Page 119 of Deep In Love
She’s acting insane, but I don’t want to ruin this for her. Anyone can see she’s nervous as hell, and I know how much this moment means to her, but does she really need to catapult me into the chair?
Asking me to sit down like a good boy would work just fine.
“Enjoying the view?” I tease.
Charlie stands rigid in front of me, wringing her hands as she stares at me. She looks away momentarily, offering a side view of her face as she mumbles something to herself.
I would bet a hundred dollars she asked what Darwin would do.
Her eyes glow beneath the starlight when she turns back to face me. She unfolds a crumpled piece of paper, clearing her throat.
“I have something I would like to say, but you can’t cut me off.” She gives me a serious look, and the bottom edge of her scar wrinkles.
Fuck, she’s hot.
This seems like an inappropriate time to sport a boner.
I know she’s referring to when I cut off her last attempt at a confession, but it led to this moment, and I won’t apologize for that.
“So bossy,” I mutter, gnawing at my lip to fight a smile.
This is a serious moment, and no matter how adorable she looks with her crinkled paper, I’m not going to laugh.
“I used to call you Satan,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “Sometimes I’m still convinced. I mean, who wears long sleeves in the summer?” She pauses, reviewing her words, and I let her work through her thoughts.Pot meet kettle. “Disregard my last comment.”
“Completely forgotten.”
My lip twitches.
“There’s something so…infuriating about the way you steal my attention, but I don’t—”
“Hey, what are you guys—”
Charlie whirls, glaring at Jett, who’s making his way over to us. I try to signal for him to run the fuck away, but he misses it and gains ground.
“Go away,” she screams, the paper receiving the brunt force of her grip. Jett gives me a confused look but runs back down the stairs without another word. I try to cover my laugh with a cough, but it’s futile.
This is the best—and worst—confession I’ve ever been a part of, and only weeks ago, Charlie stomped into the bathroom and told me I smell like a summer’s breeze.
“This is going horribly,” she grumbles.
“You’re doing amazing.” I reach out to smooth a hand down her thigh. Her muscles relax, and she straightens her shoulders. “Keep going.”
She smooths out the paper once more.
“I would spend a lot of time thinking about you.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Like how to assert my academic dominance and how to ensure you would have a horrible hair day.” That’s a lot less sweet. “I’ve spenta lotof time thinking about your hair. Big fan now.”
Her confidence gains with every word, but now I have a sliver of trepidation.
“I spent a lot of time thinking about you, Mateo, but I neversawyou. And that will always be my greatest mistake.” She sniffles as she focuses on the paper. “I never knew the best thing to ever happen to me was sitting across from me every day, leaving me chocolate and humming songs.”
She drops onto the edge of the chair and takes my head between her hands, tears streaming down her face. The monologue she wrote is forgotten, and the moment shifts into something tender.
Tears burn at the corners of my eyes as her thumbs trace my cheekbones.
