The truth is, I could’ve turned the light off and stripped away the barrier, said fuck it to the boundaries, slid myself inside her, and given her every part of me.

But if I don’t give Parker my heart, I’m not giving her much at all.

I start small. Baby steps.

“I’d be lying if I said I’m fine with this having an end date before we gave it a shot. Before you give me a real shot,” I add.

Parker swallows heavily before I continue, her eyes sleepy no more. But they’re wary. I can tell, and that should make me nervous.

I clear my throat. “And for me, that means, all this”—my eyes flicker around the room—“it’s for show. It’s the means to get you to an end, and that’s fine with me as long as this is real.” I press her hand firmer against my cheek. “Because none of this is how I’d do it in real life anyway.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Well,” I begin, “Our first kiss, it wouldn’t have been rushed in the back seat of a car with two strangers in the front seat.”

A breathy laugh escapes her mouth.

“Our first date would’ve been romantic. Definitely not bowling.” I bite my lip before I continue, “I wouldn’t have made you move in before you wanted to. Even though I like that you’re there. I like that you made it your home and you…” I look away.

Parker redirects my gaze onto her, and when I meet her eyes, I’m kicking myself. How can I waste one second not appreciating the view that is her gorgeous face so close to mine?

“What is it?”

My tongue darts out of my mouth to quickly swipe my lips, as if I’m prepping the space for the hard things to come. “In the real version of events, I would’ve wanted you to feel safe with me.”

Now it’s Parker’s turn to look away, and even though I don’t want to, I let her. I can’t force her to talk with me. I won’t. No matter how much I wish I could. When her hand slips from my cheek, I make no effort to put it back. Parker’s throat swells with a swallow, and maybe it’s not that she wants to keep things from me. Maybe her throat is stacked so high with pain, the words have a hard time getting over it.

“Where would they have been?” she asks, bringing her face back toward me. “The kiss and the date?”

I want to tell her that the answer to both of them is the same—somewhere meaningful.

“If you give me a re-do, I’ll show you.” I offer her a small smile, but it goes unmatched.