Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute(84)

I am breathing heavily. “No,” I say, pulling the blankets around me. “No. Just a normal amount. The point is, I want to take the risk because I want you. And I trust you. And you’re worth it! Do you get that? You’re worth it to me.” And I really did not intend to essentially pour my heart all over her like this. Let’s blame my concussion. At least I haven’t mentioned the L word.

Celine’s hand finds my clenched fist on top of the duvet. She eases my fingers apart and laces hers between them. And she looks me in the eye when she says, “You’re worth it to me too.”

I feel like the world’s biggest arsehole. “No, I understand why you worry about these things, Cel. And I don’t want to pressure you. So if we can’t do this right now, it’s—”

“Brad,” she interrupts, “I told you once that I’d stop avoiding my feelings. I lied then. But I mean it now. You’re worth it to me. And I…um…” Her mouth moves, but her voice dips too low for me to hear.

I blink. “What?”

“I—” She cuts out again, like she’s traveling through a tunnel on the other end of a phone instead of kneeling right in front of me.

“Celine, I can’t hear you.”

“Darn,” she says brightly. “Maybe next time. Want to make out?”

“Yes.” I put a hand on her shoulder when she moves forward. “After you speak up.”

Her glower is catastrophic. “Oh my God. Fine. I LOVE YOU, okay?”

The breath whips right out of my lungs. I stare at her in shock. In the plan for our future that I developed literally two seconds ago, I didn’t foresee Celine saying she loved me until a super-emotional moment such as the birth of our first child in about fifteen years. This is way ahead of schedule. I am astounded. She stares me down with a hard jaw and narrowed eyes as if daring me to say something about it. I’m about to do just that—specifically, something along the lines of That is ideal, you absolute donkey, because I love you too—when someone clears their throat and knocks on my open bedroom door.

We both look around to see Dad standing there with a tray in his arms, biting down very hard on a smile you could nevertheless see from space. “Er, hello,” he says. “I made muffins.” He raises the tray. “Anyone fancy…”

Celine very slowly sinks to the floor and sticks her head under my duvet.

I try not to laugh too loud. I get the sense she is mortified enough.

“Right, then,” Dad says. “I’ll just leave these downstairs.”

I remember what Dad said before about me and Celine—how it wasn’t a good idea, how it was too much pressure. If he still thinks that, well, it changes absolutely nothing, because I’ve decided no one’s reservations—including my own—will ever stop me from going after what I want. Writing is for me, and I’m the one who makes that choice. Celine is for me, and we’re making the choice to be together. If it goes wrong—any of it—I can deal with that.

I trust myself to deal with any outcome. I believe in me.

Still, my heart does a happy dance when Dad catches my eye, gives me an apologetic smile…and a thumbs-up, his hands still clutching the tray. “Help yourself when you come down, Celine.” He leaves and closes the door.

“You can come out now,” I tell her.

“No,” she groans, her voice muffled. “No, I really can’t.”

“Then how am I gonna tell you that I love you too?”

At that, she pops up like a meerkat. A meerkat with an enormous smile. “Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh—”

I appear to have broken Celine. “Come here.” I grab the front of her T-shirt and drag her closer.

“Wait! Are your ribs—”

“Don’t care,” I say, and then I’m kissing her. It’s like birthday cake, back when sugar felt like being high. It’s like laughing as you stumble through the dark under the stars. It’s like Celine loving me.

She pulls back slightly, her lips—her smile—ghosting against mine. “Does this mean I’m allowed on the bed again?”

“You’re allowed anywhere you want,” I tell her, “as long as you’re right next to me.”





FRIDAY, 8:19 P.M.


     FRAPPES 4 ALL


Minnie: Still good for tomorrow?





Jordan:





Sonam: Y





Celine: yes





Brad: ???





Peter H: what





Brad: no one tells us anything





FRIDAY, 8:27 P.M.





BREAKSPEARE BADDIES


Celine: hey guys





Celine: some friends from school are meeting us at maccies after the ball, if you want to come?





Raj: always up for a maccies





Sophie: yeah def x





Aurora: cute yes pls





Brad: oh THAT’S what’s happening





Brad: i remember now