them, know exactly how I felt—which scared me because even I didn’t know exactly how I felt. “I care about Seth and Nicole, Chad and Naomi too.”
His eyes, intense and focused, bore into me. “The same way you care about me?”
All the air left my body. Because the easy answer was no. But nothing was easy about my feelings. They were complicated and I didn’t appreciate complicated. This was why I didn’t have boyfriends, though Liam was better than all of them combined. I didn’t deserve him, that much was painfully obvious. So, just like I had at his house earlier, I told another lie. “Yes.”
22
Tori took a short nap after we got back from the sand dunes. I had thought to suggest that we head back to the hotel, but mere minutes after she climbed into my bed, she was in a deep sleep. I had neglected to close the blinds, so the evening sun streamed through them, bathing Tori’s arms and legs in golden light.
The sun traced its path across her skin, kissing her in places my lips had yet to venture. George had curled up behind her knees, snuggling her like she was just as much a part of the family as she was herself.
I had never been in love, but I imagined that it felt like knowing you could all too easily take something for granted. Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she looked at me, those were all things I could too easily take for granted. The quiet rhythm of her breath on my chest in the early hours of the morning, the way her lips pursed when she fell into a deep sleep, or the way my hands reached for her in the dark—I could take every single moment with her for granted. Which made me all the more committed to acknowledging the little moments that explained the way I cared about her.
But looking at her like this burned more than I realized. After telling me the feelings she had for me were the same that she had for my friends, it was if she had injected ice into my veins. So cold it felt like fire.
I had never been more painfully aware of my own heartbeat until I looked at her. And I had never been more aware of just how quick I could feel pain than when she’d looked at me and essentially told me she had friendly feelings for me.
Soon, we would walk away from each other as if this week was just a blip. But the echoes of her would remain, embedded in my soul, reminding me that I didn’t know how lost I was until I’d found her—only to lose her again.
Opening her eyes slowly, she emitted a quiet little yawn. With her arms outstretched above her head, she locked gazes with mine. “Oh, hi,” she said, her voice hoarse from sleep.
It was as if my heart anticipated her effect before I did. Its pace quickened when she looked at me, like it was waiting for the moment to strike.
“Hey,” I managed, committing this vision to memory so I could torture myself with it later. “How was your nap?”
“Mmm…” she said, stretching again. “Good.” She relaxed her arms, stretching them toward me. “Come here,” she said in a whisper.
I crawled across the bed, disrupting George’s sleep and earning an indignant meow in response as she took off.
“Sorry, George,” Tori said with laughter as I curled up in her arms. I laid my head on her, my ear over her chest as I listened to the reliable and consistent lub-dub of her heart. A sound that seemed etched in my brain, comforting me in a way no heartbeat had since my mother’s.
Will’s funeral loomed ever-present in the back of my mind. After a long, emotional week, I was dreading this moment. I wanted longer. I wanted more time. Maybe if I’d been given more time with her, she’d be convinced that we could make this work outside of this one week. One week wasn’t nearly long enough.
I pulled back to stare up into her face. If feelings could be transferred by touch, I knew there would be no doubt of her affection for me as my arms wrapped around her. But if all I had at the end of this week was a memory, I’d make sure it was a vivid one.
I kissed her chin, the divot where her dimple belonged, her cupid’s bow, and her