Page 102 of Deep In Love
“I didn’t say that.”
“What are you saying, then?”
“I’m saying…I’m saying that’s what this feels like for me.” Her fingers grip my hair in a possessive way. “You feel like my partner.”
I stay silent to allow Charlie the space to make her claim because it’s what it feels like. I might have also lost function of my tongue.
“You make me feel alive, Mateo. More than I ever have in the last few years. I didn’t think I would ever feel safe enough to desire a relationship with someone, but I want it with you.”
A lopsided grin forms on my face. “Well, that’s good,” I say, trailing my thumb along her jaw. “Because I told my abuela about us.”
“What?”
“Don’t freak out.” The look on her face tells me that’s the wrong response, but I tell her everything, and she’s known about Charlie since the day we met and I spent the entire dinner talking about her.
My abuela has pestered me relentlessly to tell her how I feel. She was obviously my first call post-confession.
“It’s fine,” I continue, “she’s known about you for a long time. We talk about you a lot.” Her face pales, and I scramble to backtrack. “Because I like you!”
“Oh, well, okay.” The apples of her cheeks blossom into a cherry shade, giving away her feelings on the matter. “She’s probably cooler than you, anyway.”
Her cockiness falls away when I steal it with a kiss. She melts into me, her arms dragging me closer and legs wrapping around my thighs like a boa constrictor. The energy in the air heats, crackling with electricity as Charlie’s tongue drags along the seam of my lips.
A request.
I give in to her immediately.
Should we be making out in the middle of the lab? Absolutely not.
It goes against probably a million safety protocols, but I would be a liar if I said I never imagined this.
Her hands drag up my back, beneath my shirt, and I hiss from her cold fingers. Jesus, that is not normal. I release my grip from her hips to peel her hands off my body.
“Your fingers are ice cubes,” I mumble between the kiss. She presses them into my skin, huffing a laugh when I jerk away.
She suppresses a yawn, but another quickly follows.
“What time did you wake up this morning?” I ask, lifting her from the benchtop.
My hands linger after she’s on solid ground, my palm resting against her lower back.
“Around six,” she boasts as I guide her out of the lab before anyone catches us in an unbecoming situation. “I snuck out, and you didn’t even move.” She pauses to stick her tongue out of her mouth and roll her eyes to the back of her head. “You weredead.If your CPAP machine wasn’t making noise, I would have been concerned.”
She yawns again, and I change course toward the room. It’s time for bed or else waking her up tomorrow will be a battle. She makes no protest about skipping the movie as we slip into the cabin and wordlessly settle into our nightly routine. As she occupies the bathroom, I move all of her trinkets half an inch to the left, snickering to myself.
We may be in a relationship—saying that feels like a fever dream—but I’m not going to waste an opportunity to mess with her a little.
Charlie steps into the room, and I refuse to look at her because I’ll give myself away, so I slip into the bathroom and wait by the door. I hear a quiet “God damnit, Mateo,” followed by a louder “Stop messing with my shit, cariño!”
I peek my head out of the door. “You called me cariño,” I sing.
“In this case, its translation is annoying asshole.”
She huffs, dropping onto the bed, but a smirk breaks through when I wink.
I undress, and Charlie’s gaze scorches my skin as I move around the cabin. Her adorable strawberry pajamas bunch up as she pulls her legs to her chest and rests her cheek on her knees.
“Are you ever going to tell me what it means?” she asks, gesturing at the phrase tattooed on my thigh.
