Page 47 of Rating the Book Boyfriend

“I know. I don’t look blind,” I tell him with a small smile. “The muscle alignment was corrected, so they look perfectlynormal. But since that eye had been out of alignment for so long, it didn’t receive the visual stimulation it needed to function like a normal eye. It’s called amblyopia, though most people call it a lazy eye.”

His eyes are still flicking slowly between mine, as if looking for a discernible difference. “When you say legally blind, what does that mean?”

“That distinction usually means a person can’t be corrected to better than 20/200. The big E on most eye charts is 20/400, if that gives you some idea.”

“And yours is worse than that?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m 20/1000, so I have to stand at twenty feet to see what most people can see from a thousand feet away. Pretty much everything looks like blurry, barely discernible shapes in that eye.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way. If they were giving out bad vision awards, I’d definitely get a trophy.”

Riggs barks out a laugh and then clamps his lips shut, eyes widening in horror. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

I nudge him with my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I can joke about it.”

“Of course you can,” he says, with the tiniest of smirks.

To prove my point, I ask him, “What do you call a blind gynecologist?”

Warily, he replies, “What?”

“A pain in the ass,” I sing, and after a beat, we both fall back onto the blanket and laugh like maniacs at the dark sky. The stars seem to twinkle in time with each giggle that passes our lips.

“You’re something else, Liberty Hill.”

“That’s what my dad always said.”

I’m still staring at the glow of the moon against the depths of midnight-blue, but I can sense that Riggs has tilted his head in my direction. “How did you end up staying with the Hills, if you were such a brat? Which I don’t believe, by the way. You’re entirely too sweet.”

If it wasn’t so dark, I’m sure he would notice the blush shining on my cheeks.

“Oh, I can assure you I was, but instead of expecting me to adapt to them, my parents adapted to me.Aroundme. Mom always told me she and Dad fell in love with me the moment I entered their house and that love trumps all.”

“I like that. They sound like wonderful people.”

“They were. It didn’t hurt that Mom was a librarian, so she was very orderly herself.”

“Ahh, the good old Dewey Decimal System. Who knew something so confusing could change a child’s life?”

I smile up at the heavens.Such a beautiful and apt analysis.“I know, right? I was lucky to have them.”

Riggs rolls on his side and props his head on his hand. “How could you think that story isn’t interesting?”

Angling my head toward him, I allow my lips to squeeze into a wan smile. “I guess if you’re into fit-pitching children with vision conditions, you would think so.”

“That’s not how I read it. I think it’s more a story about love and acceptance on your parents’ part and perseverance and grit on yours.”

“Or just brattiness,” I say, and he presses one long finger against my lips. I stifle the urge to kiss it. But I really, really want to, which is confusing. I’ve never been a finger-kissing freak before.

“Don’t you dare call yourself a brat again, Liberty Hill, or you’ll have me to deal with. You were a scared child who wascoping by trying to control the only things you could in your small world.”

“I guess.”

“Turn and look at me.”

My body recognizes the demand in his voice and moves me onto my left side without any conscious input from my brain. My left arm tucks beneath my head, and Riggs lowers into a mirroring position.

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