You're It

by Cleo White

As much as I like to pretend it wasn’t the case, once upon a time, I was in love with my father’s oldest friend. It wasn’t a crush, or infatuation, or some kind of youthful obsession. I wish it had been, maybe then I would have recovered from it, but no. Facts are facts, and the fact is that by the tender age of eighteen, I was head over heels in love with a man I couldn’t have.

the closest I’ve ever gotten to a compliment from him was being told four years ago that my new haircut suited me. I remember, because it was the very first time Darwin Wilder gave me butterflies.

Savvy has gotten under my skin in a way no one ever has, and it seems perfectly ironic that I’m having my sexual awakening several decades late for the most inappropriate woman on the planet.

I’m in awe of you, and I always have been. I’ve never known someone who charges so fearlessly into life, even when she might get hurt. It’s who I wish I was, what I wish I could do.”

Never before have I prayed or asked the universe for favors, but I do now. If I’ve ever done anything good in my life to tip the scales in my favor, please let her need me.

Does she want a sports car? A back rub? The moon? Whatever the case, I’ll make it happen. This woman has me wrapped around her little finger, and I doubt she has the slightest idea.

I act playful and coy, and he caves to my demands every single time. It’s addictive. Do I know what’s happening between us? No. Am I loving it anyway? Yup.

And, out of nowhere, it hits me. I haven’t bothered with museums, or traveled, or encountered many exquisite things beyond the limits of my imagination. It’s illogical, yet as I stand stock still watching Savvy Laurence gazing up at a display of bathroom sconces, I know she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

I might not have much experience with falling in love, but I know now that’s what this is. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her. There’s no walking away from this, not for me. This woman is going to own me until the day I die, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Only you. Last night, the thought of you with someone else”—my hold on her waist tightens—“wrecked me, baby. If you don’t feel the same, tell me to leave you alone. Tell me now, because the things I want to do to you aren’t decent, and once we start…” Once we start, I won’t be able to stop.

Only yesterday my life was an angsty Victorian drama, and now I’ve somehow stumbled into fifty shades of holy crap. It’s disorienting and borderline terrifying, the effect he had on me.

“Make no mistake, Miss Laurence. I might be playing the gentleman now, but if you let me between those thighs, I won’t tolerate teasing.”

The frantic, dumb lust that possessed me only moments ago has been replaced with a dark, primal need that goes so much deeper. She was made for me, and now I’m going to fucking take her.

This woman, who’s made friends with my inner monsters, who’s shown me the world isn’t something to hide from… I’m in love with her. I’m so in love with her, I’ll never recover. So in love, that if I dedicated the rest of my life to writing out my devotion to Savvy Laurence, I still wouldn’t come close to capturing the intensity of my feelings for her in this moment.

I smile sheepishly, but my life feels better than I can remember it ever being. This woman… fuck. I never stood a chance.

“Why am I ‘baby’ when I’m naked but ‘little tornado’ the rest of the time?” she teases, lifting a hand to play with my beard. “Too many syllables.”

Even in my wildest fantasies, being with Dar wasn’t like this, and suddenly all those stupid when you know, you know pearls of wisdom kind of make sense. Because I freaking know. I am going to marry that big, grumpy nerd and have his oversized, grumpy, nerdy babies (sorry vagina), and that’s that.

“Eyes on me, little tornado. Watch me get a taste of my new favorite meal.”

Shouldn’t there be a limit to how much space a single person takes up in your heart? A maximum capacity? Sorry, only one piece of my soul per customer? Apparently not.

I’m in love with him, like, completely in love with him. The kind of love that doesn’t get thrown off track by stupid arguments or misunderstandings. The kind of love that’s forever, damn it.

Things won’t be perfect. I don’t want them to be. I want someone who is going to screw up, then break speed limits to come after me and fix it because he loves me as much as I love him.

We’re in this together. Partners, remember? Maybe we should schedule some sessions with your therapist so I can stop consulting Doctor Google about the best ways to support you.” Dar blows out a shaky breath, and I feel him nod. “Yes. That’s—yes.”

But, in five years, or ten, or twenty, when my little tornado looks at me, I don’t want there to be a doubt in her mind that I would move mountains for her. That starts right fucking now.