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“I obviously don’t want to marry you, if you don’t want to marry me,” I say, those words almost a whisper under my breath, but he’s close enough to hear them.
He shakes his head. “Of course, you’re all I want, Willow, but that doesn’t change things.”
“What things?” I ask, my chest on fire.
“I’m the only guy you’ve ever kissed,” Garrison says. “I’m the only guy you’ve ever slept with. And, fuck, there’s a part of me that feels like I’m stealing you from experiencing…from doing…from…” He can’t finish. Anguish lances his face.
My hands tremble, and I don’t have the book to hold onto, so I hug my arms around myself. Holding on. Hold on.
“You’d want me to kiss other guys? To have sex with them?” The thought brings nothing but sickness and a pressure that compounds on my chest.
“Jesus, no. The thought of you kissing another guy…” He grimaces. “…I can’t even…” His face twists more, and then he reaches for my hand.
I let him take it. He doesn’t mention the trembling. He just laces our fingers together. It calms me for a second.
Garrison inhales. “All I’m saying is that I know you think I’m special because I understood that you didn’t like to be touched, and I waited…and was patient. But there are other guys who’d do the same. I’m not special. I’m not the only guy who’d fall in love with you.”
“Do you honestly believe I could fall in love with someone else?” My brows pinch, confused. So fucking confused. “You are special to me, Garrison. How can you not see that? It’s not just the touching. It’s who you are. Every part of you, even the parts you hate. I love those, too.”
He runs his thumb back and forth atop my hand. His eyes pin to mine, carrying more worries. “I can try to see it,” he tells me. “But I need to hear you say the other words, out loud. I just need to hear it, Willow.”
“Which ones?” I wonder.
“That you’re fine never knowing what it’ll be like to kiss another man. To have him touch you here.” He slides his free hand up my thigh, my leggings feeling thin under his palm. I breathe in, welcoming his touch, only his touch. His fingers are millimeters from my heat, but he stops short. “You’ll never know what it’s like to have another man’s fingers in you. Another man’s dick.” He says those words without shying, without breaking my gaze.
“Good,” I say in response.
“I need to hear you say it,” Garrison says. “Please.”
“I don’t want to know what someone else’s lips feel like,” I tell him. “I’m happy never knowing what another dick feels like. Looks like. Smells like—”
His lips lift with mine.
I continue, “I don’t want someone else’s fingers in me. I don’t want another set of eyes on my naked body. It literally makes my skin crawl even imagining these things. I only want you, and you’re worthy of me. Do you understand that?”
A tear slips down out of his eye, but he brushes it away as quickly as it came. “I’m sor—”
“And you can’t be sorry because I’m glad you’re making me do this. I’m glad this is happening, okay? We need to remain honest with each other. Always.”
His chest rises and falls heavily, and this is where we should reunite.
Kiss.
But tension still strains.
“What do you need from me?” Garrison asks, knowing he’s wedged an invisible force between us.
“I need you to tell me that you won’t leave me because you think you’re not good enough,” I say. “I need you to believe that you are. And maybe you can’t give me that now, but one day.”
“I won’t ever fucking leave you,” he tells me like those words are already cemented down.
But he’ll push me away, force me to be the one to leave him. I know this—it’s why the second part is so important.
“Do you believe that you’re good enough for me?”
“Have I ever believed that?” he counters.
No, I don’t think so.
I say, “Maybe you’re just forgetting that I’m not as great as you think.” I lower my voice. “Not only did I take money from my dad—which I said I’d never do—but I’m lying to Ryke and Lo about it. That’s not exactly Girl Scout levels of good.”
His lips lift into a big smile.
I pale. “What?”
“You’re cute,” he tells me. “You think lying to Ryke and Lo is this enormous crime against humanity, but it’s fucking normal. People lie. I’ve done a lot worse. You wanna compare?” He winds an arm around my shoulder, and his eyes ask, can I?
I nod.
And he tugs me onto his lap, my legs naturally spreading open and weaving around his waist. I hang onto his shoulders and ask, “How do you know I’ve never spray painted someone’s house? I could’ve had a rebellious streak back in Maine.”
