Page 58 of Losers, Part II

“What did you bring?” I said, glancing down at the to-go box.

“Since you were busy telling off Greg, you didn’t have a chance to order dessert,” he said. “And that’s just criminal.” He opened the box, and I had to clap my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t squeal too loud.

“German chocolate cake? Oh my God, it’s my favorite!” It was a thick slice too, perfectly moist and layered with chocolate ganache. The sight of it alone was drool-worthy. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” he said, but the twinkle in his eye told me it was so much more than that.

It wasn’t a “lucky guess.” It was him paying attention, listening, watching, caring. It wasn’t luck, it was effort.

He knew me. He saw me.

That first bite of cake was practically orgasmic. My obvious pleasure made Manson smile even wider. He leaned back on one hand, holding his wine in the other. He’d taken his jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt a bit more. His hair was slicked back, but a few pieces had fallen loose and hung in his face.

Putting down the cake for a moment, I said, “You look so handsome.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he cleared his throat, shifting his position around. His smile turned remarkably shy as he said softly, “Thanks, Jess. I should clean up for you more often.”

“I like you dirty too,” I said. “You still look handsome covered in grease.”

He lowered his eyes, swirling his wine before he took a sip. When he looked up at me again, his expression made my heart skip a beat.

Like he was desperate. Like I was something awe-inspiring — perhaps even frightening.

“It was really nice of you to do this,” I said. “The flowers and the wine...thank you. I guess this adds a little to my debt, huh?”

“Debt?” He looked genuinely confused for a moment before realization dawned and he shook his head. “Oh, yeah. The engine. Ha.” He still had thatlook. Like he wanted so badly to say something, but he’d choked on the words and couldn’t get them out.

“Can you...” He started slowly, shaking his head as if he was aghast at his own request. “Can you close your eyes for me?”

Setting down my wine, I did as he said. The moment I closed them, his warm hand pressed over my eyes, ensuring that even if I opened them again, I still wouldn’t be able to see. He moved closer, scooting around our makeshift table until his knee bumped against mine.

“Sometimes, it’s too much when I look at you,” he said, his voice so soft and close. “Your eyes see too much of me.”

Reaching out, I grasped his free hand. He held me back, bringing the back of my hand to his lips so he could kiss it.

“I need to talk to you about your debt, Jess,” he said, and the seriousness in his voice made me tense up a bit. But he quickly reassured me, saying, “Nothing is wrong, that’s not it at all. I’m just...I’m trying to tell you...Ineedto tell you...”

There was a long silence, broken only by the breath he inhaled and slowly released.

“I don’t care about the money, Jess. It was never about the money.”

Frozen, I could barely breathe. He was holding my hand so tight, like he never wanted to let go.

“It’s about you. It’s...shit, Jess. I’d replace that engine a thousand times if it meant keeping you in my life.”

He leaned closer; although I couldn’t see him, I could feel him. The nearness — the heat of his skin, the soft touch of his lips.

“Every moment I have with you feels stolen,” he said. “Like God, or Satan, or whatever the fuck is out there is playing another trick on me. I don’t know if you’re ready to hear this yet. You probably aren’t, but I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t tell you. If you walk out of my life again...when the car is finished and the debt doesn’t matter anymore...if you choose to leave, I want you to know.”

For a moment, sitting there in darkness with him so close, it was like we were the only people in the world. My mind was racing, but I couldn’t form a single thought.

I already knew.

I knew, because he’d shown me.

But when he whispered those words in my ear, it stopped my world entirely.

“I love you.”