“What?” I whisper, flattened. “I’m in love with you,” he repeats, calmer now. For a flash we’re back to the night he told me he loved me for the first time, a week after my birthday. We’re at the grocery store, delirious from studying, and I’m blearily arguing with myself over whether Smucker’s or Welch’s has the more accurate grape flavor for the PB&J I plan to annihilate. I look over to find Eli watching me, the softest, most happy smile on his face. His paper-rings smile. In that moment, I say “What?” and he says, “I’m in love with you.”
