“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks. He reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, and his fingers dance across my jaw, in no hurry to pull away. It’s easy, tender affection. The kind that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” I nod, and I’ve never been so sure of something in my life. “I’m perfect.”
