My hand stills. “What?”
“I’m jealous of him.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer right away, but he reaches for my hand that’s still holding the slip. “Because he was on the receiving end of your love for so long. Because he got to hear all the things that you’re passionate about, all the things you believe in, your achievements, and your worries.”
My heart both blooms and sinks that he feels that way. That he thinks my relationship with Nathan was any of those things. Because as much as I thought I could love Nathan, he was never on the receiving end of any of that.
“So, yeah. I’m jealous, Chlo. I’m so fucking jealous.”
I set the tiny strip of paper back down on the dresser, wrap my arms around him, and place my head over his chest. His heart pounds loudly abasing my ear. I close my eyes, squeezing him a little tighter, and whisper, “He’s not on the receiving end anymore."
When Maverick said he had a surprise for me, I assumed he meant dinner or something casual. Access to the astronomy tower is anything but casual.
The air is colder up here, so I tighten the fabric of the blanket he thought to bring around me, settling back into him. His chest rises and falls steadily against my spine, and his arms hold me tight across my middle.
“So, you believe in astrology. You believe in fairy tales. You believe?—”
“Who says I believe in fairy tales?” I cover my smile with the blanket and his laugh reverberates through my back.
“Your entire existence, says.”
I laugh, dropping my head to his shoulder so I can look up at him. Like always, he’s already looking at me. His blue eyes twinkle with the reflection of the million stars in the sky tonight, holding me in place the same way his arms do. Intentionally.
His finger twitches under the blanket, but just the smallest movement causes me to go still. I can almost see my breath when my lips part as my breathing picks up. Maverick leans in, his eyelashes lower, and his lips press firmly to my forehead.
I feel it rather than think it. It’s something that’s taken up residence behind my rib cage, and I feel every beat. Every flap of wing.
Butterfly.
Butterfly.
Butterfly.
It’s on the tip of my tongue. One breath.
One word to either ruin or admit everything.
“Do you believe there are other universes?” he asks, looking back up at the sky.
I follow his line of sight, but then like a magnetic pull, I’m right back to looking at his face. This close and without his focus on me, I can take in every unfairly perfect line of his face.
His clean cut jaw that looks like it was carved with precise intention. The curves of his lips are soft but always lifted into a confident smirk. The straight plain of his nose, which by all means should be bent or at least a little crooked. And then his lashes that were wasted on a man, frame those clear blue eyes.
When I look at him, for a split second, it feels like the entire universe narrows down to just this moment. This rooftop with his arms wrapped around me. It feels like nothing could have aligned better. Somehow, out of all thatspace, timelines and uncertainty, I ended up here. Held in his arms like I’m something he sees the world in.
“I think some moments are harder to imagine than others…” I admit. I nuzzle closer into him and focus on his steady heartbeat at my back. “But yeah. I believe there are other universes out there.”
35
maverick
If there are, I would love you in every one of them.
36
chloe
