L.A. Weatherly

“Willow, you know that you said you couldn't tell how I felt at the rest stop?"

I nodded, and he took my hand, laying it flat on his chest with his own resting over it. "Can you tell now?" he asked.

His heart beat firmly under my hand; my own pulse was pounding so hard that I could barely think straight. Closing my eyes, I took a deep, steadying breath, and then another as I tried to clear my mind, to feel what he was feeling. For a moment there was just the softness of our breathing--then all at once it washed over me in a great wave.

He was in love with me, too.

I opened my eyes. Alex was still holding my hand to his chest, watching me, his expression more serious than I'd ever seen it. Unable to speak, I slowly dropped my hand and wrapped my arms around him. His own arms came around me as he rested his head on my hair.

"I really do, you know," he said, his voice rough.

"I know," I whispered back. "I do, too.”
― L.A. Weatherly, Angel

“You know that half the girls in school would have been after you."

He gave a soft laugh. "If they were into someone who was flunking out...I don't think I'd do too well with having to go to class when a bell rings or caring about homework..."

"A bad boy--even better. You'd have done well in Spanish class."

"If I ever went to it."

We lay in silence for a awhile; Alex's arms felt so warm and safe that I was starting to get sleepy. "Say something in Spanish," I mumbled.

He kissed my hair. "Te amo, Willow," he said quietly.

I came awake, smiling into the darkness. "What does that mean?" I whispered.

I could almost hear his own smile. "What do you think it means?"

I hugged him, kissing his collarbone and wondering if it was possible to actually die of happiness. "Te amo, Alex.”
― L.A. Weatherly, Angel