He smiles. “I love when you look in love with me.”
I fidget, reaching into my pocket to meddle with my crystal heart. “I take it you don’t actually have layouts of your previous schemes?”
“Nah, I worked alone. No reason to leave a paper trail.” He crosses his legs. “I can’t help but notice you’re avoiding discussing the relevant topic.”
Taking a deep breath, I fortify myself. Then I spill the truth that’s been bothering me ever since I mentioned an interest in partaking of romantic activities. “I’d like to kiss you in my blue dress at the Flag Day ball.”
He goes still. “That’s rather soon.”
“No tongue.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Well.” He pauses. “Woulddream of it. Wouldn’t dare.”
“I’m not hoping to enjoy it. I’d simply like to not throw up. I think that’s a reasonable first step in the right direction.” And the surrounding exuberance of the magical setting we’ve spent weeks crafting makes me think that Imightjust survive it, too.
Malcolm doesn’t submit. “I think the point of taking actually reasonable first steps is so that when we reach the one where we do kiss, throwing up isn’t a risk at all.”
I tuck myself in against the white sheet that protects me, mentally, from sitting here and mutter, “I never took you for one so full of blind optimism before.”
“Really? And here I thought that was all I’m known for.”
“You’re actually known for making grown men cry, regularly.”
His smile fades. “Still? I haven’t done that for at least a month.”
“You must miss it,” I croon.
“I prefer your tears, dove. I long to taste them straight from your skin.”
My heart trembles.
“Would you let me?”
Breathless, I say, “I don’t know if I’m ready for that module yet…but…maybe. Someday.”
Leaning in, inches from my face, he murmurs, “So…somedayyou still think I’ll be making you cry?”
“Won’t you?” I ask.
He smiles, and it’s beautiful, charming, andwicked. Gentle, he draws a finger down my cheek and says, “Only on purpose.”
It shouldn’t, but that makes me blush.
“Dove…” he asks
“What?” I murmur.
“Would you like to try falling asleepinmy arms tonight?”
I would. Ireallywould. I’ve spent the past few days waking up in them, so what’s the difference, right? I’ve survived.Nothing bad has happened. I should be able to do it. And if I have less than a month until I want to have my first kiss, advancing in the efforts that don’t involve my mouth makes sense.
The way I am is stupid, anyway. All my dumb rules are based in ancient trauma. I can overcome them. I need to. I want to.
“You don’t have to,” Malcolm says, and his nearness, his touch, his smile remain unchanged. “You know that, don’t you?”
I blink, and my eyes water.
He fixates on the building moisture, then whispers a swear. “I’ll love you no matter what.”
