Always (Indigo Falls #1)

by Loren Leigh

Simkung. A heartthrob so strong that it consumes every other thought in your head.

“Why isn’t shit ever simple?” “I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe because truly caring about someone is never uncomplicated.”

He looks playful. It’s not only in his gaze, but also in the ease of that sharp jaw. In the way he clutches his pencil between long fingers, slowly tapping it against his legal pad. Shit, that playful ease looks so damn good on him. I can’t remember the last time I saw him like that.

“Then do it.” He stops. “Do what?” “Kiss me.”

He holds it up. A little ball dangles on the end of a silver chain: a tiny likeness of the sun, a solar flare shooting off it. It’s bright orange, like the seats to his Jeep. And the orange in my hand, I guess. “You got me a solar flare,” he says quietly, eyes fixed on it. “Yeah, I did.”

Cute and nerdy. Love it

Hope. It quivers like a tiny flame. Hesitant and wavering, but still there. Flickering like it wants to catch.

Hope is like this tiny flower bud in my palm. I don’t know if I’m ready to let it bloom yet. It’s been smashed and obliterated so many times. But maybe . . .

“Jin.” A half-smile tugs at his lips as his eyes soften. “You’re my universal constant. Something that will never change.” That genuine smile expands over his face, the one I’ll never get tired of. “I love you to the depth of my ability to love.” I laugh. “Shit, that was a good ‘I love you’.” “It’s my first.” His smile falls as he tips forward, his forehead pressing against mine. “If you want to hear it simpler, then here it is: I love you too. Always.”