I love him.
“Am I a cynic?” I blurt out.
He pauses. “What?”
“Do you think I’m a cynic?”
Liam’s brow scrunches up, and he releases my leg so he can sign. “What brought this on?”
“That’s not a no.”
He laughs. “No. I don’t think you’re a cynic.”
“Really?”
“True biz. I think you’re kind. And thoughtful. And way too smart for me. You’re romantic and you’re beautiful. Maybe sometimes you’re a little too honest for your own good, but I like that about you.”
I laugh and cover my face, because he’s laying it on too thick, because he’s wrong, because I’m not any of those things. But he makes me feel like I am. He makes me want to be.
“I like everything about you,” I finally manage to tell him.
“Oh yeah?” He grabs my leg again, and immediately finds a really gnarly spot that makes me yelp.
“Not everything!”
He laughs, eases off, leans down to drop a quick kiss on my shin.
“Do you want to keep swimming or stay out here?”
I’m getting kind of cold, actually. And Amy won’t be back for another hour.
“We can keep swimming.”
***
It’s warm when we step out of the Natatorium, or maybe it’s just me, warmed on the inside because of the swim, because of Liam, because he’s right next to me in his sweats and a hoodie, our shoulders brushing.
The sun shines on him, his flushed cheeks, his true-blue eyes, his raven hair shining where it’s still wet. He looks at me, and smiles, and somehow the day grows even brighter.
My love for him boils over, so violently I can’t hold it in anymore. I pull him against the side of the building, so we don’t block anyone, and give him a kiss.
“Hey.”
“Hey, you.” He kisses me back, hooks his fingers in my belt loops. He looks down at me, and I look up at him, but it doesn’t feel like he’s looming. He’s just with me. Always.
My heart’s beating even harder than it did when we were swimming.
“I need to tell you something.” I swallow. I can’t keep this in anymore.
“Okay?”
“I really, really like you,” I say.
Liam grins. “I really, really like you too.”
I take a deep breath. “You make me feel good about myself. You listen to me. You see me. And I don’t know if you know how much that means to me.”
“Jacks...” he says, so soft I can only see the shape of my name on his lips.
