I nudge one foot forward but it goes too fast and when I correct with my other, they threaten to go in opposite directions and it takes a moment of wobbling to get myself figured out.

This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done and that includes knowingly running into danger to protect the guy I kinda liked.

I remind myself that turned out for the best and this will too.

As soon as I’ve slid/rolled/wobbled/shuffled close enough, my hand closes over Perry’s. He grips tight and yanks me toward him. For one terrifying moment I go too fast, sure I’m about to fall, when Perry’s arms are there. He wraps me up in them and like every time he holds me, I’m in the greatest place on Earth.

“You did it!” He’s so happy his eyes are crinkled as he looks down at me, and I’m compelled to add, “I did something.”

Perry laughs and presses a long, sweet kiss to my lips. “So proud of you.”

“That was barely roller skating.”

“You’re wearing roller skates and you moved on them. How much closer can you get?”

He’s got me there. I’ve always said I don’t actually want to go roller skating, I just want to know that I can do. And I did it. Terribly.

Like that, I’m satisfied that I got what I came for, and the feeling ballooning in my chest gets to be too much. “Perry?”

“Yeah?”

My throat is tight as I swallow. “I love you.”

Surprise lights up his expression. “Oh, thank fuck! I was worried I was the only one.”

“What?”

“I’ve been hinting but you never seemed to pick up on any of them.”

For what’s supposed to be a romantic moment, he’s lost me, which means he’s right on track. “What do you mean?”

“For months now I’ve been like, “oh, I love that shirt on you, love love love it” or “I love the way you pass me the sauce” or “love that for you, love.””

“I thought you were copying how Elle calls everyone love.”

Perry cackles, forehead resting on my shoulder as we keep our arms around each other in an attempt to stay standing. “Only you.” He pulls back to look at me again. “I love you so much that at one point I went for a heart checkup because I was sure there was something wrong with it.”

“You … what?”

He shrugs. “When you’ve been shot you never can be too careful.”

“Except you weren’t shot in the chest.”

That doesn’t deter him. “Hey, does this mean I’m cupid? I mean, I shot you and now you’re in love with me, so⁠—”

“You’re not cupid.”

“Are you sure? I think there’s an argument there.”