied his face, knowing it almost as well as I knew my own. As easy as it would have been to toss my arms around him and throw caution to the wind, there was more I needed to hear first.

“What exactly does that mean to you, though? I’m sorry, I can’t depend on assumptions anymore. I need complete transparency. Total honesty. ”

He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts visibly catching on something, before stretching an arm back to the bedside table.

For a split second, I thought he was going to flip off the light and roll over, effectively pretending my confession didn’t happen.

But when he faced me again, he was opening his leather notebook.

I watched as he leafed through the pages, feeling the familiar urge to be a voyeur over his shoulder just to catch a glimpse at his inner thoughts. He flipped to a page toward the back of the book, a recent entry. Then, to my shock, handed the book to me.

My heart thudded in my chest, suddenly worried that the words would lose their magic if I touched them. He held it closer, urging me.

Slowly, I lifted the book from his hand, running my fingers over the soft leather, combing over Nate’s black, scrawling writing.

He pointed to the bottom of the open page.

Maybe at one point, when I didn’t know where she was, what she was doing, who she was with, when I could tell myself she hated my guts and wanted nothing to do with me, I could have pretended I didn’t want her so badly.

But now? With her mere feet away from me?

Within arms' reach? When I can see her and smell her and imagine how soft her body is and hear her laugh, I’m a fucking goner all over again.

“This isn’t the same notebook I had when we met,” he said, “but it goes back about a year.” He took it back, flipping to an earlier passage before handing it to me again and pointing.

Almost sent you a song Just to see what you thought As if that was normal As if I forgot

He took it again and turned to another passage further back.

There’s a piece you have A piece of me Don’t want it back It’s yours, it’s yours, it’s yours to keep

Then he flipped to another, this time at the very front of the book. The first entry, dated over a year before.

Somewhere out there in the stars, when all time ceases and the earth fades to dust, a tiny part of what remains of me will still be there, loving you

I read it twice, my chin trembling as tears blurred my vision.

Nate shifted closer. “You asked me what I meant by saying I want you.” He reached tentatively for my hand, his fingertips trembling slightly as they closed the gap to mine.

“I mean everything, Oli. I want your face to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night. I want to call you just to hear your voice. I want to spend all day doing nothing but existing beside you.”

I leaned in, folding over myself as his words settled into my system. He dropped his forehead against mine and I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent.

He swiped a tear that had fallen onto my cheek. “I used to think wanting you so badly was selfish, and maybe it is, but I don’t care. I don’t want to go another day without you being mine. Because I am yours.”

Cupping my face, he gently lifted it until I met his eye. “I love you. I have loved you for a long time. And I’m all in, Oli. I want it all. Titles and anniversaries and anything else I can get. Whatever you want, I want it, too.”

My breath hitched with the soft sob that bubbled out of me.

My heart swelled and burst in my chest, flooding me with a truly indescribable feeling.

Like something had finally shifted and dropped into place so perfectly, it was as if it had always been there.

Like I was full, overflowing with something so pure I didn’t know it existed.

I wiped at my eyes, my sobs mingling with quiet laughter, which only grew louder when I met Nate’s eyes. He was biting his bottom lip, holding in chuckles of his own as he watched me. He caught stray tears as they ran down my cheeks, his own eyes looking glossy and full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked with a laugh.

“Please.”

In a movement as natural as breathing, Nate cupped the back of my neck, thumbs rubbing along my jaw, and kissed me. Long and slow and savoring, I leaned into him and sighed against his lips, in no rush for the moment to be over.

He pulled away only an inch, rubbing his nose against mine, leaving light, lingering kisses on my cheeks, my brow, my jaw, the corner of my mouth before melting against my lips again.

The first few of a million kisses to come.

When we finally pulled apart, he stayed close, not letting me out of arms reach as we settled back under the covers .

He circled me in his arms, kissing me again and again, moving his lips against mine with languid, adoring leisure, whispering honey into my ears.

I missed you.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I was drifting to sleep against his chest, my hand resting over his sunrise tattoo, the next time he spoke.

“Does this mean you’ll come to San Francisco with me?”

My voice was barely above a whisper. “I think I’d like that.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He just squeezed me tighter, planting a kiss on my hairline.

We lay in still, peaceful silence. Two people, two friends, who always seemed to barely miss each other on the pendulum of their lives—bound inexplicably together for a reason neither understood.

Only this time, finally, they met in the middle.