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“You can talk now.”
He smiles, easing me back to his lap. “Yeah. I’m not sure I could ever give you up again.”
I touch my forehead to his, not knowing what I would do without him. I hate that he stopped writing. I hate that he pretended to be Masen. But I’m so glad we’re here.
I just really hate that it was his sister’s death that brought him here.
“I understand why you stopped writing and why you came here to get away, but…” I look him in the eyes. “Why did you enroll at school? If it wasn’t for me, what was it for?”
He shakes his head, letting out a breath. “Nothing.”
“Misha.”
“Really, it was nothing,” he tells me, cutting me off. “I thought I had another reason to be here, someone who I used to know, but no. It was dumb, and I feel stupid. I shouldn’t have come.” And then he smiles, wrapping his arms around me. “But I’m not sorry I did.”
I cock my head, aggravated. He’s being cagey again.
“I love you,” he says. “That’s all that matters.”
And he looks so calm and happy, I don’t want to ruin it. I take in a deep breath and relax into him. “Can I have the scarf back?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you,” I say, my fingers tingling as my heartbeat picks up.
His fingers grip my waist. “It about fucking time.”
I breathe out a laugh, kissing him. He’s always gotta bust my chops.
“And I think it’s about time I met your mom,” he states.
“Ugh, do we have to?” I trail kisses over his cheek and down his neck, more interested in something else right now.
“You think she won’t like me?”
I sigh, looking back up at him. My mom is lovely, but she’s strict. Seeing me in love and giddy and everything, her first concern will be making sure I don’t blow off college to get married.
“Well, you are the grandson of a senator, I guess,” I tell him. “Can we lead with that?”
He snorts, shaking his head at me. I guess that’s a no.
“Okay, fine,” I snip. “But afterwards, I have a favor to ask.”
“Ask me now.”
“Eh,” I cage. “I’ll tell you in the truck. It’s kind of illegal.”
I pick up the small duffel and hear the clank of a few cans inside. Well, I guess it’s better than it was. I don’t want to alert my family when I take it downstairs, so I’ve wrapped the cans in some clothes, hoping to drown out the sound.
Tonight is my final little foray, and Misha is helping. Only this time, I have no guilt about it. We’re rebels with a reason.
Okay, a little reason, at least.
Checking myself in the mirror one last time, I grab the bag and hear the doorbell ring, smiling. He’s here.
Leaving my room, I lift the hem of my dress as I step down the stairs. My mom and sister are camped out in the living room, huddled around a bowl of popcorn and scary movies tonight, but really, they’re just waiting to see Misha again.
When I brought him home last week, my mom immediately liked him. A lot. Especially with our history. She knows how much Misha means to me, and to finally meet him was incredible.
