Page 137 of Only Ever You

“I don’t like it.” I slip the book back into the bag and step into him. “I love it. You’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. “Don’t make me wish we were alone right now.”

I bite my bottom lip, trying to hide my smile. “Too late. I’m sure you’re already thinking about it.”

“I am.” He drops his head and kisses me again, slow and gentle this time. “Damn, I love kissing you, but it’s really time for us to move on to our next spot.”

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we’re heading.”

“Good to know.”

And with that, he pulls me toward the exit.

At the park, we find a secluded bench and sit side by side. It’s windy here, but with Michael’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, I’m perfectly warm.

He pulls an envelope from the inside pocket of his bomber and hands it to me.

I can’t help but smile, my head dizzy. “What birthday is this for?”

“Eighteen.”

With my bottom lip trapped between my teeth, I open the envelope and pull out a picture. Eyes narrowed, I study it, and when I realize it’s a photo of Emi Lo, the English voice actor for Maomao in The Apothecary Diaries, I whip my head Michael’s way.

His eyes are full of mischief, lips curled into a smug smile. “Turn it around.”

I do as he tells me, and my jaw drops. To Isla is written on the back with Emi Lo’s autograph below it. The loud squeal that slips out of my mouth frightens a bird from a nearby tree.

“How?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “I know people.”

Head tilted, I bump his shoulder with mine. “No, you don't.”

He lets out a loud chuckle. “Okay, okay, my mom knows people in the publishing industry. She helped me out.”

I throw myself at him, hugging him, and he pulls me closer. For several heartbeats, we stay like that, enjoying the feeling and each other’s company.

“There’s one more present,” he finally says, shifting over.

“And what is it?”

He pulls out a little card and extends it to me. With an eyebrow arched, I note the QR code. I pull my phone out of my pocket and scan it. The Spotify app loads, and a playlist labeled ‘Songs that remind me of you’ appears.

My heart pitter patters and my hands tremble, making my phone shake. Tightening my grip, I scroll, reading each title. It’s full of songs I skated to throughout the years, songs we both loved. Songs we listened to in the car on the way to and from practice with our parents. Songs we sent each other before things fell apart.

With tears streaming down my face, I look up at him. “When did you put this together?”

“When I heard a song that made me think of you, I added it.”

“For how long? Since school started?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

He shakes his head, a sad smile on his face. “No. Since you left for Boston.”

A sob claws its way out of me.

He moves closer and hauls me to him. I hide my face in his chest, and he cups the back of my head, letting me cry. I am a mess, my emotions all over the place. I’ve spent years thinking the boy I loved never thought of me as more than a friend, and then, I was sure he hated me. Now, I’m learning that it always was the same for him.

That I was always the one he wanted.