Page 144 of The Thought of You

“If you thought this was too embarrassing, you should’ve just told me beforehand. You didn’t have to come here to mock me in person.” I fold my arms over my chest. I try to, anyway. The costume is ridiculously wide.

I could easily disappear inside of it like a turtle, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. I’m done hiding.

“I’m not mocking you, Lockhart,” he says, his sober tone washing over me with comfort.

“You didn’t think the ‘Two Skittles Walk into a Bar’ note was too cheesy?” I tilt my head and squint for any detection of mockery in his solid façade.

“I loved the note.” He inches toward me with the cool demeanor he seems to always possess when I’m in turmoil. His calm and collected persona will be the end of me.

“If that were true, you would’ve dressed up.” I back away as he swallows every foot I set between us.

More people filter inside, a parade of superheroes, zombies, and cheerleaders. My thundering heart nearly drowns the commotion and music from inside, which grows louder each time someone yanks the front door open.

Owen glances over his shoulder as if to check for lurkers and eavesdroppers, then grabs my hand to lead me between two cars until we’re tucked away from prying eyes and ears.

“I’m not dressed up because I don’t want you to make a statement about us to everyone,” he says. “I don’t want you to out us until you’re absolutely ready. I don’t want it to be because I pressured you into it. That wasn’t fair of me to demand in the first place, and I’m sorry.”

I wiggle my hand from his grasp. “Don’t do that. Don’t let me off the hook so easily.”

“There’s no hook.” He rams his hand through his hair, no hat on his head tonight. “There’s no ultimatum, either. It was wrong of me to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I should’ve been more patient, but I was scared.”

“You were?” This is news to me.

Owen is such a confident person. I didn’t think anything could scare him, but if I’ve learned anything this week from my parents, whom I’d previously and naively believed were indestructible, it’s that we all get scared. It’s just part of being human.

“I’m not scared of my feelings for you. I’m not scared of us,” he says, easing my hand back into his. “I’m scared of losing you.”

My lips part as everything starts to make sense.

I squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry I ever gave you a reason to doubt my feelings.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I did.” I lick my lips, likely smearing the pale red lipstick Caroline gave me for the night. “It was never just about the job, and I should’ve been honest with you about that. I was afraid to tell everyone about us, but more than that, I was scared of trusting you with my heart.”

“Angel, I would never take such a thing so lightly.”

“I know.” I cup his cheek in my small palm, loving the five o’clock shadow he’s sporting tonight, and tilt my head. “The biggest wrongdoing of mine is letting you leave my house last weekend without telling you how important you are to me. I let you leave without saying how beautiful those things you said to me were. Worst of all was that I let you leave at all, and I’m sorry.”

He shifts his face into my palm and places a kiss on my wrist. It’s the softest touch of his lips on my skin, and it’s enough to launch a tidal wave of emotions through my chest.

I melt against him like a current pulling me, and I can’t fight against it, not that I want to. Not anymore.

“What I should’ve said was that…” I gulp. I’ve read countless romance novels and watched even more romantic comedy movies. I’ve swooned over so many grand gestures and heartfelt monologues, but none of those are enough. “You’re infuriating,” I blurt.

His good-natured chuckle makes me smile, especially since he doesn’t release his all-consuming hold on me.

“You’re sloppy and impolite,” I continue as my smile grows wider. “When I’m with you, it’s pure chaos. No rules or manners or logic. And I absolutely love it.”

When he kisses me, the stars above us blur into magnificent streaks of bright lights as my eyelids flutter closed.

His kiss is firm and heated, yet loving and tender, and the bubble we previously resided in expands. It feels like it covers the whole world around us.

This is how we were always supposed to be—open and free.

“I love you,” he whispers against my lips, and I gasp.

I thread my fingers through his hair and rise onto my tiptoes. “I love you too.”

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