Page 129 of Hate You, Maybe
I blink at him, taking in the sincerity of his words. “To be honest, I’m not sure I know what that looks like. My mom was never able to handle her air. And I just watched ten hours of romcom couples falling in love, but that’s fiction. In real life, people exhale. They fall out of love. Or they get bored. Or they leave.”
“First of all, you are the furthest thing from boring, Sayla Kroft.”
I smile at him weakly. “High praise.”
“Also?” He runs his thumb along the side of my hand, slowly. Gently. “I thought I lost you twice already, and both times took me to my knees. I couldn’t even breathe, imagining you gone. So I’m never leaving you. Not if you’ll let me stay.”
“But.” My breath catches. “If you do stay, you’ll find out what a mess I am.”
“Newsflash, Kroft.” His mouth twitches. “I’m a mess, too. We both are. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t worth fighting for.” He reaches out to touch a spot on my chin—I knew I still had zit cream on—then he slides his hand up to caress the spot around my bandage.
I don’t even want to think about what my hair looks like, because he’s being so tender. So kind. So completely … Dex. And for some reason, I trust him. I believe he means what he says. That we might be messy, but that doesn’t mean we’re not worthy. So in this moment, without any lists or clipboards to anchor me, I let myself fall for Dexter Michaels.
Chapter Forty
Reasons Why Dexter Michaels
is the Actual Best:
(you know I had to)
He came to get me from Tequila Mockingbird when I was … fragile.
He stayed with me when I begged him to. And he slept in a chair.
He killed it directing Shakespeare, but he let ME give the speech to the SACSS.
He’s friends with Bridger, and Bridger’s pretty great. (See also: Apple cider donuts and soup work miracles. Bridger might need his own list.)
He reenactedSay Anything. For me.
He makes me feel (almost completely) safe, and he’s okay with the part of me that’s still not sure.
