My heartbeat picks up as he opens the door and steps inside.
He looks the same as always. Tall. Broad. Stoic.
He's wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt. It hugs his shoulders. It offers a peek of the roses tattooed to his chest.
I can't decide what saying I want on his chest.
Live so you can live.
Remember your mortality.
Seize the night.
Nothing comes from nothing.
Save me and I'll save you.
That's a hopeless fantasy. No one is saving me. You can't fix the ways I'm broken.
But he...
He could love me anyway.
It's possible. In theory.
He moves forward. Sets my laptop on my desk. "Forty-five minutes to go."
"Yeah. I should prepare."
"You need to prepare?"
"Sort of." Technically, no. But I want to be ready.
"Did you eat dinner?"
I stare back into his dark eyes. "I'm too nervous to eat."
"You need to eat something."
"It's my body. Not yours."
"We'll do this downstairs." He scoops my laptop back into his arms and takes a step backward. "I'll heat up dinner."
"Brendon. I don't have time—"
"You have forty-five minutes. Go shower. Change into something comfortable. I'll have your food ready."
I glare at him.
He glares back.
"You really are bossy and annoying."
"You just figure that out?"
"I'm usually the one on your side when Emma complains about you."
"That's because you're not around me twenty-four seven. Give it a few more weeks. You'll get sick of me."