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And in the middle of my chaos, there was you.
Manipulation. I’m being manipulated by a fucking seventeen-year-old.
Dangerous because when he cups the back of my head, coaxes it to rest in the crook where his neck meets his shoulder, and nestles his face in my hair, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday, by the way.” “You didn’t.” It’s my turn to deadpan him. “My ex-boyfriend beat the crap out of you for talking to me.” “And the night ended with a pretty girl in my bed, fawning over me,” Nick retorts smoothly. “I’d call that a win.”
I’m not sweet. You’re sweet to me. Because I like you.
“Whatever is going on here,” James gestures between Nick and I, “I like it. Cass won’t like it but I do.”
“I’m not sweet, Amelia.” he spits. “I don’t turn up at girls’ houses to watch movies. I don’t buy them lunch or bring them coffee. I don’t let them sleep in my bed or steal my clothes. I don’t get jealous when a guy so much as looks at them. I don’t get in fights with their ex-boyfriends. I sure as fuck don’t introduce them to my mother. I’m not that guy.”
“I like staring at you.” The tingling in my lips amps up a notch when he swipes the bottom one gently. “Do it a lot.”
My demand earns me dimples, as if I needed another thing making me light-headed and boneless.
I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. This isn’t the Amelia I know, my Amelia,
her inability to speak only seems to make her cry harder and I swear to God, she’s breaking my fucking heart.
Oh, God. Why? Why? Hot, sweet—most of the time—and he works in a bookstore? Be still my freaking beating heart.
“Marry him.” My groan echoes around the living room. “Luna.” “He teaches you self-defense. He beat up Dylan. He brings you coffee. He works in a bookstore.”
“He’s fucking perfect.”
This is what fucks with me, I realize. The softness. When he’s sweet to me—and only me,
Ahhhh ❤️
Drunk Nick is a big freaking softie. A rambler too, and I can’t decide which I like more.
He doesn’t change into a person I don’t recognize; he softens and melts into the version of himself he keeps tucked away that makes my heart putty in his hands no matter how many walls I erect around it.
And in all honesty, I have very little intention of ever letting the girl kissing the life out of me escape.
met Nicolas.” Do not blush. Compose yourself. Deep breath. Then speak.
That right there, those six words, are why I want to tell him.
She knows intimately what it means because it’s what my dad used to call her.
Because I care about you.
But I do. And when she says, “I think you should go,” I listen.
If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine he’s lying beside me, and that’s what lets me drift off, what helps me sleep better than I have in
“I need to leave because you are everywhere, all the time, and I can’t fucking think straight. I can’t fucking breathe, Amelia. I can’t stop wanting you and I hate it because you don’t want me.”
“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers, so quiet yet deafening in their meaning,
I can’t sneak around,” he continues, and I bite down on a pathetic whimper, “and act like I’m not falling for you because it’s not fucking working. It’s too hard, Amelia.”
Falling for you. Falling for me. He is falling for me.
🥺🤍
Lips brush my forehead before his touch disappears. “I’m yours, Amelia, but I can’t do this anymore.”
“I know what I want,” I blurt out, frantic hands bunching his shirt because maybe if I literally hold him hostage, he won’t leave.
Full mouth morphing into a devastating smile, Nick’s entire face brightens, and it’s like the sun comes out. “C’mere, querida.”
Home, I realize. That’s what kissing Nick feels like. Safety and peace and home.
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anything in my life than I am about this. About him.
but I don’t let him. I like him crushing me. I like being smothered by his heat and surrounded by the smell of him.
I like feeling safe.
“I meant it, okay?” No more rules. No more secrets. No going back. “I’m all in.” All in. Two words with so much meaning.
I feel something I haven’t genuinely, completely felt in a long time. I’m happy.
With a smirk that rivals Nick’s infamous one, I turn in his arms, looping mine around his neck. “You've been pining for me.”
These ones only remind me of a man who makes me feel safe and comfortable and.... Loved.
“This is different.” And fuck, does something in my chest roll when she confirms with complete confidence, “I know.”
I can’t help it; I break out smiling like a fool. A lovestruck fool.
It helps, though. The way he makes me feel, the way he looks at me, makes everything else fade away and seem insignificant. He helps.
"You are the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me." If I wasn't already a melted mess,
as I admit, “You're the best thing that's ever happened to me too.”
Tipping my bear in his direction, I smile. Mine, motherfucker.
“I love you.”
“I love you. And every reason you’re conjuring up for why you think I don’t only makes me love you more.”
and I bite the fucking bullet. “I love you.”
I inch closer, brushing my lips against his palm as he tilts his head to look up at me. “I love you, Nicolas.”
He loves me, he fucking loves me, and I love him.
