“Well, it’s my fault if she was picking up … feelings.” I take a deep breath, steeling all my nerves. “Because I think I have them. For you, I mean. And I don’t just think; I don’t know why I said that.” I shake my head, trying to get out a little of the panic. “I’m a mess, I know, and this is probably not the kind of thing you want to hear from me, but I feel like I miss you and maybe I’ve been missing you a little bit ever since you took your arm off my shoulders at the movie that first Friday, like I’ve just been waiting for you to put it back. And instead you went to Jenna, and I get it—obviously I get it, she’s Jenna, and I’m me, and clearly she realized this before I did, but—”

“Evie.” He braces his hands on his thighs, those long fingers fidgeting against the soft fabric. “Stop. Breathe. And hear me when I tell you that Jenna picking up vibes isn’t your fault either.”

“What do you mean?”

I’ve been avoiding direct eye contact, but his gaze locks on mine, as stormy and serious as I’ve ever seen it, and I can’t look away. “I know how to do my own damn laundry.”

I snort at the weird turn this conversation is taking. “I should hope so, after I spent an entire evening—”

“No.” The slightest of smiles creeps onto his lips, twisting something inside of me. “I know how to do my own damn laundry. You really should do whites separately, by the way. And unlike you, I even know how to use fabric softener.”

“Now you’re just bragging,” I say, trying to keep my voice light so it doesn’t shake like the rest of my body is trying to.

“No, I’m bragging and I’m telling you that the reason I didn’t ‘correct’ Jenna is because she was right,” he says as he rolls up to the bed, “and it would’ve been a dick move to pretend she wasn’t when everyone knows it except you.”

“Everyone knows…” My face flushes with warmth as my brain finally catches up and registers what I think he’s saying. What I hope he’s saying. What I really, really need to make sure he’s saying. “Words, Grayson. I need words.”

“Do you, though?” And then the warmth is everywhere as he slides onto the bed and slips one of those rough, callused hands into my hair, pulling my mouth to his. The kiss is soft, tentative enough to let me pull away, but I kiss him back without hesitation and it quickly turns hungry. Fevered.

Electric.

And I know that this time, I finally got the person right.

At that thought, I yank myself away, because I can’t start something here without putting everything else behind me.