Page 141 of How to Prevent a Fumble

Grabbing my side, Leo pulls me into him, burying his face into my neck. “You’re a hard person to read, Briar. I just want to know you.”

“You do know me.”

He shakes his head.

“I want to know everything about you. I want to know when you’re feeling sad, or when you’re mad, but I especially want to know when you’re happy.”

“I feel like I make it pretty obvious when I’m happy,” I say, pulling away to look at him.

“No you don’t,” he chuckles. “But the left side of your lips usually twitches when you like something. When you’re happy about something. I’ve watched you enough times to know that, at least.”

I stare at him. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure what there is to not understand,” he laughs. “I want to know everything about you, Briar, and if that means learning all those little tells to make sure I know what you’re thinking across the room, then I’ll do it.”

Heat creeps up my neck and to my cheeks as I realize that he truly means his words.

“What is this?” I whisper, my hands on his chest. He’s soft yet firm somehow, feeling more like a teddy bear than a statue, and it feels more comforting than I’d care to admit.

“It’s anything you want it to be, Briar.”

“I don’t know what any of this means.”

“I want whatever you want, Sunny.”

“And what if I decide I want you?”

The words are out before I can stop them, and my lips clamp shut as I silently slap myself.

“Then you have me.”

I sigh into him, deciding I’m too tired to attempt figuringout what that means in the grand scheme of this weird fucked up fake love story we have going on.

“Okay,” I yawn.

“Go to sleep, Crosby,” he chuckles.

“Speaking of, is it weird calling me Crosby in bed?” I smile to myself at the question.

Leo thinks for a second. “Now that you say it, it does feel a little weird. But I can assure you, Briar. I’m not thinking of a single other thing when I’m fucking you.”

Nuzzling into him, I smile. “Noted. Night, Warner.”

His arms tighten around me, and I’m not quite sure when I drift off.

But I do know that it’s the easiest I’ve fallen asleep in what feels like years.

41

BRIAR

“Fuck!” I mutter after the twelfth photo I’ve messed up.

I’ve been working on my cookbook a lot more, trying to get it ready for the final stages. I don’t have a name for myself, so I know that it’s not going to go anywhere really, but it’s been the hobby I’ve clung to for the last year, and it’s worth all the effort I can put in.

Maybe someday it’ll be something.

“You okay?” Leo asks, coming down the stairs in those gray sweatpants I’ve come to thank the heavens for.

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