I jerk my head sideways and glare at him. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his hand. And his expression is entirely unreadable. It sends my insides into free fall.
“Get over here,” he says, patting the cushion in front of him.
I swallow hard. “We won’t both fit.”
“We’ll fit just fine.”
“I’m mad at you.”
“You’re always mad at me. But I don’t think you want your family involved in this fight, so maybe you should come over here and be mad at me in a more up-close, quiet kind of way.”
I push the blanket off me and sit up. “We’re not fooling around.”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
“Garrett—”
He holds out his hand.
Heart in my throat, I cross to him and let him tug medown to the couch, where I very annoyingly fit right into the crook of his arm.
He covers me with his blanket. “I’ve heard that it’s more comfortable to be mad when you’re cozy.”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
But I still burrow deeper against his body, soaking up his strength and his heat. It’s a bittersweet kind of comfort, because I know it’s stolen, that last night was supposed to be our final night together in a bed.
Just like I was supposed to be relieved that tonight we each had a separate couch, but I lasted less than five minutes before scurrying into his arms.
Maybe I won’t spend theentirenight like this.
He’s right that we shouldn’t bicker across the living room. If we need to have a conversation, we can do it close up.
And then I’ll go back to my own couch.
“I’m not always mad at you,” I whisper. It seems like a good place to start.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I broke us up.”
“Because we weren’t happy.”
“Yeah.”
“Seems like a good reason to break up.”
“I thought so.” But then he takes a deep breath, his whole chest lifting, pressing against my back. And I hear the doubt, loud and clear.
I try to twist around, to look at him, but he bands his arm around my waist, holding me where I am.
“Can I tell you something?” His breath is warm against my temple.
“Of course.”
“I regret breaking us up. I’m not saying it was wrong, because I don’t think it was, but… Once you know how quiet, how completelysilentloneliness is, it really puts what you once had in a new perspective.”
“Oh.” I close my eyes to keep the hot press of tears at bay. “I have regrets, too, you know.”
“You want to share?”
