I knew that all I had to do was say the word and he’d be on his feet, bound to deliver on whatever request I had. But it wouldn’t be fair to makethisrequest. Not now, not on what was supposed to be our last night together.
“Nothing.” The lie tasted bitter, like the darkest roast of black coffee. There was a reason I only drank lattes drenched in caramel. I curled onto my side and closed my eyes. “It’s nothing.”
The next time I awoke, it was to find myself cuddled against Soren’s chest, warmth radiating throughout my body. The TV was still on, though the volume had been lowered exponentially, and he’d tradedRuPaul’s Drag RaceforThe Great British Baking Show.
I rolled to my back and blinked my eyes fully open. I found myself staring up at a very chiseled chin.
“What time is it?”
“Almost midnight,” he said softly. At the same time, he drew his hand through my hair, curling a lock around his fingers.
“Mm, that feels good.” I burrowed my face into his neck. His pulse beat wildly against my nose. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
“I’m not.”
“This was not how our last night together was supposed to go.”
He stiffened and fell silent. I could tell that he wanted to say something, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it. Not if it meant saying goodbye.
“Clarke, I—"
“Wait. Please let me say something first.” It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t wait for an answer. “The last few weeks have been soincredible. Truly. You’ve shown me a side of myself I pretended wasn't there for a long time. And I just want you to know that I will forever be grateful for that, for you, and our time together."
I knew it was cowardly not to look him in the eye while I said my piece. But I also knew that if I looked into his big, beautiful eyes while I said it, I might do something really dumb, like burst into tears or tell him I loved him.
When he didn't respond right away, the doubts kicked in. Should I not have said something at all? Should I have told him I wanted more? Had he fallen asleep? Only when I started to detangle my limbs from his did he tighten his arms around me and speak.
"Thank you."
My heart sunk. I didn't want this to end. A part of me had hoped he might feel the same way, but I guessed this was it. I'd known it was coming all along, and yet, now that it was here, I felt lower than the last rung on the ladder.
I choked back a sob. “You don't have to stay if you don't want to."
“Do you want me to go?”
Did I?
“No,” I answered honestly. I didn’t want to ruin our last night together, but I also couldn't imagine spending it anywhere other than in his arms. “But I know I put a lot on you tonight and we've got a long bus ride ahead of us tomorrow, so I would understand—”
He tipped my chin up with his fingers. “There’s nothing more important than being with you. Right here and right now.”
Well dang, good answer.
I rolled back into him, this time laying my head upon his chest. As I closed my eyes once more, I came to a startling realization. I had never felt like this before. Not with Walden, not withanyone. Maybe it was just because it was our last night, maybe it was a PMS-induced haze, but I didn’t think so.
Maybe, just maybe, I loved Soren Sinclair.
Soren
Roasters 1-0
"Alright, you handsome fuckers." Roman stood up, lifting his vodka soda toward the sky. "One down, one-hundred and sixty-one to go."
"Plus the playoffs," Pink amended. "And the World Series."
Roman's piercing look had Pink slinking back behind Bennett, like that Homer Simpson in the hedges GIF. Whereas Pink captured attention with his antics, Roman demanded it with his stare, no words necessary. When he was finally satisfied that we were all paying attention, Roman finished his toast.
"Here's to us, to the season, and to the people we love who give us a reason."
