Page 110 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

“Eight years and he never…” My voice wavered. “I thought it was my fault. That I wasn’t worth the effort? Or maybe it was justnormalto feel lonely, even when you were with someone.” My chest squeezed so tight it made it hard to breathe.

Alex continued to hold me safe, his eyes full of understanding. He didn’t speak, letting me continue as if he knew just how badly I needed to get the words out. These horrible, awful words I’d never spoken aloud, not even to my therapist. Shards of glass that’d been stuck inside my throat for almost a decade.

“But you…you’ve only known me two days,” I continued.

“Nearly three,” Alex interrupted. I snorted. His smile was even brighter this time, crinkles by his eyes and everything. Dimples too. The same smile I’d admired when he’d been dappled with sunlight in my parents’ backyard. The same smile that had charmed me on the hike earlier that day. The same smile that I’d received when I’d eaten all of his potato salad, after promising him I wouldn’t.

There was a lump in my throat I couldn’t seem to swallow.

“Three days…” I didn’t argue, “and you’ve already done more for me than he did.” It was true, he had. Alex had been nothing but a constant irritation and source of strength. He’d been a pillar of kindness, even when he’d teased.

“Isn’t that…I mean… Doesn’t that make me pathetic?” My voice cracked. “I stayed with him, Alex.Voluntarily. For a long time…I think I knew, deep down, it wasn’t right. But I stayed anyway. I stayed even though stayinghurt. Because I hoped one day…I’d be…enough? That we’d be happy. That I could be what he wanted if I just folded myself small enough.”

“I don’t think that makes you pathetic,” Alex answered, voice firm. We were whispering. There was no need to be loud when we shared every minty breath. I scoffed, trying to duck out of Alex’s grip—so I could escape what I’d just admitted—but Alex’s grip was unyielding. Squeezing me a little, his strong hands held me immobile. When he spoke again, I had no choice but to gaze at his mouth, then his nose, then his eyes—drinking in his every word, desperate to know what he thought.

“You’re loyal.”

“I’m…loyal?”

“Yeah.” Alex looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. Like he’d never understood me as clearly as he did now, standing in the dark, with only crickets and the stars for company. “You loved him.” He said that simply, even though my love for Brendon had never been simple. “You wanted things to work out. That’s theoppositeof pathetic. If anything…that’s pretty fucking admirable. At least, I think so.”

When I blinked, my lashes were wet.

“Loyal like Sam,” I responded, voice rough.

“Exactly.”

My smile was wobbly. Not at all as confident as he was. Not snappish and irritated as I often was when he was nearby. My walls had dropped, and in light of Alex’s high opinion of me, it was near impossible to pull them back up again. A reflex, nothing more. It could be trained away given time, if I let it.

I wasn’t sure I should.

This was just for practice, after all.

“I’m going to hug you now,” Alex warned. “Because you look like you need one. And hell, I could use one too, all things considered.”

I didn’t protest as he dropped my face and neck and pulled me in tight to his chest, tight enough my feet lifted from the ground and his back popped as he squeezed. “You’re a sweetheart, George-Arthur Milton,” Alex promised against my hair as I pushed at his chest, playfully fighting him to put me down. “I am honored to be yours.”

“Temporarily,” I reminded him.

“Temporarily?” he teased. It was a safety blanket. One that told us both what we were. That laid a line for us not to cross, so we wouldn’t be hurt again. “I thought you were a full-time sweetheart.” That hadn’t been what I was addressing, and he knew it.

But I played along.

“I’m not,” I countered, my ire softened by the smile I couldn’t seem to hide.

“You totally are,” Alex replied, squeezing me tight enough it was my turn to have my back pop. “Such a fucking sweetheart. So fucking cute, man. It’s ridiculous honestly.”

“All I do is snipe at you,” I replied, confused why he’d think any of this given the facts.

“Because you care,” Alex replied back. “And because it’s fun. Believe me, I get great joy out of sniping right back.”

Alex set me down but didn’t let me go. My chest was tight again, but this time, it was because he was still holding me close. Squeezing my bones together. It was easy to forget Brendon then, wrapped up in Alex as I was.

“If you ever stopped I’d think you’d been replaced by a pod person.”

“Or an alien.”

“Yeah, that.” Alex snorted, gave me another squeeze, and then released me. I didn’t even have time to mourn the loss of his sticky, summer warmth before he was flipping me around and steering me toward the picnic. “Now, stop ignoring all my hard work and thinking about other men?—”

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