The Understatement of the Year (The Ivy Years, #3)

by Sarina Bowen

Until now, I’d failed Rikker at every opportunity. But not today. His grandmother had said that her years with him were a joy. She was practically bursting with pride for him. I could do that, too. I could stand here, claiming him as someone who mattered to me. It was really the least I could do.

It’s hard to describe how badly this ate at me. But it wasn’t a typical lover’s jealousy. The problem was that I had never greeted Rikker that way, and certainly not in a room full of people. It struck me how badly I wanted my share of that affection. I’d been missing out, and all because of fear. Right then, a little light went on inside my thick head. I already knew that my refusal to come out had hurt Rikker. But until that moment, I don’t think I ever understood that it had hurt me, too. Because the cost of avoiding unfriendly eyes wasn’t nearly as great as the cost of forgoing even one of Rikker’s hugs.

“Are you okay?” he asked sleepily. I watched him wake up fast, his eyes snapping open, assessing me. “What’s wrong?” I shook my head. “I just miss you. Maybe I should have just let you sleep, but I love you too damn much.” If the people in my life were going to start collapsing everywhere, it suddenly seemed important that I let them know.

“That’s the crazy bitch who calls herself your mom?” “Skip,” Ross warned. “Simmer down.” “You think I should be polite?” My ex-boyfriend spat. “Fine. Thank you, Mrs. Rikker, for kicking your son out when he was sixteen. Because if you hadn’t, someone else would have had to take my virginity.”

who was currently wearing a pink t-shirt reading Power Bottoms for Jesus.

“Lunch time, baby. What do you like from Wendy’s?” He shook himself into consciousness. “Um, taco salad?” I just stared at him. “Really? A salad?” Graham gave me a sleepy grin. “I have a lot of salads for lunch. But never for dinner.” “I didn’t know that. We never eat lunch together.” A sad expression passed through his eyes, but then he smiled again. “Some idiot thought we shouldn’t. Can’t remember why.” My heart gave a little kick just to hear him say that. “We’ll start now.”

You promised me a camping trip in Vermont. I want to pick apples and have sex in a tent.”

He put down his fork. “I know that. My whole life, I never got in the habit of saying what I wanted. I’ve got one year of college left. And I want to spend it on the things I choose.” He reached across the gearbox and put a hand on my chest. “All the things I choose. And mostly, I choose you.”

I pulled him by the back of the neck just far enough over to kiss me. “You’re it,” I whispered. “A perfect ten on the Rikker scale.”