Page 175 of Falling Backwards
“Maybe—maybe we do,” his soft stammer cuts through.
My exhale is shaky, and so is the breath he takes in.
He says, “Maybe we finally put up a wall between then and now.”He swallows hard and finally shifts his thumb off my lip, brushing my jawline instead.“I don’t wanna keep going back there.I wanna stay here.”
My nod comes easily.
He nods too.“I want a do-over with you, and I want this to be the start of it.”
Except is it a real do-over if we don’t try to fix what’s broken?
As I breathe, it feels like the air crackles in my lungs, too, not just around us.For the most part, I love the way it feels…but….
The warm part of me refuses,No, there’s no‘but.’Don’t overthink this to death, girl.Just live in it.
Luke touches his forehead to mine and further chases the unwelcome feelings away.I chase that touch right back and know this is what I prefer: this Luke, now, here.There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with him.It’s just like what he said about wanting whoIam now; I don’t want the past to darken any of what we’ve found ourselves in these days.
I want all of our happiness, not our unhappiness.
To hell with those uneasy protests in my head, right?If he and I are in agreement about what to do, then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?
I move my lips to the corner of his and leave my own unsteady truth there: “I feel the exact same way.”
His sigh is slow and warm.It loosens his muscles a bit.
The next few seconds are quiet, and then he just barely whispers, “Thank you.”
A response I wasn’t really expecting.I thought maybe he’d smile or cuss appreciatively or even just kiss me again.
But it’s perfect, I realize, this thing he’s said.It’s as honest as any of those other things would’ve been—and actually, it somehow seems even more so.
I find myself whispering back, “Thankyou.” And after a heartbeat: “You really do make me happy, Luke.Shockingly, stupidly, sincerely happy.”
He inhales that and shifts back enough to look at me, allowing me to memorize how soft it turns him.What it does to his eyes, his brow, the corners of his lips.
Soft Luke is so beautiful it kind of hurts.
“That’s how happy you make me,” he says.“It doesn’t make any sense.”
We huff into feather-light laughter.
“No, it doesn’t,” I agree.
He licks at his lips, then amends, “Except it does, huh?”His brow furrows now as his eyes drift to my eyebrow scar, I think, and the rest of my face, and where he takes some of my hair between his fingers.
And even without him trying to explain, I know what he means.We made sense from the very beginning.
Just as easily as moments ago, I agree again, “Yeah.”
Something about that puts a tiny sting behind my eyes.
Not wanting to cry right now, I refocus on something from a minute ago.I move my hands and smooth them down the front of his hoodie, notice that I can feel his heartbeat right through the fabric of it and his shirt.
Another thing I want an infinite supply of: feeling that.
And feeling one of his hands curling around mine, holding it to his chest.
And feeling warm all over and all through from the simple way he tips half a smile at me.
