Page 83 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

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Alec’s laughing again. I think that’s worse than the almost kissing. Laughing is joy and fun and all things good in this world and I want to hate Rian for making him laugh, but I also am happy that he’s laughing. It’s a weird jumble of emotions running through me as I watch from across the busy street next to a pile of snow that’s been shoveled from the walks.

They’re in Times Square, Alec’s favorite place in the entire world. She’s leaning against him, and his arms are around her small fame, rocking her to a song he’s most likely humming in her ear. I thought I’d felt pain before. I’ve broken two bones, I’ve had my appendix burst, I’ve tripped and slipped and bled and bruised, and I’d willingly experience all of that again just to take my mind off the piercing stabs of heartache I’m experiencing now.

It could be anything that’s making him laugh and smile like this, though. It could be Times Square itself. It could be the spirit of Valentine’s Day. Or maybe he’s realized that holding Rian feels so so wrong and he wants to hold me again, and this time he’s going to say he means it. He’s still in love and he’ll spot me here across the street and we’ll run toward each other in slow motion.

Yes, he’s in love withme. That’s what’s going on, I’m sure of it! I take a determined step forward only to get sideswiped by a passerby, toppling me right into the pile of snow.

Oh sweet merciful heavens, I’m a class-A lunatic. The man I love is having a good time, and what have I done? I threw a basketball at his face! I’ve lost control over my mind and body and I need to think straight for a second. I need a sobering, sensible thought.

I take a look at the snow pile and suddenly jam my hands into it, letting the cold shock my skin into reacting the way it should. I shove a fistful into my face, make a snowball and stuff it down my dress. I cover myself in the cold, cold snow until my skin is red and burning and my mind is free of all types of debauchery.

“Uh…are you all right?” a stranger with bright white teeth asks as he walks by. I nod and say something that doesn’t make sense, but it convinces him to leave the strange woman alone with her snow. I glance over my shoulder to get one last look at Alec, half hoping that the sight of him will bring back just enough insanity for me to make this night what it was meant to be, but he’s gone. I have no idea what direction they went, and I make my way across the street to see if I can spot them.

All I see are lovers, holding hands and exchanging sweet kisses and putting roses in their hair and sharing chocolates. I remind myself to grab a box of assorted chocolates to keep me company when I get home.

Blond hair catches my eye, and I know his gait. I see him through the crowd, though Rian is hidden because of her height. It’s easier to see him this way, seemingly alone. I could run, push my way through, grab his arm, and spit out everything I’ve been holding in for this night.

I could…but at the same time, Ican’t. What if Jackson’s right? What if fate had a way of turning things around because wearen’tmeant to be? He’s no longer in love, and our night together was just that. He didn’t even say anything about the tattoo—whether he saw it, whether he knew what it truly meant.

I put a hand on my hip, over the satin of my dress. Three weeks agohishand was gripping me here, running all over my body. He had to have seen it—the ink I’d permanently etched into my skin for him…for me. I’d been thinking that maybe he didn’t see it because the room was dark, because his eyes never left mine while we shared ourselves with each other. But maybe hedidsee it. Maybe he left me alone the next morning because he got over me a long time ago. Maybe he thought that night together didn’t mean anything to me, so he made sure it didn’t mean anything to him.

My mouth goes dry and I try to swallow, but can’t. I pull my hand away from my hip and twist it up in my scarf. The fabric drags down my neck, exposing my skin to the chilled air. I tuck it in my pocket as I watch his blond head get farther and farther away until I can no longer see it.

Fate has won tonight.

THREE WEEKS, TWO DAYS AGO: 1:09A.M.

I run a hand over my hip, the skin finally healed enough that I don’t flinch every time I touch it. My first tattoo—I’m a rare breed, I know. But I’ve always been the indecisive type, so I never got one before because I knew I’d just want something else in its place two days later. But this one will stick, and not just because it has to now.

With one giant breath I release the thin black fabric of my shirt and let it fall over the ink, hiding it until I’m ready for him to see. I sit up on the bed in Alec’s spare bedroom, too wired to sleep now. I was dozing on his couch not two hours ago and he teased me until I crawled in here. The second I saw the hall light turn off I’ve been contemplating getting up and joining him. I’ve spent a good hour with my internal debate team.

Alec’s room is a mystery to me. For all the hours he’s spent at my place, inmyroom, one would think he’d be comfortable with reciprocating the access. Yet whenever I’m over, he steers me toward the second bedroom if I needed to crash or change, just the way he did tonight. His own door is always closed, and I tease him on having a weird fetish. He admits to nothing, and blocks me every time I try to go in there. At some point the game became more fun than the actual idea of entering the mystery room. The moments when I got so close that he had to lock his arms around my waist and swing me in the other direction became what I was really after. He has such great arms, such a great laugh. dpgroup.

My toes barely tap the carpet as I creep to that door I’ve never been through, knowing that most of the mystery will still remain, since it’s past sunset and I can barely see five feet in front of me.

I pause at the doorknob. I wonder how it’s going to smell, if there are posters adorning the walls. Is he as messy as I am, as neat as he is everywhere else in his place, or somewhere in the middle? I wonder how he sleeps in his bed—if he’s all over the place or stationary all night long.

I let out a small breath of relief when his door opens soundlessly. The sweet and comforting scent I’m so familiar with wafts through the air in one large, concentrated dose, rocking me on my already unsteady bare feet.

He’s snoring.

He snores?

I didn’t know he was a snorer. Every time we’ve fallen asleep, I always went out first. He was the one to stay up and watch me doze off into dreamland. It seems unfair all of a sudden—that he got to see me at my most vulnerable when I never took the opportunity to see him. I can’t help but sneak forward, suppressing an amused grin at the nasal noises.

A slight breeze hits me, and I let my gaze drift from the lump in the bed to the open window, the curtains that frame it blowing slightly with the night air. Guilt gives me a subtle kick in the ribs as I remember what he said:I can’t sleep without a fan.He let me borrow that fan last week, and I’m horrible when it comes to remembering to return things.

I watch the blue curtains flap against the wall. “I’m bringing it back tomorrow,” I quietly promise.

Suddenly a snort comes from the bed.

Making myself as small as possible, I creep to the bottom of the bed, taking steady breaths, begging my heart rate to calm. It’s Alec. Just a friend. We’ve established that plenty of times. He knows about Eli and how much it hurts to go over the line of friendship and into something more. But when I push my knee into the mattress, letting my weight settle into the bed and ruffle the comforter, I feel the line slowly start to fade. I’m not sure what the line is; I’m not even sure if there is a line anymore.

Alec’s snores soften, like he knows I’m here right beside him inhaling his scent, reveling in the fact that I’m not alone, he’s not alone—we have each other, and it’s okay to have each other. His body stretches, and I dodge his arm as it comes up over his head. He rubs one sleepy eye before popping it open. When he comprehends that I’m sitting in front of him, his other eye shoots open and he sits up with a gasp.

“Jesus,” he says, his voice gravelly with sleep and surprise.

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