Oh God.
Why do I have to be such a chicken shit?
“Because I loved you first,” he says, sounding so cocky.
My jaw drops. “Nuh-uh!”
Chin to the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut, Luc laughs wildly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so happy. It would be adorable if I didn’t want to punch him. Only because I feel like an idiot.
Laughing, he rolls on top of me, pushing me onto my back. I feel his laughter everywhere. And maybe I don’t want to punch him anymore, but I bury my face in the crook of his neck, still embarrassed.
“Nuh—”He cracks up again.“Nuh-uh?Wha… What does that mean?”
I growl, but it sounds more like grinding gears on a garbage truck. Luc has fits all over again. His arms slide under my back, and he squeezes me so tight.
I don’t want it to, but it feels so good.
I squeeze him back and bite the bullet. “It meansIlovedyoufirst,” I say into his shoulder.
He makes a humming sound I adore, ducks his head, and searches for my mouth. I turn to meet his kiss, but he doesn’t linger.
“Not possible. I wanted to take you home at the soccer game. The first time I saw you in the stands.”
I shake my head. “I saw you first, walking with your dad and your grandma. It was so cute.” I force myself to look up at him. “You looked so big and strong and gentle at the same time. I had to make myself stop looking at you.”
His dimples are shining down on me now. I reach up with both hands and palm them. “These were my undoing.”
“What?” he asks, frowning just a little.
“Les Dimples.”
He laughs again.“Les Dimples?I don’t think that’s technically French.” He’s smiling above me. His happiness is so big. It’s so big, it tugs at my happiness. Asking for it to come out and play. But I can’t let it go.
“Millie?”
“Yeah?”
His smile softens and he squeezes me again. “I love you.”
My whole body tenses. I know he feels it, but he doesn’t stop smiling.
“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to say it back.”
“Oh, God, Luc.”
I love you. I love you so much.
Why can’t I just say it? I can say I loved him first. I can say I’m loving what’s mine. Why can’t I just sayI love you?
What if I give him my heart and he leaves me? Or worse?
For a moment, I think of my mother. Of what I can only believe was the last decision she ever made. To jump into that water and go after my father.
This feels like just as big of a leap—and maybe one that will be just as doomed.
“Millie. I get it,” he says, looking peaceful. “I already know.”
I blink. “You do?”
