"Simple. Don't watch."
"I can't help it."
"Why?"
Because I'm in love with you.
Because I've been in love with you since that night Bjorn broke your heart and you didn't cry, didn't break, just smiled like nothing hurt.
Because I see you when nobody else does.
"Because you matter," I say instead.
Something shifts in her expression.
"I matter," she repeats, like she's testing the words.
"Yes."
"To you?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
Too much.
More than I should admit.
More than is smart or safe or appropriate given who her father is.
But she's here, in my room, looking at me like I'm the only real thing in her world right now.
And I'm done lying.
"More than you know," I tell her.
She steps closer.
"Show me."
"Ingrid—"
"Show me I matter. Show me I'm not just—" Her voice cracks. "Show me I'm worth keeping."
"You are."
"Prove it."
It's the worst idea.
She's drunk, vulnerable, looking for validation in all the wrong places.
I should put her in my bed, take the floor, let her sleep it off.
I should be the good guy.
The safe choice.
