Problematic Summer Romance (Not in Love, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

I was trying to protect you from something that you never even considered a threat, when the only thing that really matters is…” “The triumph of the free market?” “You.” His laugh is soft.

“I want to get married.” All of a sudden, he’s leaning forward. A challenging, burning, searching light in his eyes. I blink. Many, many times. “Well.”

And I don’t think it’s fair of me to demand a commitment of you this early on. Not after being so fucking stupid for three years.” He’s right. I may be sick in love with him, but not so much that I cannot see it.

“Because no matter what, or where, or when, you would make it spectacular. Whatever situation, you’d make it worth living. I’d get up and you’d be there, looking beautiful and saying the most annoying things and driving me nuts and making me laugh. And I would love every second of it. Because it’s with you. And you are…” The way his lips curl is internal. Like he’s sorting out the thoughts in his head. “You’re trouble. A constant stream of trouble.”

“Please, tell me you disabled push notifications.” “I could tell you, but…” “Oh my god.” I cover my mouth. Laugh into my palm. “Why?” “I…It was nice. Sometimes I’d put on the same songs as you, and it felt almost like being together.” He shrugs. The shift of his muscles vibrates through my entire body. “I kept telling myself, ‘I’ll disconnect it tomorrow,’ but…” I think about the past three years.

A reason to come home.” I want that, I think. I want to be that for him. I want him to be that for me.

“When I saw you in Edinburgh,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t look away. You don’t—I can’t make you understand. I don’t have the words.”

He never says that he misses you, an insecure, jellylike bit of me points out. He’s busy, my brain quips back. You’re overthinking.

“I agree. Aside from Eli begging us not to elope to Vegas in the next two weeks, which makes me want to do exactly that.” His lips quirk. A crooked smile. “Don’t say that. I’m trying very hard not to ask you to marry me.”

The ring, it can just mean…It can just be a reminder for you that I love you. That I want to marry you. That I’m a constant, never-ending yes. And that whenever you’re ready, in two years or in twenty, I’m here. In the meantime, we can be more…casual, and…”

“You’re right. Not just her—everyone else, I was always able to put them places. Out of sight, out of mind. But with you…I have to follow your lead.”

“Conor?” I cup his face. “Yeah?” I let myself smile. “You haven’t even asked me the question yet.” A short while later, I fall asleep with his ring on my finger.