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“That’s a very rational suggestion,” she finally says, a smile teasing at her lips. “Usually I’m the rational one around these parts.”
I smile as I draw her closer. “Usually I’m the impulsive one. We must be rubbing off on each other. Sorry you’re getting the bum end of the deal.”
“I’m not. I like being more impulsive.” She rests her hands on my chest, rubbing her fingers back and forth in an affectionate caress that makes my heart squeeze. “And I like you.”
“And I like you,” I echo, but my tongue feels stiff in my mouth, the way it always does when I’m telling a lie.
I don’t just like her. This is so much more than like, this feeling that makes my chest ache with strange pleasure-pain every time I think about Melody March. Pleasure because by her side is the only place I want to be, and pain because we’re still forced to spend way too much time apart. Each night without her in my bed is more miserable than the one before, and every morning without her face being the first thing I see feels…emptier.
It’s getting ridiculous, and I’m sick of pretending that dating her is enough.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I lie, my tongue slipping out to dampen my lips. This isn’t the perfect moment to ask a big question like this, but will there ever be a perfect moment? And if Melody says “no,” then it will prove we’re not on the same page and maybe the big talk with her family can wait.
Or be avoided entirely.
If we’re not both seriously committed to this, is it worth fighting for?
“You have a weird look on your face,” she says, studying me out of the corners of her eyes. “We don’t have to go in. It’s okay to change your—”
“I want you to move in with me,” I say, the tension in my throat easing as I stop fighting the words.
Melody’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say a word, so I hurry on, filling the silence—
“I already talked to John about the possibility the other day, and he’s cool with another roommate. And it would save us both a lot of money, and I can pay to get the oven fixed because I know you love to cook. And I… I just…” I take a breath, ignoring the dizzy feeling making my head spin as I force myself to put it all out there. “I don’t want to wake up without you anymore. I don’t feel right when you’re not around. It’s like something’s missing, and that something is you, and I just… I’m…”
I close my eyes for a moment, willing myself to man the fuck up before I open them and confess, “I think I’m in love with you, Mel. And I want to be with you all the time. So…there.”
Her stunned expression lasts for another beat, just long enough for my heart to start shriveling behind my ribs, before she smiles a dazzling smile and says, “I think I’m in love with you, too.”
My breath rushes out. “You do?”
“I do.” She cups my face in her hands. “Honestly, there’s no ‘think’ about it for me. I am in love with you, and I would love to move in, but I have to say no. My family would really flip if I moved in with two boys, neither of whom I’m even engaged to marry. And I don’t want to give them another reason to fight me about this.”
My spirits sag but only a little. Melody loves me—she loves me, and I love her, and as long as that’s true, I doubt I’m capable of being too upset about anything.
“I get it.” I press a kiss to her palm. “I remember what you said about Lark and Mason. I should have thought of that before I asked.”
Her fingers slide into my hair as she presses closer, standing on tiptoe until our noses brush. “I’m glad you didn’t,” she whispers. “I like hearing how much you want me with you.”
“Every second of every day.”
“Does that mean you’ll finally admit that our five dates are up?” she asks, her breath warm and sweet against my lips.
For the past week, I’ve been arguing that some of our dates shouldn’t count toward the final tally. For the first time in my life, I’m doing my best to postpone sleeping with a girl instead of rushing to the bedroom as soon as she gives me the green light. I just want our first time together—her first time, ever—to be perfect.
Being able to tell her I love her while kissing every inch of her gorgeous body will certainly go a long way to making “perfect” more possible.
“I could be convinced that the dates are up,” I say, trying not to think too much about getting naked with her. I don’t want to be sporting a hard-on when I meet her already disapproving parents. “How about this—we go inside and do our best with your family, then we go out for a drink, decompress, and set a date?”
