Home > All Your Perfects(17)

All Your Perfects(17)
Author: Colleen Hoover

“I love fruit. And tomatoes. But I’m not really a fan of anything green. I’ve tried to love vegetables but I finally decided last year to accept that I hate them and force nutrition into my diet in other ways.”

“Do you like to work out?”

“Only in emergencies,” I admit. “I like doing stuff outdoors, but not if it’s routine exercise.”

“I like to run,” he says. “It clears my head. And I love every single vegetable except tomatoes.”

“Uh-oh. Not looking good, Graham.”

“No, it’s perfect. You’ll eat my tomatoes, I’ll eat every other vegetable on your plate. Nothing goes to waste. It’s a perfect match.”

I like his way of looking at it. “What else? Movies and food only scratch the surface.”

“We could talk politics and religion but we should probably save those two for after we’re in love.”

He says that so confidently, but also like he’s kidding. Either way, I agree we should avoid politics and religion. Those lead to arguments even when people agree. “Definitely cool with not touching those two.”

Graham grabs my wrist and slides it out from under my head. He threads his fingers through mine and rests our hands between us. I try not to focus too much on how sweet I think it is. “What’s your favorite holiday?” he asks.

“All of them. But I’m partial to Halloween.”

“Not what I expected you to say. Do you like it for the costumes or the candy?”

“Both, but mostly the costumes. I love dressing up.”

“What’s the best costume you ever wore?”

I think about it for a moment. “Probably when my friends and I went as Milli Vanilli. Two of us talked the whole night while the other two stood in front of us and mouthed everything we said.”

Graham rolls onto his back and laughs. “That’s pretty spectacular,” he says, staring up at the ceiling.

“Do you dress up for Halloween?”

“I’m not opposed to it but I never dressed up with Sasha because she always went as something typical and slutty. A slutty cheerleader. A slutty nurse. A slutty prude.” He pauses for a second. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a slutty costume. Nothing wrong with a woman showing off her assets if that’s what she wants to do. It’s just that Sasha never really asked me to dress up. I think she wanted all the attention and didn’t really want to do the couples costume thing.”

“That sucks. So much missed opportunity.”

“Right? I could have dressed up as her slutty quarterback.”

“Well, if we’re still talking when Halloween rolls around, we can wear matching slutty costumes.”

“Still talking? Quinn, Halloween is over two months away. We’ll practically be living together by then.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re way too confident.”

“You could call it that.”

“Most men push for sex right away. But you turn me down one night and show up six months later just to turn me down again and force me into conversation. I can’t tell if I should be worried.”

Graham raises an eyebrow. “Don’t mistake me for something I’m not. I’m normally all for the sex up front, but you and I have an eternity to get to it.”

I can tell he’s kidding by the straight face he tries to keep. I lift up on my pillow and raise my brow. “Sex I’m okay with. Eternal commitment is pushing it.”

Graham slides an arm beneath me and pulls me against him so that my head is now resting on his chest. “Whatever you say, Quinn. If you want us to pretend for a few more months that we aren’t soul mates, that’s fine with me. I’m a great actor.”

I laugh at his sarcasm. “Soul mates don’t exist.”

“I know,” he says. “We aren’t soul mates. Soul mates are dumb.”

“I’m serious.”

“Me too. Completely serious.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He presses his lips into my hair, kissing me on top of the head. “What is today’s date?”

He is so random. I lift my head and look at him. “The eighth of August. Why?”

“Just want to make sure you never forget the date the universe brought us back together.”

I lay my head against him again. “You’re coming on way too strong. It’s probably going to scare me away.”

His chest moves with his quiet laughter. “No, it won’t. You’ll see. Ten years from now on August eighth, I’m going to roll over in our bed at midnight and whisper, ‘I told you so’ in your ear.”

“Are you that petty?”

“The pettiest.”

I laugh. I laugh a lot while we talk. I don’t know how long we lay in the same position talking, but I still have a million questions left when I start yawning. I fight it because talking to him is somehow even more relaxing than sleep and I want to ask him questions all night.

Graham eventually goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When he comes back to the bedroom, he turns off the lamp and climbs in bed behind me, spooning me. It’s honestly not what I expected tonight. Especially with the way he approached me at the restaurant and then showed up at my apartment. I thought he had one thing on his mind.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I wrap my arms over his and close my eyes. “I thought you were kidding about the no sex,” I whisper.

I feel him laugh a little. “Keeping my pants on is not as easy as I’m making it look.” He pushes against my ass to let me know how serious he is. I can feel him straining against his jeans.

“That must be painful,” I tease. “You sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

He squeezes me tighter, pressing a kiss close to my ear. “I’ve never been more comfortable.”

His words make me blush in the dark, but I don’t respond to him. I don’t have a reply good enough. I’m quiet for several minutes as I listen to his breathing slow into a peaceful pattern. Right before I fall asleep, Graham whispers against my ear. “I thought you were the one that got away.”

I smile. “I still could be.”

“Don’t be.”

I try to say, “I won’t be,” but he puts his hand between my cheek and the pillow and tilts my head until his mouth reaches mine. We kiss just enough. Not too short, but not too long that it leads to something else. It’s the perfect kiss for the perfect moment.

Chapter Ten

* * *

Now

“Two more lipsticks,” Gwenn says. She slides the bright red tube of lipstick over my top lip but goes so far outside of the edges, I feel it touch my nose.

“You’re really good at this,” I say with a laugh.

We’re at Graham’s parents’ house, having dinner with his family. Graham is on the floor playing with his sister Caroline’s five-year-old daughter, Adeline. The three-year-old, Gwenn, is on the couch next to me, putting makeup on me. Graham’s parents are in the kitchen, cooking.

This is how most of our Sundays are spent. I’ve always enjoyed Sundays here, but lately they’ve become my favorite days of the month. I don’t know why things are easier here, surrounded by Graham’s family, but they are. It’s easier for me to laugh. It’s easier for me to look happy. It’s even easier for me to let Graham love me.

I’ve noticed there’s a difference with how I am toward Graham in public compared to when we’re at home. At home, when it’s just the two of us, I’m more withdrawn. I avoid his touch and his kiss because in the past, those things have always led to sex. And now that I dread sex so much, I dread the stuff that leads up to it, too.

But when we’re in a setting like this, when his affection leads to nothing, I crave it. I like it when he puts his hands on me. When he kisses me. I love snuggling up to him on the couch. I don’t know if he notices the difference in me between our house and other places. If he does, he’s never let on.

“I finish,” Gwenn says. She struggles putting the cap back on the lipstick she just applied to my mouth. I take it from her and help her close it.

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