Page 161 of Fake As Puck
“Liv,” he breathes, taking me all in.
I point my toe at his pants. “Take these off.”
He listens, throwing them with mine.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says, leaning down and kissing me.
This time he doesn’t take it slow. He shows me how much he doesn’t believe I’m here as if I’m going to slip away. He unhooks my bra and kisses my chest until I’m moaning into the night sky. I grab him through his boxers, excited that we finally get to touch each other again. We’re watching each other, seeking permission through body language. He pulls my thong to the side and feels how wet I am.
“Liv,” he moans into my mouth.
I tug his boxers down, taking his full length into my hands. “West,” I say, clenching. I pull him towards me and nod.
With my thong still to the side, he presses against me, and my entire body heats. He pushes into me, and I arch into him, moaning his name.
He works his hips, thrusting into me. He’s holding my shoulders to keep me in place. It’s hungry, starving, and everything I didn’t know I needed.
When he makes me come, he follows right after. And then before I know it, I’m falling asleep in his arms.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this kind of happiness, but everything in this moment is perfect, and I pray that it stays this way.
He kisses my hair, and I lean into him, allowing my exhaustion to take over.
The U-Haul looks smaller in the morning light, but it still takes us three hours to unload everything.
Three hours of carrying boxes labeled “Books” and “Kitchen Stuff” and “Random Junk I Couldn’t Throw Away.” Three hours of West insisting he can carry the heavy boxes while I remind him that I drove a moving truck across three states and I’m perfectly capable of lifting things.
Three hours of making space.
His closet suddenly has my dresses hanging next to his button-downs. My books find homes on his shelves between his hockey biographies and investment guides. The chipped coffee mug from college that I refuse to throw away sits in his cabinet next to his matching set of everything.
“This is so weird,” I say, stepping back to admire our merged bathroom counter.
“What?”
“Just look.” I point ahead.
My toiletries scattered among his. My toothbrush in the holder next to his. My hair products taking up half the shower shelf he’s never had to share before.
It looks like two people live here now.
It looks like home.
“I like it,” West says, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “I like seeing your stuff everywhere.”
“Even my terrible organizational system?”
“Especially your terrible organizational system.”
I lean back against his chest and look around the bathroom that’s now ours. At the evidence of our life together, mundane and perfect and real.
“I can’t believe I actually did this,” I say.
He turns my chin to kiss him.
I continue between kisses. “I broke my lease. I said bye to my parents. I drove over seventeen hours to move in with my boyfriend. And I did all of that without telling you.”
“Regrets?”
