He’s fucking terrifying.
His eyes move between mine.
“Way I see it? I’m stuck in a fuckin’ bookstore, trying to break it off with somebody I never gave a shit about… while trying to figure out how the fuck to keep you from walkin’ out that door. But I can’t do the first thing because—” he pauses, then repeats himself, quieter this time. “—I’m afraid to take my eyes off you.”
Then comes the bones of a smile.
“And what's fuckin' crazy?
“I don’t give a shit about doing it right.
“Not if I lose you trying.”
I stare at him. Only him.
A second ago, I was fine.
Now, not so much.
Now, I'm melting.
And I don't fucking melt—I soak.
“You’re not stuck, Andrew,” I whisper?—
“You’re stalling.”
As soon as I say it, something hits him.
I see it behind his eyes first,
then the realization spreads across his face.
All I can think is—shit, what? WHAT?
He leans into one hip.
“I asked you out, what—six times already?”
He squints, counting on his fingers.
“Coffee. Drinks. Dinner. Dinner. Dinner again. Tacos—which, c’mon, that’s its own damn thing. Don’t start.” A shake of his head, still wrapping his brain around it. “Every single time, you shot me down. Tried to leave. Twice.”
The air slips out of him
like he’s finally figured it out.
“But here you are.
“Still standin’ in front of me.”
His head tilts, smiling. Like he admires it.
“You been testin’ me this whole time, and didn’t even know it.”
I'm not moving.
In fact, I'm not moving so hard
