Page 58 of Until We Fall

My backpack slides down my arm, and I barely catch it before my laptop thuds to the ground.

“You did this?” I ask, stepping just inside. The smell hits me—sweet and floral. I move around the room, touching each bloom with my fingertips.

“You’ve been quiet since we’ve been home.” He steps around my desk, following me. He’s wearing nothing but a red pair of lounge pants, one of the ties dangling outside, the other tucked in. His shoulders are tanned darker than his stomach, probably from playing beach volleyball. The desk light plays over his abs and muscles as I turn to face him.

“It’s fine to be quiet, of course,” he continues. “But I thought I would bring some Clua back to us, you know? Like, maybe you need confirmation.”

“Confirmation?”

He steps closer, and my knees become weak. My pulse flutters.

Norepinephrine and dopamine. But more than that—oxytocin. The hormone that affects long-term emotional attachment. The one that involves bonding and trust. Attachment.

It’s not just surface-level. He’s my best friend.

He takes another step closer, and he smells like the flowers, warm and fragrant.

“Confirmation,” he says. “That I love you.”

Oh god.

Is thisreal? Does this get to be my life?

My eyes rove his face. “Is thisreal?”

A sadness sweeps through his eyes. They’re always so expressive, showing so much.

“I think… you’re worried it was just a holiday fling,” he says. “That I don’t truly love you. That what we had didn’t follow us home.”

My voice shakes. “How do you know me so well?”

“Three and a half years of friendship? Of being together?” He licks his lips. “Of loving you? Because that’s what it’s really been. It didn’t just happen in Clua. It was there long before that, and it’llkeepbeing there. You can rely on it, Rory. You can rely on me.”

Tears squeeze out the corners of my eyes. Oh god, I’ve been so distant the last two days. I don’t know what I’m doing.

But I want him. I want to be with him.

“I love you.” I’m starting to shake. I know my body is adjusting from the cold, but it’s more than that. It’s a release of fear. “I’ve just been so scared.”

“You don’t have to be.” He’s next to me in an instant, his arms wrapping me. We hug, our hearts pounding against each other. My fears start to quiet.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “How do you even do this?”

He leans back to look at me. “I know a florist or two.”

“You’re amazing, D.” I slide my hands down the curves of his warm biceps, my thumbs lingering in the creases of his elbows before my fingers find his external obliques. I can’t help it. I don’t want to stop touching him. “I got something for you too.”

I reluctantly release him to grab my backpack. I’d gotten him something back on Clua, but then I became nervous about it. I don’t know why, fully. I’d tucked it in the front pocket of my backpack and have carried it around since. I dig it out, still in the small white box the souvenir shop gave me.

I cross back to him, clutching onto the box awkwardly. My gift feels insignificant compared to what he did for me. “It’s not as big as yours.”

I pause when I realize what I just said. And then we both laugh.

His brows rise. “Since when does bigger mean better?”

“It doesn’t,” I admit. I take a breath and hold out the box.

He takes it, his smile growing. “I’m going to like this.”

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