Page 98 of Reel Love

but I wanna do that because I want you.

I want all of you, forever, every day.

You and me. Every day.

~ The Notebook

We clear our dishes together.

Alana leans her forearms on the island counter. “So, do you want to grab your book and read out on the patio with me?”

“Are you trying to get me to put on my reading glasses?” I ask.

“Who me?”

I walk around the island and pull her into my arms. I’m pushing my luck, but also too keenly aware we’ll be apart for the next few days and then it sounds like we’ll be borrowing time with her upcoming hectic work schedule. And who knows if my job will conflict with her free days.

“Yes, you,” I tug her intoward me.

“I can’t help myself. You in those glasses. It’s like my kryptonite.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. In what universe am I Alana Graves’ kryptonite?

When I open my eyes, she’s smiling up at me, still caged in my embrace.

“Are you going to kiss me, Stevens? Or do I have to do all the heavy lifting around here?”

I chuckle. “What the lady wants …”

I raise one of my hands and run my fingertips along the curls resting on her forehead and down her cheek.

“I love when you do that,” she nearly purrs.

“Do this?” I run my hand along her curls again.

“Mm hmm.” Her head tilts up and our eyes meet.

I bend down and brush my lips over hers. She grips the back of my shirt and kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before. I lean back on the island, pulling her in toward me. She runs her fingers through my hair. I’m dizzy from the connection. Weightless. Suspended. Her hands move over my back and then grip my biceps. I lace my fingers through her hair and hold her to me. Her lips go soft and she smiles into our kiss. I pull back and place one last kiss on her mouth. She drops her hands, running them down my arm one inch at a time as if she’s practicing topography, mapping out the dips and rises of my muscles. When she reaches my hands she grasps them, looks up at me, and smiles.

She lets out a contented sigh. We stand there gazing at one another. How did we get here? Alana’s such an unexpected development in my life. I wasn’t even looking for her—and to think, I had her all along. It’s mind boggling.

“What are you thinking?” she asks in a sated voice.

“I’m thinking how amazing it is … you and me.”

“I still feel like I’m imagining you,” she says.

She reaches up and runs her hand down my jawline. I bend my head and kiss her palm.

“You’re imagining me? How is that even possible? You’re …”

“Alana Graves. I know.” She sounds slightly deflated.

I take her chin between my thumb and pointer and tip her face up toward mine. “When I’m kissing you … When I’m sitting out on a balcony eating tacos with you … When you make me laugh? You’re just Alana. My SaturdayIslandGirl. I’m not here because of Alana Graves.”

She smiles softly at me. “I know. That’s what’s so amazing. You really aren’t. And it means the world to me.”

I drop my hand, trailing my knuckles along her cheek, collarbone, shoulder, arm.

---