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“I’ve never kissed anyone like that, for the record,” he assures me with an adorably earnest expression. “But my feelings are definitely in the ‘more than friends’ territory. I’d classify them as pining? Pax calls it my ‘puppy dog devotion.’ Whatever you want to go with.”
I press forward again, taking his face in my hand and kissing him soundly to shut him up. After losing ourselves for several more minutes, I slip back into my seat, turning my head toward him, laying it back on the headrest.
“I don’t want to take away from our friendship, because you’re the realest friend I’ve ever had.”
He tips his head toward me, against his own seat. “Okay.”
My stomach clenches at what I am about to say—what it will reveal. Case’s face is openly curious save for the little crinkle between his brows. The one that tells me he’s listening intently and committing himself all over again.
Over and over. He’s been so determined to be there. He’s winning me over, and that scares the living shit out of me. Six months ago, I would have never believed it possible. “And I feel like I’ve come to seriously depend on you. More than anyone else in my life, even.”
He doesn’t flinch. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
“We belong to each other,” I say. “Equal partners.” Rolling the words around on my tongue and testing them against the thumping of my heart.
“Is that okay? I mean, for simplicity’s sake, you can call me your boyfriend. If you want.”
“And you’ll call me your girlfriend?”
“Every chance I get.”
“I have something to tell you.”
“Yes,fine, we can go back to your obnoxious car and make out some more.”
Case chokes on the sip he was in the middle of swallowing, coughing and sputtering his drink down his front. Thankfully, we’re sitting outside and away from anything expensive, unless you count, oh, Maria’s entire house. Areallmy friends rich?
“You’re trouble.”
“Sorry,” I apologize and half-heartedly wipe at his front, trying not to be distracted by how warm and firm he feels under his T-shirt. “What were you going to say? I can be serious.”
“Can you?” he jokes. His eyes drift down to where I’m still feeling him up. I pull my hand back and grip it around a lukewarm beer bottle. Turns out, I don’t like the taste of beer. I sort of wish Mariahadbeen talking about water or lemonade.
It also turns out while I do like Maria and obviously, I’m crazy about Case, I prefer horses to people. Shocking, I know. I tried. I spent the first hour inside with the air-conditioning and the music and all the people draped over all the furniture talking about all the things and making all the moves, and I thought I was doing a pretty good job of hiding my awkwardness until Case held out his hand and dragged me outside tothis little patio area. The table was taken by people playing a drinking game, but we’ve claimed a cozy corner of the waist-high brick wall.
I don’t hate it. The temperature has cooled to somewhere aroundbearable, and I don’t have to shout small talk at anyone. I put down my bottle with a clink on the wall and turn to face Case. “Okay, you have my full attention, and I will refrain from touching you for at least the next five minutes. Go.”
His eyes light with amusement, and he takes a deep breath before pulling out his phone. “Okay, so you know how I wasn’t sure about the PBR.”
“I do know, yes.”
“Well,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m not going to the PBR. I’m going to college.”
I can feel my jaw drop open and wildly gesture for his phone. “Did you apply already?”
He nods, showing me an email. “And was accepted.”
My eyes race across the screen, snagging on a few words halfway. Raising my hands to my lips, I look up at him, blinking through watery eyes.
“Case.” My tone is soft. “Nursing?”
He shifts his feet, lifting his shoulder in a shrug and tucking his free hand in a pocket. “Yeah. Well, I was thinking I could work in pediatrics.”
“God.” I sniff, swiping under my eyes. “You would be so good at that. Taking care of kids, helping them feel less miserable or alone in the hospital? Case—” I shake my head in wonder. “This is brilliant. I don’t have words. I’m so proud of you.” Then I smack his shoulder. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
Always the good sport, he makes a show of rubbing at his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was stupid. I mean,I haven’t lost a rodeo this summer, and everyone assumes I’m headed to the PBR, including my dad and my coach. On paper, it makes the most sense.”
“But in your heart”—I hold up the screen—“this makes the most sense.”
