“I know I’ll never have this again. My heart won’t connect to someone else like this. My soul won’t yearn for someone who isn’t you. I think about you, your passions, your mind, every minute. Every day.There’s only you, Rosie.Your existence, the fact that you’re real, is almost too much for me to comprehend. And I know you could have anyone you want-”
“I want you.”
My throat is dry, chest heaving. For the first time since I started speaking, I gather the courage to look at her, and I can’t remember how to breathe.
“I want you,” she repeats herself, and I fix my glasses.
“What?”
“You’re shaking, Locke.”
I am. Gripping onto my glasses, I realize my vision is only blurry because I can’t sit still.
Rosalie slowly moves my hand away, intertwines our fingers, and smiles. “You don’t need to be nervous. Everything you said was so beautiful, and I know it must’ve taken you a lot to say it. Thank you for being so much to me, Locke, but you don’t have to be nervous. I want you—more than anyone or anything else.”
Blood won’t stop rushing to my face, and my leg is shaking again, but I focus everything on relief.
We’re so obvious. After the time we’ve spent together, there’s no reality that could exist, other than the two of us wanting oneanother. I don’t think I’ll ever be truly worthy of a woman like Rosie, but I know no one will give her more than me.
Our knees knock together, hands still clasped as one. A deep red blush blooms on the apples of her cheeks. She’s so effortlessly adorable.
“We have feelings for each other,” I state the obvious.
I don’t need any further confirmation. I just love saying it aloud.
While my nerves start to calm, Rosalie hums.
“We do have feelings for each other.” I mull over what move to make next, but she nudges my thigh with her foot. “What do we do, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“About this.” Her hand moves back and forth between us. “About how we feel. What do we do?”
I try to make sense of what she’s asking, but I can’t. In the ten minutes since we solidified our feelings, I’ve already decided what I’d be getting her for Christmas.
I’ll rent out a theater. For the entire month of December. Have them prepared to play any Christmas movie she wants, with every snack she could dream of ready, and a brand-new recliner chair installed so she’s always comfortable. She’ll be able to analyze and discuss a film to her heart’s content without worrying about someone shushing her over their five-dollar slushie.
It might make more sense for me to rent out the theater until Valentine’s Day, actually.
Rosalie nudges my thigh again while I’m rethinking my plan, and my eyebrows knit. “Sorry. I don’t get what you’re saying.”
Sighing, she scoots closer to me, heat radiating off her skin. “What do you… expect from this?”
When she laughs, she sounds like a different person. There’s no infliction of joy or lightheartedness. She’s awkwardlystumbling and entirely avoiding my eyes. Her hand anxiously reaches up to rub her collarbone, right where an L initial necklace would sit perfectly.
“I want whatever you’re willing to give me. Friendship, relationship, anything. I just want you in my life entirely.”
I imagine a life where, despite our mutual attraction, Rosie doesn’t want to pursue this any further. I wouldn’t push against that. There are so many factors beyond our feelings: Her classmates could twist this against her. There’s a small chance that Liliana and Grant won’t love two people so integral to their lives being involved. My father could think up some ridiculous reason to disapprove of our relationship.
Everything has been so meticulously carved out for me, there’s no reality where I’m prepared for Dad’s wrath if he had an issue. Maybe that should be my main concern.
It’s not. All I can feel myself caring about is the girl who made this space feel like home and the things I can have with her.
Her dark brown eyes glow. Closer to the vision of her I hold to my heart—bright and passionate. Her mouth tips upwards and she says, “When I said I want you, Locke, I meant in every way. I just wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted.”
I blink. Readjust my glasses. Speak in a deadpan tone.
“Do I not make that clear enough?”
