Page 87 of Fake Crown

I crack open the box, and inside is a swimmer charm for the dangly bracelet I wear almost every day. My parents bought it for me when I left Bellerive, and I’ve been very selective about the charms I put on it. They have to mean something.

“Posey Jensen, will you be my girlfriend?”

I slip the charm out and hold it in my palm. Everything sings in me at the realization that we’re embarking on a real relationship. Tears prick at my eyes, and when I look at him, I’m all watery inside.

“Yes,” I say. “It’s a definite yes.”

He rises from the table, and he comes around to draw me into a hug. I cling onto him with the charm clenched in my hand.

“This might get complicated, though,” I say. “I’m in my last year of college, but you’ve got more of your MA, and I want to go home, and—”

“We can figure it out. We’re both independent people. That’s one of the things I love. We can have our own things, and we can have each other too.”

That sounds great in theory—really, really great—but I’ve never missed anyone the way I’ve missed him when we’re not together. I can’t imagine having him in my life full-time until college ends and then getting on a plane out of here, not being sure if we’ll work out.

Brent

It’s been weeks since Val removed or locked her content smearing me and Posey, and since she stopped putting us on broadcast, our socials have quieted. Maybe other people would have wanted revenge, but Posey and I just wanted it to stop. Keeping on top of the mean comments isn’t a part-time job anymore, and I’m grateful for that.

Slipping into a familiar routine with Posey has been easy. On nights when I have early-morning practice the next day, I sleep at hers. Others, when I have dryland training in the morning, we sleep at mine. In between classes, coursework, and practices, we squeeze out every moment of time we can together. I’ve never craved another person’s company like I do hers.

Despite my bravado over the long-distance relationship looming ahead of us, I have no idea how I’m going to cope. I’ve already contacted the head coach of the biggest swim team in Bellerive to see whether it’s possible for me to train there sporadically whenever I need a Posey fix. From what I’ve been able to determine online, the island has decent facilities, and my coach has encouraged me to have a life beyond swimming. We can make this work. I just have to keep telling myself that.

The final year before the Olympics, my flexibility will change as my training ramps up. At this point, I don’t know what I’d do if I had to choose between keeping Posey and going after my swimming goals.

We haven’t exchanged the L-word, but it’s getting harder and harder to hold it in when we’re together. Every time I lay eyes on her, the torrent of emotion takes me by surprise, and I have to consciously watch what I say. We’ve both danced around the truth. Instead of saying we love each other, we’ll talk about qualities we love in one another or things we love about us as a couple. Baby steps. Inching her toward the magical reveal.

Surprise! You don’t just love all those things. You actually love me too.

I’ve never been in love with someone before, so I get how easy it is to freak out about how big this feels. She’ll be ready to admit it when she’s ready.

There’s a knock on my apartment door, and I open it to find Posey with two pizza boxes, a six-pack of beer, and a huge smile.

“One Netflix-and-chill session at your request. Emphasis on the chill.” She waggles her brows, and she slides the pizzas onto the island.

I take the beer from her hand, and I deposit it into the fridge. “What are you making me watch tonight?”

She gets a plate out of the cupboard for herself. A plate is pointless for me. I’ll eat a whole pizza myself and probably steal some of hers. I give her a kiss on the temple before grabbing my box to take a seat on the couch.

She plops down beside me and snags the remote off the coffee table. Lately we’ve been on a Veronica Mars binge. Prickly, sarcastic heroine who fears love. Seems about right.

“More teen angst,” I say as she clicks through to the newest episode.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it,” she says.

“I might love it a little bit.” She turns to look at me, and our gazes catch.

“Just a bit?”

The air grows thick around us, and I’m surprised she’s the one inching us further tonight. Normally, I’m the one prodding her forward, but there’s something in her brown eyes that makes me think I can take a chance. When we’ve danced around the L-word before, she’s laughed off any tension, but she’s riding it tonight. Not a single flutter of hesitation in her expression or posture. A cool sweat breaks out under my arms.

“What if I said a lot?” I watch her carefully. “Would that freak you out?”

She bites her lip. “No...because I think I might love it a lot too.”

I slide the pizza box onto the coffee table, and I take her plate and set it on top. Then I thread my fingers through her hair, and I kiss her. In a minute, I’m going to take a bigger risk, but I have to get her primed first. As I lay her back into the couch cushions, I cradle her, and her hands are already tugging at my shirt.

“Babe,” I murmur against her lips. “Can I tell you something?”