Fuck, has she been walking around these past weeks since Guadalajara thinking I’m only in this for the sex? That this thing we have is just physical to me, as fleeting as a car passing by on a busy street? If so, how long has she been speculating when this will end—that I’m not fully in this, up to my neck in deep water?
Jesus, my dad was right. Iama pendejo. Ronnie told me that Blondie sometimes needs things spelled out to her, and because I’m the biggest idiot in the world, I’ve only added to her confusion by not being upfront with her from the moment I realized what I was feeling.
This is it. The timing might be completely fucked considering everything going on with her mom, but I have to tell her now or risk never telling her at all.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I whisper, committing to what I’m about to do by taking that step over the threshold into her house. Blondie holds her ground as I inch closer to her, my movements slow and measured, my gaze unwavering.
Gentle,I remind myself. That’s another thing Ronnie said. That Blondie is open to new things so long as the push to get there is gentle.
And accepting what I feel for her after everything we’ve been throughisa push. But she feels it, too; I know she does. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be so terrified of me leaving, a fear I plan to quash for good.
“Clearly not,” she breathes, her voice tremulous as she jerks her head. “Not to me.”
Another step closer. I lean in toward her a little, cocking my head with a smirk. “Are you being deliberately obtuse right now, or do you really not know?”
My question has the intended effect. Banter has always come easy to us. It’s familiar territory. Comfortable. And most importantly, it puts her at ease—I can tell by the softening of her shoulders, which were previously tense and raised.
Blondie rolls her eyes and snorts. “Obtuse? Is that another word from your word-of-the-day calendar?”
“You know it,” I say with a laugh, taking another step closer. “This month is math words. Are you going to answer my question?”
She hesitates, giving me a skeptical look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then let me spell it out for you.” Lifting my free hand, I pinch the end of one of her curls between my fingers, tugging it gently and then letting it go, watching with a tiny, fond smile as it springs back into place. God, I love her hair. “I like you,” I murmur.
Blondie slow-blinks at me once…twice…like a computer processing a command input.
“Youlikeme,” she repeats. “Like someone likes a really good taco?”
I snort out a laugh. “Iloveyour taco, actually. But…I was thinking more likeTwilight-level feelings.”
Her lips purse into the cutest little pout. “So, you have a huge boner for me?” she asks in a surprisingly sultry voice that immediately has Damian Jr. taking notice of this conversation.
I nod. “In my pantsandin my heart.” Her eyes go wide as I raise a hand to my chest and lay it flat over my left pectoral. “Right here. The biggest of boners.” She stares at that hand for a moment, saying nothing, and I frown at the lingering uncertainty I find in her gaze. Maybe I’m beingtoogentle with this admission. I want to heed Ronnie’s advice, do this right for Blondie’s sake—give her time to process by spelling out every word and emotion so she doesn’t doubt it—but then, I’ve never held back with her before. Maybe blunt honesty is what she needs from me now.
“I’m sensing there’s still some confusion here, so allow me to be perfectly clear. I have feelings for you, Dornan.”
“Like…homicidal feelings?” she hedges, echoing what she said to me before kissing me in the library last month.
I scoff. I swear, she’s doing this on purpose now.
“Romantic feelings, you smart-ass.” I lean in so close her warm breaths puff against my face. “Ilikeyou, Blondie.Likelike.”
It’s when I say those last two words that I see it: the cautious understanding on her face that tells me sheknew(or at least suspected) how I feel about her but was too scared to believe it.
“You like me,” she breathes, looking up at me through sooty black lashes, “like someone would like their girlfriend?” A grin explodes across my face, and I’m about to respond when her wary voice cuts through the silence like a knife. “But you said you don’t want a girlfriend.”
It isn’t a question. It’s a condemnation. And as the smile slips from my face, I have never hated my past decisions more than I do at this moment.
“I know what I said. But that was Past Damian, and I think we can both acknowledge that Past Damian was a bit of a bastard.”
Her lips quirk at the corners, but whether she remembers our conversation at the bar last night remains to be seen. It doesn’t matter if she does so long as she believes me. “And Present Damian?”
I drop the plastic bag in my hand to the floor and curl my arms around her waist, gently pulling her toward me. “Present Damian would like to retract all previous statements regarding his lack of interest in a girlfriend…because he’s crazy about you, Dornan.I’mcrazy about you.”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “Well, then we have that in common. Because you make me crazy.”
I arch a wry brow. “Is that your way of saying you have feelings for me?”
