“Yeah?”
“You’re trouble.”
“I’ve always been trouble.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Wasn’t meant to be.”
I laugh quietly, shaking my head. For a moment we just stand there like that. Close enough that I can feel his heartbeat through his chest. Close enough that everything else in the world seems slightly less important. Which is both comforting and terrifying.
“You know this might be a terrible idea,” I say.
“Most good things start like that.”
“That’s so not a true statistic.”
“It absolutely is.”
“You just made it up.”
“Maybe.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re very confident for someone whose entire future currently depends on my decision making.”
He smiles slowly. “That’s because I know you.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
“How exactly?”
He brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear and I swear it makes my knees go weak. “Because it’s us Frey. It’s always been us. I know you panic, but I also know how brave you are.”
The words catch me off guard. “I’m not brave.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I panic about literally everything.”
“Still brave.”
“I make lists for things that don’t require lists.”
“Still brave.”
“I once cried because I couldn’t find a parking space outside Tesco.”
“That sounds extremely stressful. I’d have cried too.”
I stare at him. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he says lightly, “here I am.”
Yep. Here he is. Not disappearing. Not brushing this off like some impulsive moment. Not pretending it meant less than it did. Just… here.
“You could walk away from this very easily,” I say quietly.
