Page 68 of Rewriting the Story

I look over at him leaning over the cart, smiling at me with confusion written all over his face. I smile back at him, grabbing two pomegranates and setting them in the cart.

The rest of our shopping goes on without a hitch, and he puts the bags in the car as I hold the umbrella for him, walking him to and from the cart return so he doesn't get wet. The two of us get into my car, and I start it, wanting to get warm for a few seconds before I start to drive us back to campus. As I do, I feel Henry’s hand on my forearm.

“Mills?”

“What?” I don’t like the look on his face. Is he about to say something stupid? Leave it to me to find out I love this man, only for him to break up with me. “Is something wrong?”

He smiles, shaking his head as he reaches for my hand on the wheel, interlocking it with his. “No. I wanted to do our debrief about the playlist now, if that’s okay?”

Seeing him look at me, his eyes cast down behind his glasses, a soft smile on his face as I hear the rain tapping against the windows, the low light of the parking lot casting shadows across his features, I’m ruined.

His love is the only romantic feeling I’ve ever felt, and all I know now is, I don’t want to experience this from anyone else. His love is all I want to know for however long I have it. I’d hope for forever, but I can’t think too far ahead, or I’ll panic. So just for now, for however long I’m able, I’m going to love this man in front of me.

“That’s okay, Hen,” I say as I squeeze his hand, placing our interlocked hands in my lap as I turn to face him from the driver's seat. “Was my playlist that good?”

“It always is, Ames.” He smiles to himself again, and the weirdest feeling floats through my body as he keeps talking. “But this one felt different.”

“It did?”

He nods.

“Why is that?” I reach for my necklace, suddenly feeling nervous. I never touch it, though, because he grabs my other hand and stops my nervous tick.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this, but you speak through music. I think it’s something you’ve always done, and I wanted you to know it’s been an honor trying to decipher you through the songs we’ve shared. In fact, us meeting at a concert just confirms my theory.”

“And what theory is that?”

“Now, don’t throw up on me, but I think you and I were fated to meet, Mills. I think something out there knew our paths had to cross, and I am thankful for whatever cosmic force sent us together.”

My breath catches in my throat. “You are?”

“I am.” He squeezes both of my hands. “Because it’s been an honor being able to share music with you. It’s been an honor to peek inside your thoughts through each song you choose to share with me. You’ve changed the way I view music. You’re one of a kind, Amelia Ellis, and I’m grateful I broke down most of those walls while we were still just friends.”

That earns an eye roll, but he simply laughs, as if he knew that was coming.

“I know you hate emotions and stuff like this, but… Shit, I don’t know how to even fucking say this.”

“You might just be the only writer on the planet who can’t find words to say something, Hen.” I lean closer to him, and all he does is tap his forehead to mine.

“I’m a big believer that everything happens for a reason, Mills. I think meeting you was proof of that for me.”

“What does that mean?” I ask him, and suddenly, all I can focus on is the rain, his eyes, and the turning in my stomach.

“I love you.”

My breath catches in my throat as I digest three words I haven't heard in a long time from anyone other than my friends. I don’t think my parents haven't said them to me since I was small, and if they did, I don’t remember it.

“I know this could make you retreat from me, but I can’t spend another second of you not knowing. I couldn't spend another second pretending like I’m not hopelessly in love with the way you view music, the way you touch the necklace I bought you because it brings you comfort. I can’t keep pretending silently grocery shopping with you isn't my favorite part of the week because even though we’re not saying a word, we’re still saying so fucking much.” He presses a small kiss to my forehead. “And I can’t keep almost saying those words before you leave but getting worried it’s not the right time. I love you, and I don’t want to spend another second without you knowing that.”

Paige always tells us Henry and I have telepathic conversations when we’re in a room full of people, and I never knew what she meant. Yeah, I can tell what he means just from a look sometimes, but I think tonight might actually be the first real evidence of us communicating telepathically.

“If you end up running from me, just know I’ll be chasing you, Amelia, because I love you. I hope that’s something you realize you can’t outrun.”

I feel tears spring to my eyes as I look up at him, his eyes also gleaming in the middle of this parking lot in the rain.

“All I know is that I love you too, Hen, and believe me, I never want to outrun you, no matter how terrified my own feelings make me feel.”

He jumps back, as if he wasn't expecting me to say that. “You love me?”

---