rubbing slow circles with his thumb.
“You wanna know my biggest fear?”
His voice sinks lower.
“If a year from now, after all of it?—
“After the late nights we’ll stay up arguin’ about dumbass album rankings and sharin’ trivia no one else will give a shit about, like we’re in some two-person private club.
“After all the songs you’ll never finish writin’ ‘cause we’ll always end up on the damn floor instead. And all the weird little Andrew-and-Allison moments we’ll disappear into—‘cause that’s what happens when we’re together.
“After the mornin’s I’ll wake up to you and your smart mouth, and the nights you’ll blow up my phone while I’m at work ‘cause you’ll miss me… All the texts sayin’ you’re still up, waitin’, ‘cause you’ll sleep like shit without me…
“After all of it?—
“The tacos. The laughin’ ‘til we’re cryin’.
“All the times your hand will end up in mine,
“‘cause that’s what’ll feel right.
“After the kissin’. The fuckin’. The fightin’.
“The beggin’. The crawlin’.
“‘Cause you move,
“I follow. Every goddamn time.”
“If after all that?—
“I’m standin’ in front of you,
“and you look at me like I was nothin’.
“Like none of it meant a thing.
“Like I was just the guy you used to figure your shit out.
“Somethin’ you had to get outta your system.
“Somethin’ to toss once you got what you needed.”
His jaw tightens against my temple.
“That’s my knife, Allison.
“The one that ends me.”
He goes quiet for a beat,
voice caught on emotion.
“Now you got it in your hands.”
My fingers curl into his shirt, grabbing hold,
falling from the edge of him.
