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What I don’t realize is that I’ll be fighting the urge to stare at Jasper Gervais for years to come.
“I mean, you look beautiful,” I rush out, grimacing when I note her eyes widening. “You always do. You just don’t look . . . happy?”
Plus, I remember how Sloane looks at a man when she really wants him. And she isn’t looking at her fiancé the way she used to look at me.
“Maybe if I drink enough of these”—I lift the six-pack, feeling a little loopy—“I’ll invite you to join me.”
“That’s probably what you tell all the girls, Gervais.” “Nah, Sunny. You’re my only girl.”
Because I’ve been staring at Jasper Gervais since I was ten years old, and suddenly . . . he’s staring back.
Jasper: I don’t like talking to people. Sloane: You talk to me. Jasper: You’re not people. Sloane: Lmao. What am I then? Jasper: My person.
“Times have changed, Sloane. I’m not scared anymore. You’re not my fucking friend. You’re just mine.”
“More than anything, I don’t want to lose you.” “You won’t. I promise you won’t,”
Jasper chuckles, a dark chuckle that holds so much promise. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sloane. I have a special knack for pushing people away. They always take off. And they’re never all that sad to leave me behind.” Is that really what he thinks? My heart cracks wide open for him. Like it always has.
“See, Sloane? You can wear someone else’s ring, but we both know you’ve always been mine.”
feel like I could crumble under the weight of not wanting to disappoint you. I’m paralyzed by my fear of losing you.”
“Sloane.” “Mm-hmm,”
I point at the floor beneath my feet and say, “Lose that fucking ring and crawl.”
