Page 61 of The List of Things

“You’re going to ruin me if you keep it up.”

I can’t help but let my smile show.

“Don’t boost my ego too much,” I joke, and he nudges my chin up again so I’m looking at him.

He wipes under my eyes, taking the very small bit of tears that slipped out, “Are you alright?”

I’m confused by the question at first, “Yes... Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know… That’s why I asked. I was just checking. Just making sure you’re okay. That everything is okay. You’re fine? That was fine?” He asks, and I nod.

“I started it. I wanted to,” I remind him.

“I know that. But sometimes people change their mind or do things, and regret it. Sometimes things are too much, and I just wanted to make sure.”

I feel that same warm feeling in my chest that makes me want to take his clothes off. I’m not sure why that’s my first instinct when I get mushy feelings in my chest, but it is.

I just stare at him, words lost in my throat at what to say.

“Come on, I think I should take the wrap off of your tattoo, it’s been over an hour,” He tells me, and I look at his. “Mine stays on for a few days. it’s in a sensitive place. It’s like a second skin, yours comes off now since your tattoo is smaller, and in a more covered spot. Come on.” He nods his head to my bathroom, and I follow him, my mind still spinning at his concern for me, and his understanding of my wants, needs, and consent. That’s a normal thing to care about but it’s not something most people do.

He walks me into my bathroom, and grabs my hips, placing me on top of my counter. He holds my arm out, taking concern over my tattoo before his own. He unwraps the plastic around it, and I feel a little sting as the air hits the sensitive skin. I look at him, watching as he takes care of my tattoo like it’s the most important thing in the world to him at this moment. My chest is warm at the sight, and I think of this, doing this with him, on the field, or off the field. Wrapping his wrists like I had the other day or taking care of him when he needs it before a game. I think of next year. I just think of him, and us, and this.

“What happens next year?” I hate asking.

I hate sounding desperate, but I shouldn’t keep these thoughts to myself.

“What do you mean?” He grabs a washcloth from the counter and wets it under the faucet.

“With us, after all of this fake dating… and the sex, and everything else?”

“Um... I don’t know. We don’t have to speak if that’s what you want. Or we can do whatever... Whatever is easiest for you.”

It feels like the question makes him uncomfortable right away. He’s hard to read sometimes. Right now is one of those times.

“What do you want?”

“Um... I don’t want to not speak to you. I really like talking to you, and hanging out with you… I like being around you. Take away the sex part, and all the making out, and I think we might be really, really good friends... I don’t know.”

Instant relief washes over me, “I’d like that too. I feel the same.”

“So we can be friends... After all of this, we can settle on friends.”

I nod, knowing that’s exactly what I want. I think not having Bellamy to be around every now and again would be hard for me. I’ve only ever genuinely spent time with him this week, and I love it far more than I thought I would. He’s good company. He’s a good person. Friends is a word that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Kissing him is fun. I’m sure sex would be even better. But friends is... It’s fine.

“Good...” I agree, making it apparent to him that I’m on the same page.

But inwardly, it feels like I might not even be reading the same book.

I have no idea why either.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

CEILINGS BY LIZZY MCALPINE

I run as quicklyas I can from the front of my apartment building, knowing Bellamy expects me to be upstairs half dressed. Not this time. Before he left my apartment last time I forced him into sharing his location with me, and I did the same, that way we could keep track for the next week or so. We’ll be spending almost every second together but still. I watched his little avatar on my phone move closer to my apartment so I rushed, mostly because I knew where we were going tonight.

I run up to the car and grab the door, open it, and jump inside the beat up Jeep. Bell watches me from outside of the car, having just stepped out. He stares for a second, everything finally clicking in his head. He shakes his head, a grin on his lips.

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