Love You More(14)

I studied his face as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. “I believe in you, Billie. I’d bet on you every single time.”

The words landed with a strange force, not just comfort but recognition—like he could see the part of me I worked so hard to hide. The messy, ambitious part that wanted more than Wisconsin, more than the safe choice.

“Thank you, Mick,” I said. “That means a lot.”

I stared into his eyes, then confessed the rest. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want you to, either. But I can’t be the reason you don’t go to Yale.”

I let out a long sigh.

“And anyway—if we’re meant to be together, the distance won’t matter,” he said.

My heart fluttered at the mention of a future together. Words that had lived in me for years came to the surface.

“I love you, Mick,” I said.

“I love you more,” he whispered.

“Not possible. I wish you could be inside my head. Then you’d know—”

“I wish I could be inside you everywhere,” Mick said, smiling.

I smiled back, but my body flushed hot. “Me too,” I said.

“We said we’d wait.” His eyes searched mine.

“I don’t want to wait.”

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Very sure.”

Clothes slipped away, skin meeting skin. He kissed me, the taste of beer still on his lips, the scratch of his jaw against my cheek—every detail branded itself into me.

At one point, he fumbled for a condom in his wallet. I helped him put it on before we kissed again.

When he finally eased inside, I winced. He brushed my hair back from my face, searching me.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”

He moved slowly, his breath turning ragged. I matched him, counting heartbeats, anything to stay calm. It hurt at first, but the pain thinned to warmth. Our bodies found a rhythm before he finally shuddered against me, then stilled. It wasn’t fireworks—it was something quieter, deeper. A surrender. His body pressed to mine, his heartbeat against my ribs, until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

“I’m sorry I didn’t last longer,” he whispered. “You felt too good.”

“It was perfect.”

“Next time will be better.”

My heart raced thinking about it. I hoped there would always be a next time.

I curled against him, fireflies blinking around us.

And somewhere in that moment, my decision arrived—quiet but absolute.

“I’m going to Madison with you,” I whispered.

“Billie. No. You can’t do that.”

His resistance only made me more certain.

“Yes, I can. And I’m going to. So please don’t fight me on it.”

He paused, then whispered into my ear, “Okay. I won’t.”

He held me for a long time after that. When I finally met his gaze, he was smiling.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m thinking that you’re about to be my college girlfriend.”



* * *



—

That weekend, Erin and I sat on the dock at Pewaukee Lake. The clouds drifted lazily across a bright blue sky. We sat in easy silence, listening to the lap of water against the pilings until I finally spoke.

“So I have some news,” I said, a shy smile tugging at my mouth.

She spun around to face me, legs crossed. “Oh my God! Did you and Mick do it?”

Her voice ricocheted across the lake.

I shushed her, then nodded, giggling.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.

For a second, I felt self-conscious, but then I let the words spill out. I told her it was awkward and painful but beautiful, too. I told her how close I felt to him now—and that we’d both said “I love you.”

“Wilhelmina lost her virginity!” she said. “Who would have thought you’d do it before me?”

“Not me,” I said with a laugh. “That’s for sure.”

“Wow. This is the ultimate love story. A friggin’ fairy tale.”

“It really does feel that way,” I said.

She let out a long, dreamy sigh, and we lay back on the dock, the sun warm on our faces, the moment already turning into a memory.





Chapter 7


Graduation arrived on a warm June night. Floodlights hummed over the football field and folding chairs fanned across the turf beneath a red-and-white stage.

Paul was our valedictorian, and I was salutatorian, my GPA just one-hundredth of a point shy of his. As I listened to his speech, I felt the sharp sting of second place. For a moment, I wondered if I’d made a mistake turning down Yale, but when Mick’s name was called, I got goose bumps, remembering the first time I heard his full name said aloud during roll call of math class.

I watched with pride as he strode across the stage, shook our principal’s hand, and collected his diploma to whistles and applause. There was a beat as he scanned the crowd.

Our eyes locked.

His face lit up.

My heart soared.