29.

                                    

                                          
2 9 | h y a m s
                          
I WOKE UP TO LIGHT streaming in through the curtains and Everett's arm tight around my waist. I blinked through the tired blur of my vision, immediately remembering what happened last night.
                          
Austin had kissed me. He'd admitted to knowing about my crush on him all along. And after ten years of waiting, I'd ended it myself. I wasn't going to be his second choice anymore.
                          
And then I'd come here for Everett. And his skin had scalded mine until we fell asleep on his mattress, our legs tangled together, my face pressed against his chest.
                          
I stilled beneath his grip, not wanting to wake him – not yet. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. His face was settled into a gentle smile, the corners of his lips tilting up. His hair was messy and fell onto his forehead in a way that made me want to run my fingers through it.
                          
Instead, I scanned the rest of him. The blanket had been pulled away to reveal his upper body. My face flushed as I realised Everett was still shirtless from last night. 
                          
Carefully, I rested a hand against his chest, tracing the barely-there abs and freckles across olive toned skin. I smiled, pressing a palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slowly, feeling the gentle thrum against my fingertips – a reminder that he was here, and this was real. 
                          
Then, it was speeding up and his eyes were open, looking at me.
                          
I warmed, realising he'd caught me practically fondling him in his sleep.
                          
"Everett," I started to say, my voice raspy with sleep. I moved to pull my arm away, but he stopped me, taking my hand and pressing it back against his chest.
                          
His heart was racing like crazy now and he leaned closer, his voice a raspy whisper by my ear.
                          
"See what you do to me?"
                          
I swallowed thickly, ignoring the embarrassed heat spreading from my chest to my neck. I pulled my hand out of his grip and sat up, the mattress shifting beneath me. He watched me from his pillow, his lips tilted in an amused smirk at my reaction.
                          
"So," I said slowly, unsurely. I hated the way he made my stomach churn – a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "What does this mean for us?"
                          
He sat up with me, taking my hand into his and tangling our fingers together. I smiled at the gesture – at how comfortable our palms felt pressed against each other.
                          
"Isla," he said, his voice still husky. "Will you be my girlfriend?"
                          
My heart leapt into my throat. 
                          
"But you're leaving soon," I said.
                          
"Doesn't matter." He squeezed my hand and despite the blush kissing his cheeks, he settled me with a determined look full of fire and confidence. "I want to be with you. I want to spend my last few weeks here dating you. I'll take you anyway I can get you – for a minute. For a day. For a week. I want you."
                          
"Not Charlotte?" I half-joked.
                          
He scoffed, rolling his eyes and sending me a snide smirk. "She was never an option."
                          
He leaned closer, briefly brushing his lips over my mouth before resting his forehead against mine.
                          
"You'll never be my second choice, Isla," he said, his voice dropping to a low drawl.
                          
I smiled, leaning forward to press my lips against his in a quick, chaste kiss. He leaned into it, but I pulled away, my face warm and smile growing.
                          
"Okay, fine," I teased, rolling my eyes. "If you insist, I'll go out with you."
                          
"I guess you do like Americans after all."