Page 139 of Falling Backwards
Her hand in mine.
Her laughter.
Her eyes looking over me with liking she can’t hide.
Her plans for the future.
Her random conversation topics.
Her late nights and first-thing-in-the-mornings.
And…more.
She gets under my skin and I haven’t known how to stop it, but now I don’t think I even want to anymore.More and more all the time, it feels like under my skin—so close I can’t shake her—is exactly where she belongs.
These things are all I can think about while I finally shower with intention, and while I get dressed, and while I head to her apartment to pick her up for our walk.
I do still check for Kyle’s unwelcome presence when I get here.I do still feel pleased that there’s no sign of him and freshly angry over his audacity from yesterday—I can’t believe my recent random mental scenario came true and he really asked someone for her address so he can send flowers….But even he doesn’t stay on my mind for long.
I’m soon outside Maggie’s door, damn near trembling with readiness and nervousness and longing because I have never wanted a hug so intensely—not even when I was young and wrought with sorrow.
She answers my knock with a sweet-voiced, “Hi,” and a green gaze that’s visibly happy to be landing on me.
The tension comes back to my throat, constricting enough to keep me from being able to echo her greeting.
So I just step forwards, take her shoulders, drag her into me, and wrap my arms around her.
I feel her soft gasp as much as I hear it, as much as I register her soft curves all against me, as much as I smell the lightly luscious scent of the soft hair I’m helplessly turning my face into.
Then her arms are around me too—around my waist, locking me in right back.
God.
My God, it’sexactly right.
Between the emotion-driven tightness in my throat and how it feels to have her body pressed to mine, I have a hard time getting a good breath.
At length, I find my voice and tell her, “Thank you.”
Her slow sigh against the front of my hoodie spreads through it and my shirt and warms my chest, and I try to hide my slight shiver with a tighter squeeze of her in my arms.
She squeezes me back and I instantly wish she wouldn’t stop.
But of course she does, and she replies, “Thank you too.”
I don’t seem to need to explain my thanks.Guess it’s obvious that her over-the-phone words have meant a lot to me.
She doesn’t need to explain herself either.I know she’s grateful for the time I’ve spent with her lately.
And I’m going to choose to believe she’s grateful for this hug as well, just like I am, because she still hasn’t let go of me or tried to inch back.
“Luke?”leaves her now.It sounds like her tone has shifted towards hesitation—uncertainty, maybe—though her embrace doesn’t falter accordingly.She keeps hanging on to me, keeps her face next to my chest.
I don’t mean to whisper, “Yeah?”but that’s how it comes out.
Please don’t make me let go of you.I don’t want us to let go of each other again.
The silent pleas both surprise me and feel as natural as if I’ve thought them at her a thousand times.
