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“I felt like I'd been dumped onto a deserted beach. There was the ocean on one side and a dark forest on the other. No map to guide me, no radio for rescue. It was just me, alone, and I had to choose between drowning and walking into the unknown." He shook his head. "You wouldn't have drowned." I raised my eyebrows. "No?" "You would have found a way to make some kind of machete and hacked your way through that forest no matter what. You're tough." He smiled a little. "It's what makes you such a pain in my ass." I snorted at his crassness, and I felt another emotion sneaking in alongside my respect for his drive and his talent. Liking. I liked this man.”

“I love strawberry ice cream." I blinked, confused. "Yes, I saw you chugging your In-N-Out milkshakes like you'd spent forty days in the desert. But what does that have to do with feelings?" He tugged my hand. "No, listen. I mean, I've always ordered it whenever I go to an ice cream store, because I know I like it, even the cheap kind that's like the Ghost of Strawberries Past. Until I met you, I was basically treating my life like strawberry ice cream. I'd found something that I was good at, that I knew worked for me, and just did that, day in, day out. I told myself that this was what it took to be successful, but deep down I was afraid of fucking up, just the same way my parents are terrified of fucking up. I was afraid if I got close to someone, I'd make a mess and disappoint them. "But now, with you, I want to try the whole ice cream parlor. I want to order, like, a monster sundae with all the crazy flavors I can think of. Blueberry cheesecake and mocha almond fudge and mango sorbet." It still wasn't adding up. "You want to try new things because of me?" "I want to be brave," he said earnestly. "To give my all to everything, even though it might not work out." He swallowed hard. "You're so strong, Ellie, and you believe in me. I want to be worthy of that. Worthy of your faith and your strength.”

“After I'd polished off one pastry and was halfway through a second, he asked, "Happy pastry?" The laugh bubbled up around my mouthful of blackberry jam and vanilla custard. I swallowed and said, "Understatement. Ecstatic pastry. Delighted pastry. I-love-you pastry." He cracked up. "Wow, strong words. All I had to do was bring you the finest croissants in the land." I put my plate on the nightstand and crawled to him. "Please don't think you have to buy me fancy pastry all the time so I'll stay in love with you." "What do I have to do?" He set his plate aside. "Spoil Floyd rotten? Make you shrimp for dinner every day?" "Be yourself," I said. His wolfish grin was gorgeous, and when I kissed him, his joy was buttery sweet on my tongue.”

“But Ellie's fingertips brushed over my cheekbone, soft as rose petals. Traced my temple, my jawline. She touched me like I was precious. No one in my entire life had been gentle with me. And her lips said, "I'm here" and "Be mine." But wait. She was faking it. We both were. A fake kiss could taste like vanilla milkshakes and prosecco and feel like floating on a cloud.”

“It felt like chicken soup when I had a snotty mess of a cold, like a glass of icy apple juice when my body was on fire with fever. I didn't disappear into his embrace like I had in Max's, but he was still strong and comforting and almost like relief. I buried my face in his shoulder, and he found the sweet spot on my back again, rubbing it until I wanted to purr. But then my skin prickled, and suddenly I genuinely felt feverish. It was only supposed to be a hug with a friend, not me climbing him like a tree.”