“What’s that?”

“Alcoholic,” I laugh. “And it was six thirty in the morning.”

“Ah!” Aidan grins. “He owed Sofie babysitting, and Mila was playing the guitar at four a.m.”

Note to self: when Aidan has a babysitting favor to pay, stay far, far away.

“Okay,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

“Close your eyes while in the middle of a forest God only knows where. That’s reassuring. Are you gonna chop me up and murder me?”

“Not tonight. But I can’t promise that in the future.”

Note to self: don’t enter a dark forest with Aidan Burke ever again.

“Jessica! Eyes!”

“My name is Jessie, you rotten bastard!”

“I know.” He grins. “But it’s still so fucking fun to call you Jessica.”

“I swear, one of these days—”

He cuts me off by kissing me, pulling me into him and wrapping his arm around me. I step back, startled by the force of his embrace, and he steadies me. “Oh, shut up,” he mutters. “Now close your goddamn eyes.”

“Ugh!” I slap my hand over my eyes, leaving them open.

He peels one finger back and raises his eyebrows.

I snap my eyes shut. “Killjoy.”

With my eyes closed and only his fingers linked through mine, I allow him to guide me through the rest of the forest. Hopefully. You know, because dismemberment is still a possibility.

Branches crunch under my feet, and we’ve walked for a good two minutes in silence.

He pulls me to him and then releases me quickly to stand by my side and cover my eyes.

We stop.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

“For our real first date.”

What the—holy shit.

His hands have barely dropped from my eyes when I freeze at the sight before me. His truck is parked with the bed facing the sea at the edge of the forest, the tailgate down, and much like they were on our fake first date, cushions and blankets laid out in the back. A bottle of wine and two glasses are sitting in the middle, alongside a takeout pizza.

“I had a little help with that,” he admits, gesturing to the pizza. “It was dropped here five minutes ago.”

My lips curve up when I look up at him, because, damn.

Now I know why he wanted me to wear Spanx.

“Damn,” I say quietly. “You’re one big surprise, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, grinning. “I wanted to give you a real first date where it wasn’t followed by cameras. Where you can wear your Spanx and run around barefoot. Although, you did pass on the Spanx.”

“Just as well.” My eyes find the pizza. “Well played, rocker boy. Well played.”

“Not done,” he says, amusement in his eyes. “But later. Not yet.”

“If it’s more sex . . .”

His laughter warms me. “No. Well,” he pauses, not laughing anymore. “Maybe no.”

I let him lead me to the truck bed and sit me on the edge of the tailgate. “You did good,” I say quietly, tucking my legs up and scooting back.

“There’s still time to dismember you, for what that’s worth.”

“Such an idiot.” I laugh, clambering back onto the cushions.

“Yeah,” Aidan agrees, moving back too. He opens the pizza box before looking at me. And his eyes—there’s something, something warmer and softer and full of more emotion than I’ve ever seen before. “But for what this is worth, I’m totally your idiot now.”

“It could be worse,” I reason, grabbing a piece of pizza. “I mean, I could be yours.”

He smirks. “It’s cute that you think you aren’t.”

“Maybe I’m in denial.”

“Baby, you’re in so much denial you could swim in it.”

“Or maybe I’m teasing.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“Hey! That’s my line!” I throw a piece of pepperoni at him. “But yes. I guess, for all intents and purposes, I could be called yours.”

He snatches the pizza out of my hand and throws it into the box.

“I was gonna eat that!”

He pounces on me, shoving the box out of the way and scattering a cushion or two. I scream as he tugs me toward him and pushes me back simultaneously. He’s right on top of me, his arms tensed and biceps bulging, completely powerful and dominating. I take a deep breath when I look into his eyes, focused completely on me.

“Could be called mine?” he asks, one eyebrow quirking. “Yeah, sure. Could be—if by ‘could be’ you mean abso-fucking-lutely mine. As in mine now, tomorrow, quite possibly always. As in the only fucking girl I’ve ever run after and begged not to leave. As in the one person who’s ever wormed her way so fucking far under my skin that the mere thought of her smile not being the one I see every day makes me feel sick, then, sure, baby. Sure, you could be mine.”

“I guess when you put it like that . . .”

“Jessie,” he growls.

“Am,” I say, cupping his cheek with my palm. “Am yours,” I tell him.

He kisses me.

“Remember when you said you wanted to break me—just to know you could?” I breathe, and he stills. “You did. But maybe not in the way you think.”

“Breaking someone ain’t ever good, sunshine.”

“Unless you break someone and put them back together the way they should be,” I argue, scooting out from under him and sitting up. “In the waterpark, when you made me cry, that’s when you broke me. I don’t cry. I watched Marley & Me and felt mildly sad. And when Dobby died in Harry Potter? Or Snape? Yeah . . . My heart is kinda black. But you made me cry.”

“Not feeling reassured here.”

I laugh. “You made me feel, Ads. You made me feel so much I couldn’t stand to be around you, but you made me be. You chased me and never gave up. You were so determined to make me listen.”

“And that broke you?”

“Maybe break is the wrong word.” I run my teeth over my bottom lip. “You . . . rearranged . . . me. You took all my ideas about you and you totally obliterated them, but while you did that, you slotted in all your quirks and the things that make you, you. Kinda like Tetris.”

“Tetris?” his lips tug up.

“Well, yeah.” I shrug. “You turned everythin’ around until it just . . . fit.”

Falling in love is exactly like Tetris. Each piece that drops to the bottom of the screen is a quirk or idiosyncrasy or imperfection of each person, color coded, shaped awkwardly. Sometimes they fit and sometimes they don’t. That’s the beauty of the game.

In the end, though, each piece is designed to fit perfectly. And when they fit—they fit.

And you know what? True love should have some holes where the pieces don’t quite fit, because sometimes, you need a damn good argument—because then you get to make your pieces fit with makeup sex.

Aidan gets up and jumps over the side of the truck, landing with a thud on the ground. His profile is illuminated by the sun hovering midway to the horizon, painting the sky with light yellow streaks that are destined to bathe the beach with vibrant orange in no more than a few minutes.

“This,” Aidan says quietly. “This is your last surprise.”

“What is it?”

He emerges around the end of the truck, something hidden behind his back.

“Show me!”

“Come here.”

I crawl down the bed until I’m right in front of him, and kneeling, I meet his eyes. “Please.”

Slowly, he pulls that something from behind his back.

And that something is the most stunning bunch of flowers I’ve ever seen.

And every one—Every. Single. Fucking. One—means something to me.

I take a deep breath as I stare at the physical versions of the flowers permanently etched onto my arm. “Whoa,” I breathe.

He holds up his finger. “Lily,” he points to it, “Purity. Because deep down, that’s exactly what you are.” He moves to the daisy. “Before our night together, you held so much innocence about the crap we put up with every day. The daisy is for that—the innocence I took away from you.” His finger brushes the sunflower. “Dedication, right? It’s the physical, floral embodiment of mine to you. To make what was once a lie the realest thing you’ll ever have.”