I didn’t have a problem with it.

“No,” I answered.

He gave a brief nod before continuing, “Mostly, though, after you gave me all of that, and what I knew it took for you to come and give it to me, and then getting down to talking about that asshole who’s fucking with you, I needed to be close to you. Not to mention, seeing as we’re about to make out, might as well be comfortable doing it.”

Might as well.

Yikes.

Moving on.

“Okay. Then, is there…I mean, um…making up?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“Don’t you have to kind of be together to make up?”

“Hattie, this is the longest non-relationship relationship in history. We’ve been together since the first time you shot me down for a date and I think you know that better than me.”

Hmm.

“But you had a girlfriend,” I reminded him.

“No, I saw a woman briefly when you were giving me nothing to go on. I liked her. She liked me. I couldn’t get you out of my head when I was with her, which was fucked up and uncool. I knew just how fucked up and uncool that was when you lost it on yourself that day in the studio and my reaction to seeing your pain shared clear I needed to focus on what was important. So I sat down with her to finish it. When I told her we were done in that way, she said, ‘It’s the girl you’re pining for, isn’t it?’ So I wasn’t hiding it from her either. Which was more fucked up and uncool. But she’s nice. She’s sweet. She talked to me about you. And she told me not to give up, you’d come around. We like the same kind of movies and she mountain bikes, and so do I, so we hit trails. Like I said, she’s nice and sweet, she’s also gorgeous, so she’s already seeing another guy. But we’ve become good friends in a way she won’t lose me, and I hope you aren’t the kind of woman who can’t handle the man in her life having female friends.”

My reaction to seeing your pain.

Focus on what was important.

The man in her life.

“I don’t think I’m that kind of woman,” I said.

Or, if I was, after he said all that, I wasn’t going to be any longer.

“Good,” he muttered.

“What kind of movies do you like?” I asked.

“Lots, but with Peyton, it’s horror.”

I pulled a face.

He grinned at me.

“I don’t mountain bike,” I told him.

“I don’t care,” he told my mouth.

I had a feeling we were getting to the making-up part.

My hands, still on his shoulders, squeezed.

His gaze came back to my eyes.