I can't feel my toes.
His forehead creases. “Every rejection? Every time you walked away? You were handin’ me an out, seein’ if I’d take it. Waitin’ to see if I’d stop you. Because if I was only in it for the chase? I’d be gone by now. If it was just a game to me? I would’ve given up.”
The next line slides under my skin.
“But I didn’t. That’s why you didn’t either.”
My brain blanks. My lips move. No sound.
His smirk fades as he draws closer.
“But you don’t stick around for bullshit.”
A wrinkle cuts between his eyes again,
like the more he thinks about it,
the more clear it becomes.
“You? You been waiting on somethin’ real.”
A shiver rolls down my spine.
Andrew squints, watching my reaction,
seeing me now.
“That’s what this was, wasn’t it?”
I catch him tracing my mouth.
“Waitin’ to see which would come first—me walkin’ away, or me finally sayin’ somethin' that cut deep enough to count. And the second I confess this is real to me, that I don’t want you walkin’ out that door… you confessed, too.”
My breath snags.
“No I didn’t? What’re you talkin’ about?”
His brows raise
like he can’t believe I don’t see it.
“You’re not stuck. You’re stalling,”he repeats.
“That was you askin’ me to pick.
“‘Cause you want me freed-up, yeah?
“You just couldn’t say it straight.”
Fuck.Why does it sound like a truth when he says it back?
“That’s the first time you told me what you wanted,” he says, more serious, more intimate. His navy eyes coast between mine. “That’s how this works with you, isn’t it? No games. No bullshit.” His jaw tightens. “The longer I’m here, being real… the harder it is for you not to be.”
My next breath clogs in my throat.
I swallow to wake it up.
“You’re reaching,” I mutter. “Hard.”
