Page 85 of Glad You Exist

I barely dated and when I did, it didn't feel right. This is thewhy.

I hid in my room because nothing felt safe until he was back in my life.

Until I was back in his.

He is home. My safe space. My haven. My refuge.

I see him and instantly, I know I'm safe. I know I’m home.

"El? El? Are you okay?"

I blink and realize I'm already standing on the steps leading to the driveway. Brad is standing next to his car, looking up at me. He’s down there carrying my backpack and prom dress while I stand up here lost in the truths that have hit me.

Brad sees something in my eyes that has him quickly placing my things in his car.

He slowly makes his way back to me searching my eyes, because he knows me well enough to sense something’s happening.

He doesn’t stop until he’s two steps down and were at eye level.

He hesitates for half a second before grazing a finger across my cheek.

"Talk to me."

He’s whispering like he doesn’t want to interrupt but needs to know I’m okay.

My heart is racing as I stare back at him void of hesitation.

"You said I need time to see you."

Brad’s eyes widen a fraction, hope stirring beneath his gaze. He visibly swallows and nods. He’s afraid to break this moment.

But I’m not afraid. For the first time in a long time fear isn’t running a course through me.

I let my fingers touch his chest then I slide them up to loop around his neck.

I keep my gaze steady and locked on his.

"I've always been yours too."

I close the distance between us. I finally kiss him like I've always wanted to but never knew it.

I throw every unspoken feeling and emotion I feel for him into it. Hoping he understands just how much he means to me.

I feel his warm hands grip my waist tenderly then tighter with possession.

With a low groan, he angles his head and takes over, pulling my body flush against his.

Hot damn.

He’s been holding out on me.

If I thought yesterday's kisses were something, I was sorely mistaken.

The first time he kissed me, it was sweet, soft, and slow.

Then when we came back together that second time around, it was fast and hungry like we were both trying to desperately soothe an ache.

But those kisses have nothing on this one. If those kisses were something poets write about… Well, this kiss—this kiss is what romance novels are written about.

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