The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 1)

“I asked you to marry me, and you said no.”

“Why did I say no?” Jameson is biting down on her lip to hide her smile. I can see her white teeth glowing against the light filtering into the room.

“Because I haven’t told you I love you yet.” My voice is small and aloof, because even though it was a dream, I feel like an asshole.

“Oh?”

And I haven’t, not yet. We’ve been together officially for more than half a year and all I’ve ever done is show her with my body how much I care. That part I’m stellar at. That part is easy. The sex. The affection. Holding hands. Whispered words across the library table. The way every now and again, she lets me fuck her in a study room.

Not once have I told Jameson how my heart feels about her, how I love her intelligence and sarcasm. How I love her quick wit, and the fact that she doesn’t put up with any of my shit. Or Zeke’s nonstop bullshit.

How I love her.

No wonder she keeps rejecting me in my own damn dreams.

I’m a dick.

“James?”

“Sebastian?” This time when she smiles, she doesn’t bother hiding it.

I roll over to face her, repositioned so we’re snuggled against each other in the center of the bed, her arms across my stomach. My fingers find and sweep away the stray hairs across her temple, and I stroke her forehead.

“I do, you know. Love you. More than probably anything.”

There. I said it.

And wouldn’t you know, her breath actually hitches—just like you see in the movies when the girl is so startled and pleased she loses her breath for a second.

“I know you love me.” Wistful and filled with wonder. “I love you, too.”

Somehow, it’s not enough. “For real though, babe. The only person I love more than you is myself.”

A loud laugh fills the otherwise darkened room. “Oh my god, tell me you did not just say that.”

Am I missing something here? “What’s so damn funny? I’m being serious.”

“The only person you love more than me is you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me?”

“So much.”

A floodgate opens, and now that I’ve said the words, they’re easier to say than I could have ever imagined.

“I love you.” My arms stretch toward her, dragging her flush against me then pulling her over my body. Hands grasping her face, I do my best to look in her eyes. “I love you.”

Our lips meet and she sighs.

“I love you, Jameson. I’m in love with you.”

“Desperately?” She breathes with a smile.

“So desperately.” I open my mouth for another kiss with tongue. “So fucking much.”

I don’t stop dreaming about us.

Won’t stop.

And when the time comes and I ask her to marry me and have cardigan-wearing babies?

She’s going to say yes.

The End