Page 27 of Until We Fall

“Butterflies like I’ve never felt before,” I say.

The palm fronds dip in the breeze behind him, the smell of him mixing with the island. I want to grab him and haul him against me. I want to hug him and tell him over and over that he’s exactly as he should be. Thatof courseI’m into him. It seems so unquestionable to me.

But he just keeps standing there, and I don’t want to run roughshod over his boundaries. I won’t.

“D,” he whispers, and I take it as an invitation to keep going.He’s not running.He’s listening. And I’m finally telling him.

“I’m into everything about you.” My voice cracks, hands shaking. “The way you make me think. The way you make the world more interesting.” I pause, trying to steady my voice, but it’s not steady. It’s rocking, and it’s real. “Andyour height and your freckles and those long eyelashes of yours. Your glasses and your wrists, fuck yourwrists…” I groan. “I love your wrists. And I love your brain. How smart you are. How kind you are. How you don’t pretend to be anyone but yourself. I’m nearly obsessed with you, and it feels so terrifying and good to finally tell you. To finally let it out. If it’s too much, then I understand. You don’tneed to do anything. No boundary crossing. Just getting to be around you is enough.”

He’s still not moving.

My mouth is dry, and I’m aware of exactly how I’m standing, the board shorts that are snug around my waist, the faint weight of the yellow bracelet, the wisp of hair that’s fallen into my sight. The flip-flops I forgot to take off at the door, how the plastic part is pinching the inside of my big toe.

“Do you mean that?” he whispers.

“Every word.”

“It’s…” He swallows. “No one’s been into me. Not really. Not ever.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true. The one guy who…” His lips press, his jaw tightening again. And things crystallize for me.

The one guy who…. I don’t know what happened, but I hate whatever the fuck it is. “If you don’t believe me, then I’ll just have to keep telling you,” I say. “Until you do.”

“D.” His chin quivers. “Iwantto. Somewhere in me, I know I logicallyshould. But it’s so hard with all the things that I tell myself in my head.”

My heart aches. I want to pull him against me, hug him to my chest, tell him again and again that he’s so much more than whatever he’s telling himself. That there’s nothing wrong with him. That if someone has said something to him, if someone has made him believe something else, then there’s something wrong with them, not him. He’d tell me that about my LD, in a heartbeat.

But it’s so much harder to see our own worth. I get that. I know it’s complex.

“We’re best friends, Rory.” I take a slow step forward. “You believe that, don’t you?”

His eyes soften. “Yes.”

His arms unwrap from his chest. I take another step and stop two inches away from him. I pause, unsure what to do.

I let out a relieved breath when he tips forward, pressing his head against my chest. I wrap my arms around him and pull him in, closing my eyes. We hug. For a long time, hanging onto each other, breathing together.

I just hold onto my best friend. Whatever else I feel for him, it stays there too, but it quiets. I just love him so much.

Tree frogs sing a chorus beyond the broad leaves of our patio. The fat palm fronds are still, hanging quietly. The sun has fully set now, landscaping lights around the patio flicking on.

“D,” Rory whispers, against my chest, and I lean back to see him. But I don’t unwrap my arms. I am taller than him. Our height difference is sharp when we’re this close.

He sucks in his top lip, looking up at me. And then he pushes up to his toes, his chest against mine.

I swallow, looking across at him.

What’s happening?

His eyes move around my face, and then he tips forward.

His lips brush mine. Lightly, softly.

He’s kissing me.

Holy shit, he’skissing me.

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