“Fine?”
I take a breath, saying it a little louder this time. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”
Jared throws his arms up like he just won a championship game. “Hell yeah!” He fists the air before turning back to me, his grin wide and shameless. “Allison Castillo’s my girlfriend.”
I shake my head, but I can’t fight my smile. “You’re such a dork.”
“And you’re stuck with me now.”
His grin spreads wide, bright enough to outshine the Christmas lights. “Good.”
And just like that, he yanks me off the armchair and spins me around like we’re in some cheesy rom-com, the kind that’ll make my cousins groan when they walk in. I swat at him, laughing despite myself.
“Jared!”
“What? I’m celebrating,” he says, his arms still loosely around my waist as he sets me down. He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead, his lips warm against my skin.
“You’re crazy,” I whisper, my voice muffled against him.
“I’m your boyfriend,” he corrects, smug as ever.
As his arms pull me in closer, I realize I don’t mind it at all.
“You’re gonna have to wear the shirt now, no getting out of it.”
“Shirt?” I raise an eyebrow, playing dumb.
“At my games.”
“Oh, I’ll be theloudestcheerleader there.” I shoot him a teasing grin.
He steps closer, a toothy smile betraying his put-together front. “I love you,” he says quietly, and I wasn’t ready for how those words hit me.
I smile, tracing the line of his jaw with my thumb before cupping his face, the feeling in my chest undeniable. “I love you, too,” I whisper, the words slipping out without hesitation.
Epilogue
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 throughpicking 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.
