The pounding of his heart echoed as he leaned further into my touch. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if my words were lodged in his throat, refusing to go down.
Taking in a deep breath, I let my hand drop from his face, my eyes gliding back to the water. I unfolded my legs, burying them into water, kicking softly.
“Snow white?” I whispered, doubting if he even heard me.
“Yes,” he answered, too quickly, too eagerly, as if that silly tag was really his christened name.
I turned to him, a soft smile on my lips.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
The words left my mouth before I could stop them. But there were already out there, carried off by the wind. I couldn’t gather them back and tuck them back inside my heart now, could I?
To my question, he frowned, not in displeasure, more like he was doing math in his head. He was always doing math.
“I don’t really know what that entails,” he said quietly. Then softer, “But I like being yours. I would love to be…yours. Your boyfriend.”
For a moment, I stared at him as he stared right back. My chest was too full, like something warm had been poured into it without warning.
“You’re clearly bad at this,” I murmured softly. “And somehow, you managed to say just the right thing.”
How could he be so adorable and go ahead to say the most beautiful things?
“If–if I’m your boyfriend, will that make you mine, too?” he asked, soft and hesitant. “Only…mine?”
I laughed, more breath than sound, as I shook my head.
“You’re like a box of chocolates.” I leaned closer, grazing my lips along his jawline. “All sweetness, no warning.” I cupped his cheek softly, my thumb smoothing out the nonexistent crease under his eye. “You’re so easy to love, Snow white.”
He ran his gaze over my face, his skin covered in pink tint. “You didn’t–you haven’t answered yet,” he pointed out, his gaze expectant…desperate.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Being my boyfriend makes me yours. And yes, only yours.”
12
CALLAN
Beth Fraser gave me butterflies.
The soft blue glow of my phone’s screen briefly illuminated the dark room, indicating that a message had dropped. I reached over the cup of coffee set on the table beside me and grabbed the phone, the device weightless in my hold.
Elizabeth;Do you think Riven will die?
The message read, waiting for a reply.
I sighed, slipping a bookmark between the pages of the book left open on my lap and snapped it shut. Then I let my finger hover over the message bar for a few seconds.
It was 2: 00 AM. I should be asleep or better yet, doing something reasonable with my time. Instead, there was a copy of a book about dragons and their riders in my hands.
The buddy-reading idea had ended up becoming a ritual, one I didn’t quite anticipate taking so seriously. Yet, here we were, deep into our second book. And as much as I wanted to complain about her obvious disregard for time and the simple human need for rest, I never did. Because despite myself, I liked this. This thing we always did where she would send me messages every second, complaining about every paragraph, and I would always sigh before replying, pretending I wasn’t getting a kick out of having her attention all to myself. Her attention was always mine, had been mine alone for days now.
Because she was my girlfriend.
Beth Fraser was…mine.
Thinking about it made me float, like I’d been slipped something sweet, dangerous, and now my world was gently tilting out of focus.
When I was in high school, I always spotted boys my age, typing on their phones, smiles illuminating their faces. And it wasn’t because they finally figured out that formula for that annoying math equation. They were talking to a girl they liked. And I had often gotten curious, found it unexplainable and strange that a simple text with another human was so…special.
