Page 76 of Moving Forward

“Skydiving,” he says dryly, and shoots me a grin. “Television or whatever normal couples do. We are a normal couple, right?”

“If normal is a word in our vocabulary.”

“I was asking more about the couple part, but that too, I guess.”

He’s lying on the bed, hands laced behind his head. Somewhere between the bathroom and the bed, he managed to lose his shirt and change into a pair of sweats. How did I miss that? And oh god, am I drooling? He’s strong, tan, and chiseled everywhere. The only imperfection is a scar that stretches across his abdomen, above a trail of blond hair that disappears into the band of his sweats. Okay, so in this case, imperfection is perfection.

“Peaches? You alive in there?”

“Huh?”

“I’m beginning to feel objectified. Snap out of it.”

I laugh nervously. “Maybe I’m just trying to figure out your aesthetic. Really? Stripes and plaid?”

“Grams picked out these bed sheets.” He pats the spot beside him. “Just lie down, Max.”

My heart pounds with the weight of an anvil. I continue forward anyway and slide onto the bed, unsure of how much space to leave between us. He shakes his head and takes me by the arm to pull me closer. I snuggle up against him, my head on his chest. He wraps an arm around my hip and sets his chin on the top of my head. “Relax,” he murmurs in my ear.

I focus on my shoulders; there’s no reason for them to be attached to my ears. Slowly they drop down, inch by inch, until I let out a contented sigh. Why am I acting awkward? I don’t need to be. It’s just Cain. My Cain.

He kisses my hair. “There you go. Now what do you want to watch?”

“Whatever’s on,” I mumble. This is way comfier than sitting on a couch.

“See, I’m more than just a man. I’m a pillow too.” He tangles his hand in my hair as he searches through a streaming service for something to watch. Eventually he lands on a nineties show. He watches it, laughing softly under his breath. I only half listen, more intent on hearing the sound of his heart. The soft, repetitive beat sounds like home and slowly lulls me to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CAIN

I never thought I’d be the romantic type. Sure, when I dated Erin I did stupid things like cram giant stuffed animals into her locker on Valentine’s Day or ask the DJ to play our song at school dances. I was such a giant jackass back then I can’t be sure what I actually meant. It was all just a superficial attempt to keep Erin and pretend everything was fine. Later, when I was fucking girls behind her back, I finally realized romance wasn’t worth it. I wasn’t worth it.

Now that I want to be the romantic type, I’m at a loss. I’ve got zero experience. I want to prove to Max just how important she is to me. I don’t want to scare her off by telling her I love her, so for now I have to show her.

I brush her hair away from her eyes. Amazing how full of life she is, even asleep. She’s so vibrant and perfect in my arms, right where she belongs.

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