Mia loves me.
I think—no, I know I love her too.
It makes no sense. It’s absolutely illogical.
But I do.
We do.
I guess love … it can’t be defined. It can’t be forced.
It can only be felt and there’s no controlling when or how or who you love.
You just do.
I lean over and kiss her.
Not her.
Mia.
The girl I love.
I’m kissing the girl I’ve fallen in love with.
I’ve never been in love before—lust, infatuation, sure I’ve felt that, but never love for someone who wasn’t family or a friend.
She angles her lips over mine, her fingertips light against the stubble on my cheek. I could kiss her for the rest of the day and night and never tire.
Pulling away, I keep her from moving with a hand on the nape of her neck. Our foreheads are pressed together and I look into her eyes.
“By the way, I’m totally turned on by the prospect of you calling me your boyfriend.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “You mean it doesn’t send you running in the other direction?”
“Once, it would have. Not with you.”
She smiles, it’s a small shy smile, one she usually only reserves for me. I cherish it.
“I don’t know how to tell my dad,” she admits.
I wince. “He’s going to be pissed.”
“He’s going to murder you,” she corrects.
I sigh. “If you want to tell him, we can. I’ll do what you want.”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. I want us to keep this between us for a little while longer. I need to think of a way to explain it to him, so he understands this is serious, before he goes off and doesn’t listen to a word I say. I don’t care if our friends know, but my dad … you see how he is. He’s so overprotective. I don’t want him to do anything stupid.”
“Like kill us?” I joke—but it’s a legitimate concern.
She nods. “He can be … spiteful.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Let’s just say this one guy I was dating ch
eated on me and he had his car impounded.”