“Please,” he whispers.
And of course I will. In any room. On any day. To any song. But to this one, especially.
I place my hand in his and let him lift me to my feet. I don’t look at him when he pulls me to his chest. I just hide, rightagainst his body, which has always been my favourite shield. He gently winds his fingers around mine, his other hand sliding completely around my waist to tuck me in close.
My eyes flutter shut. I melt, and all the pain and heartbreak that comes with losing him takes over. I don’t know what this means. I don’t know where we stand, or why he’s here, buthe’s here. He’s speaking to me, touching me, choosing to dance with me in an empty living room to The Goo Goo Dolls. The rest of it won’t matter. I won’t let it. Not for the duration of this song. I just want it to be him and me, this melody, and everything that could have been. At least for now.
I feel Boston’s heartbeat against my body. It’s beating even faster than mine. I rest my head there, just for a moment, imagining what it would be like for this spot to become my personal real estate, somewhere I’m allowed to lay my head every night. I’d never sell. It would be my home until I took my last breath.
Boston slides his hand from mine and winds both of them around my body instead. My stomach swoops and I hurriedly reach for him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him close until we’re no longer dancing, we’re just hugging. Holding. Remembering.
“I regret a lot of things in my life,” he murmurs softly, right next to my ear, “but driving you home when you asked me to is what I regret the most.”
I slide my fingers through his hair. His fragmented breath makes my heart flutter.
“I was…scared, I think. I knew that if I didn’t, it was real, and we’d have to have that conversation with your brother. I’d have to quickly figure out what kind of man I want to be. What kind of man I am capable of being,and I didn’t want to have to make you wait while I sorted it out.”
My hands are shaking. I know he feels it against his neck, especially when he squeezes me tighter against him.
“I knew then, though, and I still took you home. I still said nothing. I’m…trying to be braver. Like you.Foryou.” He lets out a little breath, his hand gliding up my back. “I don’t know if I can be the man that you need me to be, Ari, but I want to try. If you’ll give me another chance, I’m going to try my fucking hardest to be someone who deserves you.”
My eyes are stinging. I slowly pull back, searching his face. “You want to bewith me?”
His throat bobs. “In every possible way.”
A tear slips down my cheek and his eyes track it, his expression softening. He reaches up and cups my face, brushing it away with a stroke of his thumb. I lean gently into his touch, treasuring it.
He wants to be with me.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. My brother might not like it.”
He grins, shaking his head as he cups my face with both hands. “Shut up and kiss me, Ari.”
I do.
Oh boy, I do.
I push myself up on my toes and gently press my mouth to his. His grip is tight on my face, like he’s determined to keep us together this time, like he won’t have it any other way. I slide my hands down his chest as he deepens the kiss. All the swear words that I know run through my mind at the feeling of him, the taste of him. Familiar and wanted. My heart aches with fulfillment, remembering what it was missing, desperate not to miss it again.
Boston Black is the eighth wonder of the world. Mightier than any statue. Stronger than any pyramid. Brighter than any lighthouse. He takes your breath away, forces your eye, and makes you think. Makes you want to know more about him,in that poetic way that art and architecture does. He is to be marvelled at, and I will never stop.
I swear to you. I will never stop.
He pulls back, pressing his forehead to mine, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You gonna tell me again, sweetheart?”
I blink, running my tongue over my lip. His gaze drops to the movement. “Tell you what?”
“Those pretty words that I’ve been dying to hear.”
I meet his eyes. “I’m not sure what words you’re referring to.”
He smiles, happy to fall back into one of our little games. He kisses me, letting it linger, and he waits, just far enough away so I can’t kiss him again.
His throat bobs, stare burning into mine. He whispers, “Tell me.”
I suck in a small breath, feeling very vulnerable. Terrified.Safe. “I love you, Boston Black.”
The smile that hits his mouth then is so sweet that I feel like falling to my knees. I feel like crying. I feel like praying. It’s genuine happiness that I see there. Relief.
