Page 88 of Boyfriend
Next, the soft brush of his kiss lands on my nose. And this bit of tenderness makes my eyes feel hot, and my chest ache with a sudden pang of longing.
“Abbi,” he says gently. “I’m sorry I was a dick.”
“It's nothing,” I insist. “I get it.”
He shakes his head once. “No, I don't think you do. You mean a lot to me. I was afraid to say so before.”
Oh boy. “Weston, I'm really fine. Don’t feel bad for me. There’s no tragedy here. Everybody gets sick.”
“Yeah, but everybody isn't you.” He swallows roughly, still gazing into my eyes. “I realized something this week, Abbi.”
“What’s that?” I ask, trying not to fidget. All this attention is uncomfortable for me. I know I’m pale and have bags under my eyes.
“I love you,” he whispers.
Wait, what?
“I love you,” he repeats. “And I’m sorry I had so much trouble admitting it. I tried really hard to keep things casual, but I failed. And when Carly told me you didn’t show up for work, I finally understood how much I need you.”
“Weston,” I breathe. “I’m sorry for the drama. But just because you got worried for a minute doesn’t mean you—” I almost can’t even say it out loud, because I want so badly for it to be true. “Love me.”
“Oh, it does,” he says with a bashful smile. “I’m the one who said we should just be friends who also have sex. But now I can’t remember what that even means. When you’re really close friends, and you also have really hot sex, that only adds up to one thing. At least for me, anyway. It means you’re my person, Abbi. And I want to keep being friends and keep having gratuitous amounts of sex for years to come.”
We’re just staring at each other now, and I might be in shock. “Gratuitous amounts?” I repeat nonsensically.
“Well, yeah.” Then Weston wiggles his eyebrows. Because he’s Weston, and he’s fun even when he’s being serious.
A weird half-giggle escapes my throat before I choke it back. Then my eyes fill. “I could, um, get behind this idea.”
“Could you please?” he whispers.
“Y-yes,” I say shakily. Although I have to wonder if my fever has caused some kind of delirium. If I wake up and realize that Weston didn’t actually just say all those wonderful things, I’m going to be inconsolable. But just in case this is actually happening, I’d better tell him how I feel. “I love you so much,” I gasp. “I tried not to.”
“Same, same.” He smiles, and pulls me into his arms. I rest my cheek against his flannel shirt. “So this all worked out just like we planned, no?”
“No,” I agree, and he laughs. I hear it in stereo as I burrow a little further into him.
“I fought it hard,” he whispers, “because I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”
“What?” I yelp. “You’re the best man I know.”
He shrugs, then kisses the top of my head. “But you deserve the best, Abbi. I thought you deserved someone who wasn’t all twisted up after watching his parents betray each other. I thought you needed a pro-level boyfriend.”
“But you are,” I insist.
“Nah. Those don’t exist. There’s only flawed guys who try hard. That’s me. Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“You’ll come to my sister’s wedding with me. If you’re going to be my real girlfriend now, I need a date to this thing. And not just because you have a way with my dad. I’m in it for the arm candy.” His smile is incandescent.
My heart flutters. “Sure,” I say easily. “I’d love to come, although I think your dad will be okay this time. And Weston?”
“Yeah?”
“Just for the record, I don’t find either of your siblings the least bit attractive.”
“Good to know,” he says, rocking me against his sturdy chest. “Good to know.”
