Page 160 of Reverse

I’m done hiding. From everyone. I’m done hiding my love for this man, period. Endless daydreams of a repressed future start to unfurl as he continues to pour himself, his love, into me with the most beautiful of love songs.

He loves me.

He. Loves. Me.

As if reading my thoughts, a shy smile graces Easton’s lips as a screen full of swaying lights from the audience become his background.

The power of our connection flows over every inch of the stadium, or at least it feels that way, as it blankets me while he sings the last of the lyrics. Piano notes linger in the air as the violins rush out on high and the stadium goes black.

An explosion of praise fills the air as I manage to make out the slide of Easton’s piano bench due to a small backlight shining brightly just beneath it.

Face covered in the aftermath, I brace myself, my eyes still spilling, scalp tingling as he rushes toward me.

Six feet . . . five . . . four . . . three before he comes into view. I leap for him, and he catches me easily, his mouth capturing a sob as he kisses me like there isn’t a stadium of people screaming for him. But it’s me he soothes with his gentle hands, my tears he wipes away as our kiss intensifies. There’s so much conviction in it on both our parts, yet he fuses more in with every sure swipe of his tongue.

For those precious and monumental seconds, it’s just us.

Natalie and Easton.

He breaks our kiss as the lights go up and immediately starts ushering me out of view and toward safety.

“N-no,” I say, pulling my hand away, “No. N-no more h-hiding.”

He stares down at me, weighing my words.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” I sniff. “I l-love you, Easton. With e-everything in me. No more hiding—from anyone.”

Elation brightens his face as he sweeps me back into him and kisses me, this kiss even more intense than the last. I grip him to keep from buckling as he deepens it further, our hands caressing in worship. A blur of bodies starts to move around us as we continue to bind ourselves to the other, our tongues tangling as silent promises flow between us. We seal ourselves together this way until forced apart. Smiling at each other, noses brushing, I speak up. “And to think I was f-freaking out because you hadn’t texted me back,” I murmur.

“I wasn’t going another fucking day without telling you,” he pushes the words against my mouth.

“Jesus, I can’t believe you did this . . . like this.”

“Easy . . . and happy?” He teases, repeating my words from this morning.

God, was that just this morning?

“It’s y-you, only you, that gets me t-tongue-tied and flustered like this. I’ll have you know I’m an a-authoritative woman in every other aspect of my d-damned l-life,” I stutter out horribly. “I h-hope you’re happy,” I sniffle as I try and fail to gather myself. “I-I-I’m ruined. You’ve r-ruined me!”

“Only fair.” I read his lips more than I’m able to hear him due to the increasing commotion surrounding us.

“W-w-wh-hat the hell am I s-s-s-upposed to do now?” I sniff and shake my head as he clears the mascara beneath my eyes.

He grips the sides of my face, his gaze prodding. “Marry me.”

FORTY-SEVEN

“Space Song”

Beach House

Natalie

“W-w-what?” I stutter out as Easton speaks up, but not to me.

“I’m done tonight, man,” he barks to an approaching stagehand, his intense gaze still trained on me. “Please walk away,” he orders more aggressively. There’s no sign of a bluff anywhere in his expression as he watches me while weighing my reaction to his proposal. The stagehand scurries away as I gape up at him before he calls for Joel. I faintly make out Joel’s approach in my periphery, eyes bolted to Easton’s. “Please grab us a car. We’re right behind you.”

---