Which makes me even more determined to go to LA. with him.
“Reign, I —”
“If I couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from the ring,” he says, his features tight and sharp, “what makes you think I can stay apart from you when you’re wearing my ring?”
“But Reign, your dream. Your —”
“Dreams change, yeah?” He clutches my hand wearing his ring and brings it back to his chest. “It wasn’t even my dream before you came along. I wouldn’t evenknowthat I had this dream, if not for you. So I don’t fucking care. I don’t fucking care where I get to play as long as you’re with me. If I’m as fucking good as they say I am, my future is bright anywhere. I’llmakemy future anywhere. Besides, it’s my turn.”
“Your turn for what?”
“To compromise.”
“What?”
He shrugs. “We streamedDie Hardlast weekend when you wanted to watchNotting Hill. So this week, it’s my turn to give you what you want. Remember?”
I do.
We have this system where we take turns compromising. Because we realized as soon as we started dating that even though we have a lot of things in common, we have a lot of things that divide us as well. He likes action movies, while I like romantic ones. He loves Chinese food while I love Mexican. He likes to go on hikes and do athletic things while all I want to do is sit around my couch and read or write. He has no interest in books while I can’t stop talking about them.
So we devised a system where we both take turns to do the things that the other likes.
And yeah, it was my turn last week to compromise, which means it’s his turn now.
I fist his hoodie. “This is more than a movie and takeout, Reign.”
His jaw clenches. “I know. Which means it’s going to happen, so you need to get with it and soon.”
My heart is squeezing in my chest. “I can’t… I can’t believe you’d do that for me.”
His grip on my body flexes. “I’m doing it for me. I’m sick, remember?”
This guy.
I love him so much. So so much.
“I’m sick too,” I whisper, placing a soft kiss on his mouth. “Which means when I graduate, it’s my turn. To go where you go. To do what you do.”
And then before he can say anything, I go for another kiss and this time when we come up for air, our foreheads are resting together and I’m up in his arms with my thighs around his waist.
Smiling, I whisper, “So I don’t think you’re my boyfriend anymore.”
“Yeah, so what am I?”
My smile widens. “Fiancé.”
“Not for long though.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m thinking Saturday.”
“Saturday for what?”
He squeezes me with his arms. “For getting married.”
That gives me a pause. “You mean this coming Saturday?”