Page 89 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

“I think I love you,” he says with a wiseass grin that takes me back to my apartment just over a year ago. He’s giving me my redo.

“I think I love you too.”

His dimple twitches, and he reaches out for my waist. I trip my way over to him, heart palpitating in the rhythm of the song I wrote for him, and I’m trying to erase my smile, but I can’t, so when his lips meet mine, I swear all he gets is teeth at first.

His hands dip into my jacket pockets as my arms wrap around his neck. He tastes like friendship and love and forever, and I want this moment to last just that long. But his lips pull away, and I watch as his brow furrows. He looks down at my jacket pocket and pulls on the long, red scarf I stuffed in there earlier. The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“You stole this from me.”

My jaw drops in mock shock. “I didnot. I won that fair and square.”

I poke him in the dimple. He pokes me in the side. We poke and laugh and redo yet another night, another moment, this time in equal parts love and friendship. He tosses the scarf over my head, lets it drop to my waist, then uses it to pull me in even closer. His breath is warm and good and everything I want in this moment, and whenever I ease forward into a kiss he leans back, like two opposite sides of a magnet.

“Kiss me, damn it,” I tell him.

He grins. “I’m just making sure nothing is going to interrupt us.”

I bite back my smile, debating whether to tell him about my role in the events of the evening. But he closes the gap between our lips, bringing me into another one of the purest and most perfect redos of my life. Maybe I’ll save it for him as a bedtime story.

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