“Yeah,” Isabelle breathes. “Everything she said.”
I snort. “I told him I love him.”
“Yeah,not in English!” Isabelle groans. “Then why are we having this conversation?”
“Because I said it in Korean,” I murmur.
Lana chortles. “So you think it doesn’t count?”
“He said it first,in Korean,” I explain. “And then I said it back.”
“That counts,” Isa says.
“Does it?”
“Yes!” Lana exclaims. “Jesus Christ, Nat! I tell Christian I love him all the time in Spanish. It counts!”
I groan, tossing my head back on the cushions. “Okay, fine.”
“Grace would call you a silly moose right about now,” Isabelle teases and pokes at my side.
I laugh. It’s moments like these, with my best friends, that I feel like the most privileged person in the world.
“Have I told you guys recently how much I love you both?” I croak, my lips growing into a heavy pout.
“Yes,” Lana says, curling up to my side and hugging my arm. “You have.”
“You do all the time,” Isa adds, curling up to my right side.
“Not enough,” I mumble. “Also, can we go inside? It’s fucking freezing.”
“God, yes please.” Isabelle shivers and stands immediately. Lana turns off the outdoor heaters before we scurry inside the warm house.
Lana beelines to the water dispenser for a refill then into Christian’s arms. Isabelle picks up Gracie to spin her around while awkwardly, and not at all subtly, lingering around Nico.
I close the back door behind me and I’m encased by warmth, chatter, and laughter—surrounded by some of the best people I have in my life. But it takes only a second to find the person who might be my favorite.
I find the man I’m looking for, everything about him pulling everything about me right toward him. It’s like there’s a compass within me, always leading me to my destination.Heis my destination. He is where I end up—with whom I end up.
I slide right into his side, disrupting the conversation he has going on with Julian and Luca, and I don’t feel guilty about it. The guys don’t so much as blink at us, as if this is the most normal thing they have ever seen.
His arm curls around me so effortlessly that I can’t believe this is even real life, the kind of life where Rowan Asher has his arms around me and I’m burying my face into his sweater because it smells just like him—his natural scent, cologne, laundry detergent, soap, everything that smells likehim.I wish I could capture the essence of him and carry it in a tiny perfume bottle everywhere I go.
Luca goes on about the next Formula 1 season while Juliantalks about who he’s rooting for. I disconnect from their conversation when they start talking about UFC, and let myself sink into Rowan.
Soon, a drunk Isabelle is herding everyone to the floor so we can play different versions of Cards Against Humanity. Isabelle’s favorite is the Latinx/Hispanic version of the game.
Luca and Julian leave immediately, mostly because Grace is pulling them by their fingers with all her strength.
Rowan’s arm rubs up and down my spine, and those bright baby blues come to mine.
“Hi.” I peer up at him through my lashes.
“Hey, sweetheart.” There’s that boyish grin, and the zoo of butterflies inside of me are unleashed.
Loving him is a rush. Him loving me is a rush.
I’m a junkie.
