He swallowed hard, fighting a smile. “My dad told me to finish early. I was unhelpful, again, apparently.”
“The heart emoji?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“I sent it by accident but I’m not sorry. I mean, I panicked at first, but like Evie said, if it’s true, then don’t tell him it was a mistake.” I shrugged. “Because itistrue.”
He grinned at me, then at the floor, then at the wall, then back at me.
I went to him, not touching, but close, and with a courage I didn’t even know I had, I held up my palm.
He stared at it, then ever so slowly traced his fingeracross my palm and then my fingers. He blinked a few times quickly, then slid his hand across mine and threaded our fingers.
I didn’t even dare breathe.
It was wonderful and beautiful, and... it was everything.
I wanted to tell him in actual words how I felt.
Not just an emoji, not what the heart represented, but my actual heart.
But then he pulled his hand free and opened and closed his fist a few times, then wiped his palm on his sweater. He laughed. “Makes my skin feel all funny.”
I chuckled too. “Same.”
He swallowed hard again, still grinning. His eyes were the most fantastic blue. “I want to get used to it.”
My eyes did that burning thing again, and I tugged gently on a button on his coat. “You can practice on my hand any time you’d like.”
So he took my hand again, holding it in both his. He pressed our palms together again, sliding our fingers through, but then he scrunched his nose up in the cutest way that told me he might have had enough hand-holding for now. But then he linked our little fingers.
“Pinky promise,” I whispered.
He chuckled. “I’ve never... I’ve never pinky promised anyone anything before.”
I grinned at him. “Then let’s make it your first. What do you want to promise?”
His eyes met mine ever so briefly, a flash of striking blue, before he stared at our hands again. “I promise to try.”
“Try what?”
He winced. “To be a good boyfriend. To try and hold your hand. To try and make you happy. I won’t always get it right, but I will always try.”
Oh, my heart.
“Deacon,” I murmured. “I don’t want you to change a single thing. I want a boyfriend who is just like you, just the way you are.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“I want to hold your hand. I want to do that.”
“Then we’ll work on it together,” I said gently. “If it’s what you want.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“No rush though, okay?” I said. “We have all the time in the world. To me, you’re already the greatest boyfriend ever, so everything else is a bonus.”
