–
That thing pulls tight in my chest again. I don’t even think just roll over, shifting so we’re lying face–to–face. His arm stays locked around me, pulling me right into him.
I’m not ready for what I see.
His blue eyes are raw with regret. His blond hair is messy and adorable, and he looks unfairly handsome in the morning light, like something straight out of a dream I’m afraid to wake up from.
“Oh,” I breathe, stunned for a second. “Are you even familiar with the concept of morning breath, Mr. Calloway?”
He laughs – a real, belly laugh- and it lights up his entire face. I swear the whole world feels a little brighter. “Only like fifty percent. Do I have morning breath?” he teases.
“Yeah,” I lie, even though honestly, I can’t smell anything except him–and it’s doing dangerous things to my heart.
His grin gets even wider, if that’s possible, all sunshine and mischief. “Good. We’re matching.”
“Hey!” I swat at his arm, but he catches my hand easily, his fingers curling around mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He doesn’t let go.
His smile slowly fades away. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,”
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he says, voice so raw it makes my throat tighten. “But… I’m asking you to anyway.”
He squeezes my hand gently, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough
Like somehow, I’m the one who matters most.
“I said things I shouldn’t have too,” I mutter. He lifts an eyebrow at me, like he’s not buying it.
“Well, you weren’t wrong.”
“But
“For once, Emilia,” he says, voice low and rough, “just take the damn apology. No excuses. No brushing it off. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He pulls in a shaky breath, like the words are harder to say than they should be, “So yell at me. Throw something. Hate me if you want.” His voice drops even lower, “Just… don’t pretend it didn’t matter. Please,”
I purse my lips, trying to stay mad, but it’s hard when he’s looking at me like that.
Then I remember last night and everything he said and the flames within me reignite.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But I don’t accept your apology. I’m livid. I have no idea where you got the audacity to talk to me like that.”
“How audacious of me.” He says beneath his breath, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
My stomach flips.
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“I thought I was supposed to be telling you off?”
11 284 Scary
“You are,” he says, smile seated on his lips in a way that makes me think he meant: “That’s my girl.”
“There’s nothing funny about this,” I huff. “You’re either going to talk to me with respect or I’m throwing you overboard. And I’m not like Becca – I won’t have the captain fish you back out.”
He laughs under his breath, but there’s no teasing in his eyes anymore. Just something softer. Warmer. “I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again,” he says again, quieter this time. “You were right. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
I blink at him, thrown off. “Right about what?”
He holds my gaze, like he’s afraid to say it but even more afraid not to. “I would’ve killed to be in his place.”
–
It takes me a second to get what he means — and when I do, my heart stumbles. My brain short–circuits.
W–what?
Before I can say anything, his hand leaves my waist and brushes my cheek, so gently it makes my throat tighten.
He smiles at me – a little sad, a little wrecked – like I’m the only thing that makes sense in a world that doesn’t.
“It makes no sense at all,” he murmurs. “How I can like you this much.”
The space between us feels too small now. Like breathing him in is the easiest thing in the world.
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“And if it makes you feel any better,” he adds, thumb skimming lightly over my cheek, “I’d gladly go overboard… if you’re the one who pushes me.”
EMILIA
What the hell do I even say to that?
I just… stare at him. Like an idiot. My mouth opens, but no words come out.
—
Liam gives me this small, sad smile – dimples and all – and somehow that’s worse. It knocks the air right out of my lungs.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes lightly against my hand, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of me. “I didn’t say it because I expected you to.”
A million responses spin through my brain – yes, no, maybe,
kiss me – but none of them make it out.
So instead, I blurt out, “I still don’t forgive you.”
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