Page 36 of Solitude

This is dangerous territory. Uncharted land between us. Like something forbidden and left uncovered for reasons beyond me. I should shut her down, honestly. It would be irresponsible and reckless and selfish of me toallow anything to unfurl romantically between Winnie and I right now.

And I’ll tell her that.

Right now.

Except I don’t.

“I like a good balance of all the languages.”

Winnie lifts a brow, and it’s judging me for how selfish I am to want so much. “I thought the point was to pick one?”

Shrugging, I lean back against the counter, resting my butt on the lip of the sink. “I want all of them, though. I’m greedy that way.”

“What love language is vulnerability?” She whispers, taking a step back to rest against the wall opposite of me, mirroring my stance. “I like whatever category vulnerability and truth fall into.”

My voice sounds awestruck and fascinated by her answer, like the idea of such a thing is preposterous because it doesn’t conform to one of the five predisposed boxes you’re given to choose from. “Why?”

“Doesn’t the idea of baring your soul, showing someone all of the best and worst parts of you, give you a sense of freedom?” She questions, crossing her arms over her chest. “To know that someone sees the bad parts of you and chooses to love you regardless?”

Air punches out of me. “What’s the worst part of you, Winnie?”

She blinks, like the question is unexpected, yet it feels so obvious to me in the moment. I want to know every partof her. Just the way she’s describing. I want to know all of the parts of her that she tries to keep secret and love her anyway.

Love.Fuck.

“Why would I tell you?”

I smile, lopsided and shy. “Tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.”

Winnie chuckles and pushes off the wall. She shuffles forward until she’s standing in front of me, toe to toe, so close I could count the freckles dotting her face. I’ve never had a girl make me feel so completely upside down and sideways. Just a jumbled mess of limbs and barely thought out sentences. Two years ago, I’d stared at Winnie with pity and sympathy, my heart hurting for the girl who just wanted someone to care about her.

Now I look at her through new eyes, wondering how I missed everything good and warm and wonderful about her two years ago. She’s still lonely, searching for acceptance from everyone she encounters, and she’s still sad. No doubt about that.

But right now, in the Fletchers’ bathroom, there’s a genuine smile on her face. Her words are real and raw and powerful, cutting to the deepest parts of me instantly.

She searches my face for…something.

“You want to know the darkest parts of me, Beck?”

“I really fucking do, Winnie.”

“No,” she whispers, so close to my face I can feel her breath. “I can’t give you everything.”

And the way she says it… Like she’s already given me too much, and my thoughts swirl at that confession.

My eyes drop to her lips, and I mourn the loss of her heat when she takes a step away. “One day… One day I’ll know you in ways no one else ever will.”

She swallows, teeth scraping over her bottom lip. “Really?”

“Meet me later?” I ask instead.

Please say yes.

Winnie’s lashes flutter. You’d have thought I just whispered something dirty in her ear by the way she squeezes her eyes shut.

I wait her out. I’m a patient guy, after all.

Finally, she opens her eyes. It feels like an entire year has passed in her silence, but I know it’s only been a couple of seconds.

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