Page 52 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“It’s okay,” I whisper, because somehow it is. “I should have told you how I felt, but I was embarrassed because I thought you were in love with someone else.” Someone prettier, more adventurous, more fun. Seeing all of the photos of them together on his social media had just underscored how very different she was from me. And my brain conflateddifferentwithbetter.

“It’s not okay,” he says. “All that time, I was afraid to tell you how I felt because I thought you only wanted to be friends. And I didn’t want to blow up our friendship because it meant everything to me.”

“I’ve never been good at this,” I whisper.

“Good at what?”

“When feelings get complicated,” I explain. “Back then, I didn’t know how to say what I needed, didn’t feel like I could ask for what I wanted. And what I wanted most was you.”

His teeth graze my knuckles, and my heart bangs against my ribs. I want more of him—here, now, and always.

“It’s still hard for me to talk about my feelings,” I tell him. “I get overwhelmed and choke. Sometimes, that just means Ihold everything inside.” In the Griffin house, it was out of the question to discuss uncomfortable feelings like embarrassment or hurt because my parents saw that as weakness. I was supposed tosuck it up.Forget about it.When something hurtful happened and made me cry, my mom would stiffen her jaw and tell me,Straighten up your face.To me, that meant pretending it never happened.

I’ve done a lot of pretending over the years. But I don’t want to anymore—especially not with Noah.

“I get that,” he says, his voice gravelly. “But you can always tell me how you feel. The only way you’ll hurt me is if you lie to me.”

My chest tightens as he moves closer, his knees brushing against mine.

“Please don’t hide from me,” he says.

I didn’t think I’d been hiding exactly, but as soon as he says the words, it feels true. I’ve been hiding parts of myself, and that might be the same thing.

“You’ve always made me feel safe,” I tell him, sliding my free hand along his jaw. “Like it was okay to be my weird little over-achieving, insecure self.”

“It’s more than okay. You get to decide who you want to be. Not your parents, not your ex, not your friends, and not me, either.” He holds my hand to his lips, and I nearly combust. “You can be as weird as you want, Griffin. It only makes me like you more.”

I snort out a laugh. “You say that now.”

“Try me,” he says, and I can feel his lips curve into a smile.

His foot slides over mine, and I feel another tug low in my belly. There are so many points of contact now—his thigh against my knee, his lips on my inner wrist. When I shiver again, it’s not from the cold.

“Hiding my feelings for you is my biggest regret,” he says. “I don’t want to keep any more secrets from you.”

“Same,” I whisper.

“Can we just chalk the past up to being stupid kids?” he says.

“We did do some stupid things back then, didn’t we? Mixing Jäger bombs with truth or dare, Fall Break on that sketchy riverboat that caught fire and nearly sank. It’s a miracle we survived at all.”

He grins and nuzzles my hand, his lips moving against my wrist, and it ignites something deep in my chest, this wanting that won’t go away.

Mercy, how I don’t want anything else between us.

“I have a proposal,” he says, his voice doing that sexy-rumble that makes the little hairs on my neck tingle. “Let me take you on a proper date. In one week, when we’re off this mountain.”

My heart hammers in my ribcage, so loud I’m certain he can hear it. “What would we do on this date, Valentine?” I say.

He makes a sound deep in his throat, low and gravelly, and it nearly unravels me.

“Telling you would spoil the surprise,” he says. “But we have a lot of lost time to make up for. Wouldn’t you say?”

His knee nudges between mine, just barely, and my heart flutters like a bird.

“A lot,” I agree.

“I’d like to see where this goes,” he says. “I think we owe it to ourselves, don’t you?”

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