Our eyes lock.
Then mine slit through the moment?—
“Overachiever.”
“Slow reader.” He grins.
And I hate how it settles into me.
I shake my head?—
“Sappy, sexy, still fuckin’ here…
“Jesus—is that who fuckin’ raised you?
“Jane Austen?”
He smirks. “Close. A pair of sapphic saints.”
I roll my eyes, the laugh slipping out.
But it fades because his eyes aren’t smiling anymore.
"Drew, what you're askin' for is a relationship..." I finally say, a little shaken.
“What I'm askin' for is a chance at us," he replies. “Be real, Sonny. You say no, we’re gonna be right back here next week.”
His thumb draws lazy circles against my ribcage,
hips locked to mine.
His other palm’s flat against the wall by my head,
and he leans in,
mouth nudging my ear.
“I’m telling you right now… You and me?
“We don’t end.
“We burn. We walk. We get lost.
“But we don’t fuckin’ end, Sonny.”
He pauses, mouth pressing against my temple.
“We circle until we crash right back into each other, over?—”
He kisses my cheekbone?—
“and over?—”
The corner of my mouth?—
“and over?—”
I smile.
