His eyes widen at my confession, but nothing more is said. The silence is deafening, each second ticking away so slowly it’s almost excruciating. I stare at him and he continues watching me, but no words are spoken until he finally exhales an almighty breath as a string of inaudible curse words fall from his lips. Placing his hands low on his hips, he bows his head and, most shockingly of all, his shoulders begin to tremble.

I look closer, narrowing my eyes. “A-are you … are you crying?”

His head snaps up, and it’s then that I notice the smile on his face.

“Oh Lord!” I throw my hands up in frustration. “Of course you’re laughing. Everything is just a goddamn joke to you, isn’t it, Harley Shaw.”

His chuckle turns into a loud laugh before he’s in full-on hysterics, and all I can do is roll my eyes while I wait for him to finish. “I’m sorry, Murph.” He finally collects himself, clearing his throat and meeting my eyes. “I’m real sorry for laughing. But what the hell are we even doing?”

“Well, you’re being a jerk, for starters …” I mutter under my breath.

He flashes me a cocky smirk: his trademark. And damn him, I can’t help but crack a smile of my own. I duck my head and bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop myself, but it’s impossible.

“Come here.”

Looking up, I’m not sure I heard him right. Maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me. But when I find him standing there with one arm outstretched, I offer him a dubious look.

“Murph— No, Alice,” he corrects himself, and that cocky smirk morphs into a softer, genuine smile that hints at his dimples.

“What?” I stand my ground, looking him up and down.

“I’m sorry for being a jerk.” He scratches at that same nonexistent itch at the back of his neck, giving away just how suddenly nervous he is. “And … well …”

I can tell the words are difficult for him to say, but I’m actually enjoying watching him suffer. “What?” I tap my foot on the ground, waiting, flashing him a warning glare, and quirking a brow.

He huffs a dramatic sigh, looking up toward the sky with his hands in the air, and I bite my lips together to stop my smile from showing through. “Fine!” he yells, his hands falling hard against his thighs as he glowers at me. “I … love you.” He says the words as if he’s ripping off a Band-Aid, as if it hurts like hell but he’s too damn stubborn to show too much emotion. But then he softens, and his green eyes are suddenly full of sincerity. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Since we were 9 years old, to be precise,” I correct him matter-of-factly, smiling like a smug jerk. “Nash told me everything.”

“Na.” He shakes his head, countering my smugness with a smart smile of his own. “When I was 9 I probably just wanted to touch your butt.” I gape at him incredulously, as he continues. “I was 14 when I knew I was in love in with you.” He flashes a smartass smile, his eyebrows waggling up and down, and I can’t help but laugh. “Now, will you just come here so I can kiss you, goddammit?”