Colten presses his lips together, and I know he’s holding back a laugh. “Yes, we’re boyfriends.”
“Good,” I say, glad myboyfrienddoesn’t laugh when my voice cracks. “I’ve always seen you in my future. I just didn’t realize that I could have more.”
He exhales, long and dramatic. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’myouridiot,” I say, smiling.
He rolls his eyes before kissing me again.
This one is a little less soft and a little more intentional. There’s tongue involved, the taste of him sweeter than anything else I’ve had or will have.
Oh my goodness, I want to marry him.
My brain short-circuits for approximately three seconds before I remember how to function. Marriage later, for now, maybe we should find somewhere that isn’t a public space to make out.
I’m about to suggest going back to our hotel room, when I realize—
“Wait,” I say, pulling back further, looking Colten over with concern. “Why aren’t you glowing?”
He blinks. “What?”
“You’re not glowing,” I repeat, staring at him. “You were glowing, remember? It was, like, a whole thing—”
“You’re not glowing either,” he points out.
I gasp and look down at my arms.
Nothing.
“No,” I whisper. “Does that mean—does that mean I’m not attracted to you anymore?!”
“Patrick,” he says, deeply unimpressed, grabbing my face and kissing me again.
My panic disappears instantly, Colten’s unshakable confidence melting it with a single touch. I lean against him, promising myself that I’ll never let him go.
Well, maybe if he asks really nicely, but I will cry and beg first.
When he pulls back, he’s giving me one of his rare smiles. There might not be a magical glow around him anymore, but I swear I can still see a halo around his face.
“I think we broke the curse,” he says, looking up at me, pleased and happy.
I wrap my arms around his back, smiling back at him. “It was kind of a crappy superpower anyway.”
He laughs, the sound settling deep into the marrow of my bones, things finally feeling right.
My world is already in my arms, after all.
Epilogue
Fall hits like a reset button.
There’s the same field, same lines, and the same tiny orange cones that are probably older than Coach.
But I’m different.
“Okay, no—Nico, if you kick it like that again, I’m legally required to make you do a hundred more drills,” I call, jogging backwards as the ball slowly rolls away from him. It looks almost like it’s mocking him.
“I slipped!” Nico shouts back, already grinning as he chases after the rogue ball.
