Page 68 of Stranger Danger

I hold out the heart. “Tell me this says something like, 4ever on it.”

He gingerly takes it from me, his wet fingers dissolving the top and sides of the heart until it’s more rounded and the green looks dark blue.

“XOXO.”

“Fuck the universe, man.”

I burst out laughing, and he joins me, his head dropping onto my shoulder. I wrap my arms around his neck to keep him here, to feel the way his entire body relaxes against mine like a giant weighted blanket.

For a minute, we’re both quiet.

An engine roars through the rain, tires sloshing over the puddles outside as it pulls into a spot somewhere near us. I hold my breath as the door shuts—

Beep, beep.

Shit.

“XOXO is the gold standard,” Beckett breathes against my skin. “It’s perfect.”

“Yeah… I guess.”

It’s a little difficult to be excited about anything right now.

He lifts his head, and his eyes catch the dim light from the streetlamp a few cars down—green and sharp and looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world. “I’m serious. Stay with me forever.”

Hearing it a second time is enough to melt my insides and the last exhausted brain cell left in my head.

We don’t know if there’s a tomorrow, let alone a forever.

“Only if you marry me,” I say dryly, eyebrows raised.

Everything about it screams joke.

Except he doesn’t laugh.

I’m half a second away from clarifying “haha, funny moment, Beckett” when he nods.

“Okay.”

My heart beats once. Hard. I open my mouth—to drill home the fact that I wasn’t serious—but nothing comes out except this weird, little giggle I kind of hate. I really love his smile, though. It lights up his entire face, blinding and brilliant, before he rubs his cheek gently, wincing.

Then he sits back on his heels and runs his hands through his hair.

“We’ll move across the country.” He’s talking so fast it’s hard to keep track of the words. “Or to Mexico. Or Canada—I don’t know about border control, but we’ll figure it out. We’ll start over. Introduce ourselves as a married couple. We have enough money for a hotel for a month or two until we figure it out—”

“Slow down—”

“—I used to tutor kids. I know there’s always a market for good SAT and ACT scores no matter where we go. Even if it’s not a lot of income, everything helps. I know I can find someone to help with IDs, but it’s sketchy—”

I sit up quickly. “You what?”

“We can make this work.” His voice breaks in half, and I watch one tear slide down his face. Then another. “This is our plan.”

Okay.

Okay, maybe this is something to get excited about. Maybe. But neither of us are firing on all cylinders. My brain opened twenty new tabs, and one of them keeps playing “Oh, Canada,” in the background like it’s a movie score. If I can barely concentrate, I can only guess how he feels.

I grab both of his hands and squeeze until he squeezes back.