Page 114 of Felix

“You’ve changed me,” he says, voice soft. In the dark, I can’t see his expression, but it doesn’t sound like a bad thing.

I remember Emil telling me once how it was easier not to expect good things than to come to rely on them only to be disappointed. The absence hurts worse. Convincing ourselves we don’t need affection and love is easier. Or, at the very least, it numbs the pain.

I understand that. Emil and I had different upbringings, but in some ways, they were the same. We both did our best to accept the small space we occupied amidst our loved ones. We tried not to let it hurt.

The fact that Specs isn’t afraid of me hurting him is nothing short of miraculous. It’s as big and bright as that confession he let slip in the locker room. It’s love, and it’s trust, and it makes me want to hold on so tight Emil will always know what it feels like to be loved in return. He won’t ever have to guess. He won’t ever feel unseen or unheard or unloved.

I used to be scared of this. Terrified. But even if, someday, I lose this man with his cheek pressed to my heart, I won’t ever regret loving him. I couldn’t.

And I think that’s maybe most miraculous of all.

“You’ve changed me, too, Specs,” I say into the quiet stillness of the night. Emil doesn’t respond, but his chest rises and falls steadily against me. “And I’m so grateful that you did.”

Chapter 29

Emil

I blow out a breath, my nerves frayed. Not because of this, exactly. But, well, I’m not sure how he’s going to react.

Only one way to find out. Biting the bullet, I send Christian a text.

Me: Which one?

It only takes a moment before Christian appears at his window. My heart beats erratically as he stands there, not moving a muscle. His mouth forms a shape—my name, maybe?—and then he grabs his phone. My own rings a second later.

“What do you think?” I say, my words coming out fast. “Blue or red?”

“Specs,” he breathes. “Is that for me?”

My smile is a little shaky. “Merry Christmas.”

He lets out a puff of air. “Don’t move.”

Christian clicks off the call, and I look over at the dress form positioned in front of my bed. The neck is adorned with one blue tie and one red. “I think that went well, don’t you?” I ask the inanimate object. Thankfully, it doesn’t respond. “He was excited…right?”

Groaning, I tell the butterflies flapping around inside my stomach to chill. When my front door opens and shuts, I bite my fingernail, waiting. Christian appears in my doorway a second later, eyes wide. He’s already dressed for Christmas with my family.

I wish I could say I’m more excited, but there’s a knot in my stomach that’s been there all morning. Today is the day I confront my parents.

I’m not sure I’m ready.

“So?” I say, focusing on Christian.

He doesn’t answer, just walks over, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me. I fall back against the bed in my surprise, and Christian follows me down, body blanketing mine as he slowly steals my breath. Definitely excited.

“It’s too much,” he finally says, pulling back.

“It’s not,” I answer, smoothing my hands over his sides. “You deserve it, Christian.”

“Specs,” he says, dropping his face next to mine.

“Don’t make me return it,” I all but plead. “That thing took forever to assemble, and neither Arthur nor Hermin were any help.”

Christian chuckles against me, lifting enough to see my face. “God, Specs. Thank you. Your gift isn’t nearly as good.”

I shake my head. “Not a competition.”

“It’s just a bunch of highlighters and tabs and stuff for your note—”

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