Page 89 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“Jesus, there’s five of them?”

“Four books, five movies.”

Five movies is around ten hours of uninterrupted Lottie time. “It’s fine. We can watch them all,” I shrug, like I don’t care. Because honestly, I don’t. My heart is already racing in anticipation at getting to spend this time with her, one-on-one, just being together. It’s all I want right now—more than sex.

We make it two minutes into the movie before I laugh in her hair. “You’re so cute right now. You’re so into the movie. But don’t worry; I’m not judging.”

“The books were better,” she grumbles, cheeks reddening. “Though we’ve already had this discussion about book adaptations in general, haven’t we?”

“Yes.” I press a kiss to the top of her head, obsessed with everything about this moment. I’m in her space, holding her. She’s letting me take care of her while feeling safe enough to be vulnerable and share her guilty pleasure. Tonight feels like we aren’t expiration dating, don’t have this deadline or dagger being held over our heads. Tonight feels like it would if this were real. I’m on cloud nine and she has no idea.

“So are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?” I ask, midway through New Moon, her least favorite movie (“God, I hate and love them so much,” she’s repeated three times now.).

“Because this Jacob guy is coming on real strong. But isn’t Edward supposed to be the love of her human and eternal life or some shit? And why is Jacob always shirtless? When does Edward come back?”

“Whoa, okay.” She snorts, shifting in my arms. She pauses the movie and looks me straight in the eye. “Okay, you need to listen to me very closely. You will need to make up your own mind about which team you’re on. And not to put any pressure on you or anything, but this thing between us will immediately be over if you get it wrong. Because, despite what people say, there is a right and wrong answer.”

“Is there, now?” I smirk, fighting the urge to kiss her.

“Yes.”

I run my fingertips softly up and down her thighs. “Oh yeah?” Her cheeks flush, breathing speeds. “And you’re not gonna give me a hint on where you stand?” My eyes roam hungrily over her body, and even in her current state of loungewear—leggings, fuzzy socks, New York University oversized sweatshirt, messy bun, and glasses—I’ve never seen her look sexier.

Because she’s her. She’s Lottie. She’s letting me see her naked, even if she’s covered in layers.

“Stop that,” she whispers, her eyes closed.

“Sorry.” I pull my hand away immediately, slightly ashamed of myself. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable—especially since you’re in pain. I… I forgot.” I shrug, wincing at my lame excuse, even though it’s the truth.

“It’s not that. I’m not in as much pain anymore, thanks to you.” Her smile is soft, but it lances through my heart every goddamn time. And I’m sure I’ll never forget it, not if I live a thousand years. “I’m just… you know. And what you were doing…” She reaches out now, her fingers moving softly from the palm of my hand all the way to my inked forearms, tracing the lines of my tattoos. “It just felt really good.”

I smirk. “You know, in all my googling, it said orgasms were good for period cramps.”

She laughs awkwardly and looks away. “That’s nice, but I’m not into that.”

“Orgasms? Weird of you to say, since you look like you do whenever I give them to you.”

She rolls her eyes, her pink cheeks turning crimson. “I meant period sex,” she says in a low voice, terror in her tone.

I sputter a laugh. “Why are you making it sound like it’s something dirty or something? It’s completely normal.”

“Periods or period sex?”

“Both!”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Like I’ve just told her I love to eat my own boogers for breakfast or something gross like that.

“Maybe it’s a generational thing.” I shrug. “My people don’t care about shit like that.”

Lottie snorts and smiles fondly down at me before returning to her rightful place in my arms. I pull her closer into me as she makes herself comfortable on my chest. “Regardless, this old lady isn’t into it.”

“Okay, Lottie. Though orgasms aren’t limited to sex. There are other ways to get you off.”

She glares at me, shooting me down with a look. I chuckle and kiss the top of her head, inhaling her scent. “Let’s keep watching, then.” I squeeze her tightly and she hits play.

Lottie lasts only a few minutes into the third movie before she falls asleep. Gently, I remove her glasses and place them on her nightstand, turning off the light. I could leave now, but I don’t move an inch, letting her doze on my chest while I watch her. Soaking in every moment I get with her, memorizing the feel of her body against mine. I run my fingers through her hair as the tightness in my heart grows, the thought that I’ll have to leave soon, that as soon as we finish renovations and sell the store she’ll drop me like a hot potato, whether she stays or really does move back to New York. And me? I’ll go back to my lonely life as a nomad, taking pictures of other people’s lives, not living my own. Except…

Except it doesn’t have to be that way, does it?