Page 43 of When We Meet Again

I bring her hand to my lips and kiss each knuckle. “I like you, too.”

We continue staring for a few more minutes before she finally sits up, as if she’s gotten a second wind. “How about that movie? Or are you too tired?”

“Let’s do it.” I prop myself up against the headboard. She positions herself next to me and lays her head on my shoulder.

I’d love nothing more than giving in to making passionate love to her, but instead, she falls asleep, leaving me to watchRomeo & Julietalone. I could’ve laid her down and gone to my room, but no part of me wanted her to move and wake her up. Maybe it’s the fear of her regretting me being here or kicking me out because she realizes sheisn’tready to move on.

Eventually sleep takes me, I’m assuming because I’m in a neck-jolting position, lying on my back. But before I know it, sunlight seeping through the undrawn curtains forces me awake. I blink a few times, trying to remember what room I’m in and the night’s events that unfolded one by one. We kissed. A lot. And it was fucking magical.

A light snore comes from my chest.That wasn’t me. My arm feels like lead next to me and I peek down to a head ofblonde hair splayed across my torso. Waverly is nestled against me, using my shoulder as her personal pillow. This is the second time we’ve woken up next to each other, and I can honestly say I don’t hate it.Just the opposite. I want this every day.

You know those moments where you lie awake replaying your past and the insane decisions you’ve made, or ridiculous things you’ve said? I think I’ve moved past that. The images of her smiling at the bar the night we met flash in my head. The night we raced to the top of the hill, when both her boyfriend and my girlfriend waited at the bottom. That is the moment that lives in my heart. Our first date-non-date of looking at the stars and how comfortable she felt lying beside me. Or of the dance we shared at Two Balls and A Bull. The way I felt her pulse banging under my thumb when I dipped her by the neck—her eyes turning dark and full of desire. Our relationship has evolved into something ethereal. Something I’ve never dreamed of feeling.

“What time is it?” she grumbles into my shirt.

I roll over to look at the clock behind me with sleepy eyes. “Eight-twelve.” My eyes pop all the way open. “Shit! I had something I needed to do at six-thirty!”

“You had something to do at six-thirty in the morning in the middle of the ocean?” she jokes, rubbing her eyes. She thumbs the string of drool from the corner of her mouth at the same time that I wipe at my wet pec.

“Lena…”

Her face pinches.

“No…it’s not what you think! I had to—” A loud knock comes from the door across the hall that cuts me off.

“Roman?”

I panic. I know he gave us his blessing, but the thought of actually being with Patrick’s woman under the same roof as my parents still pulls at my gut.

“Roman? Are you in there?” My dad’s voice is louder and there’s no way Lena doesn’t hear it. But she sleeps like the dead.

Fuck it. I’m not going to try to hide it. I don’t care who knows anymore.

I’m falling for Waverly Kensington.

It’s about time.

CHAPTER 23

WAVERLY

Fortunate:Another moment was kicked off my bucket list by Roman.

Unfortunate:I fear now that the bucket list by forty has been filled—except for the reading books part as I don’t need him to help with that—he’ll realize there’s no reason to keep coming around.

Harold does not look happy.

“Where were you?” He looks past Roman and finds me. And the awkward human that I am—I wave. “Well, it’s pretty obviouswhereyou were, but this was not the morning to do…that.”

Oof.

Harold wipes his hands over his face. “Rinaldi canceled the trip because you didn’t answer your phone to sign off on the flight.” Both Huxley men look at me at the same time.Awkward.“You didn’t…did you?”

Roman pushes his dad out into the hall and closes the door firmly behind him.

No. He didn’t. I fell asleep before he had a chance to even consider that… but even if I had stayed awake, he wouldn’tbecause I don’t think that I could have. Somehow Patrick still has a hold on me. Not because I’m still in love with him. I’ll always love him, but he’s the past. I’m allowed to move on. I can be happy, damnit. I couldn’t because I’m fucking scared. Roman’s probably a beast in bed. All of those past sexual experiences he had that Patrick felt the need to tell me about—I feel inadequate. I’ve slept with men, but none of them ever pulled out the wild in me. Plus, these days, if I sneeze with my head even slightly turned, I have to go to the chiropractor to get adjusted.

I pick up my phone and dial the one person I knew who would have all the answers. And even if she didn’t have the answers, she always had my back.

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