Love You Better (Better Love 1)

“Jacob,” I spit. “I missed calls from him because I was making out with you in a car like a teenager. That’s not okay, Kelley. Today never would have happened if I’d kept him a priority.”

“Not gonna stop making out like teenagers in cars, but I’ll never be offended if you stop whatever we’re doing to talk to Jacob. Even if my face is between your legs.” He flashes a smirk, and I bristle at the way my body heats in response. “But Jacob will never not be a priority, for either of us. I promise. We can come home on the weekends. You can tell me when you’re gonna call him, and I’ll do the same. If you’ve got something you need to do, I won’t get in the way. Keep going.”

“This is ridiculous,” I huff. “You really just want me to pencil you into my life like an appointment? Schedule time with you in my planner?”

“Yes.” He’s so matter of fact. So firm and certain.

“And what about our friendship, Kelley? What about that? Romantic relationships aren’t dependable. They’re statistically likely to fail. What if we try this and it doesn’t work and we let each other down and it all just explodes? We’ll be crushed. I’ll be crushed.”

I blink back my tears and try to keep my voice from trembling.

Kelley shakes his head slowly and takes a step toward me. When he speaks, his voice is low and sincere. I’m embraced by it.

“I’ve been in love with you since ninth grade, Ivy Jean Rivenbark. I didn’t always know it, and I tried like hell for a long time to ignore it, but it’s true.”

He takes my hands in his and pulls me closer before continuing.

“For years, I’ve been that damn bachelor with the cornflower pinned to my fucking lapel, even when I tried to pretend like I wasn’t. And here’s the thing. I thought for certain that my stupid cornflower was wilted, that it was dead because you didn’t return my feelings, and I was just a dumb fuck holding on to some ridiculous dead symbolic flower. And I swear, I was okay with that. I had accepted it. But then you kissed me at Keggers, and I realized I was wrong. You have feelings for me, too, Ivy. Maybe you always have, and you didn’t know it, but you definitely do now, and there’s no turning back. We’re in it too deep.”

He kisses my knuckles, and I shiver at his touch. His words wash over me, and I can feel their truth thrumming through my bloodstream.

“That, right there,” he continues, brushing his lips over my hand once more, “the way your body ignites under my touch. The way you’re drawn to me, like a magnet, craving me. I feel that same way. I feel it all. You can’t fake stuff like this. And I know you’re scared, and I know you’re thinking of all the ways this relationship could fail or end badly, but you’re not considering everything. I know you, Ivy. I know you better than anyone. I know your mind, I know your heart, and I know your soul as if they were my own. You know what that means?”

I’m speechless. My heart is racing. All I can do is shake my head and watch him, completely enthralled by this man. My best friend.

“It means I’m going to love you better than anyone can. The only person who will ever love you better than me is yourself, but I’m going to spend all of my life trying to match you. And when your self-love falters, when you doubt yourself or us, my heart will carry yours. I’ll love you big enough for the both of us. I always have, and if you let me, I always will.”

There’s no stopping my tears now. I’m flooded with emotions, and I can’t hold them back any longer. I don’t even want to.

“You spend so much time taking care of everyone else, loving everyone with your big heart and your brilliant mind, but you don’t have to do it alone. Let me take care of you, too. I know it’s not part of your plan. I know it’s scary. I know it’s unfamiliar territory, but we can navigate it together.”

We’re so close now that our chests are pressed together, and I can feel his heart beating against me. It feels like it’s in sync with my own. Silent tears stream down my face, and he closes his eyes and leans his forehead on mine.

“Let me love you, Ivy,” he whispers, his warm breath fanning over my lips, cooling the tear tracks on my cheeks. “I’ll do it better than anyone else can. I swear it.”

I swallow, my eyes closed tight, and we just stand there for a moment. Feeling each other, breathing each other in. Absorbing everything.

“That’s quite the argument, Kelley,” I say with a quiet laugh trying to lighten the mood, and I can feel his small smile.

“Was it enough

to sway opposing counsel? Did I convince the jury?”

“Oh, Kelley,” I cry, and then I kiss him.

Without breaking the kiss, I attempt to pull Kelley into the house, fumbling over the threshold and stumbling backward before he wordlessly lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

“Bedroom,” I whisper, and on light footsteps, he carries me up the stairs toward my childhood room.

Both hands on my butt, he nudges the door open with his hip, walks us in, and then kicks it shut behind him. He trips over something, stumbles a bit, and I grip him tighter.

“Shit,” he grunts.

“You almost dropped me!” I squeal, and we try to stifle our laughter.

“If you’d pick up your shoes, I wouldn’t have tripped. Slob,” he teases, and I bite his shoulder, making him laugh more.

“Hush.” I giggle against his lips as he sets me on the bed. “I don’t want to wake them.”