Page 86 of High Hopes

Because I don’t need her to be perfect or put together or anything she thinks she’s not. I just need her to be Birdie.

“No, I don’t accept that,” I say firmly.

Her head snaps up, eyes wide and startled. “What?”

“I don’t accept it,” I repeat, leaning forward, my elbows resting on my knees as I face her fully. “I’m not going to lie to you, Birdie. Or to myself. There is something romantic going on between us. There has been since the day I kicked that ball through your studio window and met you. There’s a spark there, and it hasn’t gone out. Not for me, anyway.”

She blinks at me, her mouth opening and closing like she doesn’t know what to say.

“And I’m not going to keep being with you and pretending it’s something it’s not,” I continue. “I know you’re scared, so if you need time, if you need space, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need. But we’re not just ‘hanging out.’ That’s not what this is, and we both know it.”

For a moment, she just stares at me, like she’s trying to process what I’ve said. Then, to my complete surprise, she laughs. It starts as a small chuckle, then grows into full-on, uncontrollable laughter.

I frown, confused. “What’s so funny?”

She shakes her head, still laughing so hard a tear slips down her cheek. I reach out instinctively, brushing it away with my thumb. My hand lingers, cupping her jaw, and she leans into the touch, her laughter tapering off into a soft, breathy sound.

“I just—” She looks up at me. “I didn’t expect you to say all that. I thought you’d agree, and we’d just . . . keep things casual.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to sell yourself so short,” I say, my tone softening. “You’re not a bad girlfriend, Birdie. You’re not anything bad. You’re just you. And that’s all I want.”

She stares at me, her eyes searching mine like she’s looking for a crack in my resolve. But she won’t find one. Not this time.

Finally, she lets out a shaky breath. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple,” I say. “I want to be with you. You want to be with me. Everything else? We’ll figure it out.”

Her gaze flickers to my lips. Slowly, she leans in, her hands resting lightly on my chest. And then she’s kissing me. Again.

She’s kissing me, and I’m sitting here like a fool, completely stunned, completely lost in the way she feels against me. Like everything else has fallen away, and it’s just her—soft and warm and perfect.

Our lips meet, and when she deepens the kiss by flicking her tongue against mine, something ignites inside me. My hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, guiding her until she swings one leg over my lap and straddles me.

“Birdie,” I murmur against her lips, my voice rough and unsteady. “Do you—”

She cuts me off with another kiss, her hands threading into my hair. “I want this,” she whispers, her breath warm against my mouth. “I’m sure.”

Her words melt my hesitation, and I kiss her harder. It’s messy and a little desperate, like we’re both trying to say a hundred things without pausing to breathe. She pulls back slightly, her forehead resting against mine, her hands cupping my face. Her thumbs trace soft, deliberate circles over my cheeks.

“You were right,” she whispers. “I am scared. But you . . . you make me feel like I don’t have to be.”

My chest tightens, and I let my hands settle on her thighs, squeezing gently. “You don’t,” I say firmly. “Not with me. I’ve got you, okay? If you don’t want to call me your boyfriend, that’s fine. But just know that I’m yours, no matter the title.”

She shakes her head, and a small, breathless laugh escapes her. “You can be my boyfriend, Liam.”

Relief crashes through me, so raw and overwhelming that it spills into my voice. “Great, I was really hoping you’d say that.”

Her laughter bubbles up again, warm and light, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day. Then she leans in, herlips brushing against mine, and this time, the kiss is deeper, hungrier, like we’ve both been holding back for too long.

My hands move instinctively, gripping her waist, sliding up her sides, feeling the heat of her through the soft knit of her sweater. She’s so close, so perfectly here, and I know I’ll never get enough of her—of this.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, sending shivers down my spine, every nerve in my body lighting up at once. The way she presses against me, the soft, breathy sounds she makes, the way her fingertips trace the edge of my jaw—it’s intoxicating. It’s everything.

My hands move to her lower back as she shifts on my lap. A low groan escapes me, and she gasps softly, her lips parting against mine. “Birdie,” I murmur, my voice unsteady.

“Mm.” Her lips trail along my jawline, down to the curve of my neck. My head falls back against the couch, my eyes fluttering shut as her mouth brushes a spot just beneath my ear, her teeth grazing my skin. A jolt of pleasure shoots through me.

I jerk my hips, unable to help myself, pressing my erection against her, and she lets out this soft, breathy sound that makes my entire body tighten. She shifts again, grinding down, and we both gasp at the friction.

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