“I know you do,” I assure him, letting out a hum of my own as his gentle fingers touch my face. Maybe it sounds cocky, but I don’t mean it that way. Oliver has hidden so much of himself for so much of his life, and pretended to be something he wasn’t.

I know that he isn’t pretending with me. This is who he is, and I know that he loves me. He shows me all the time.

“It’s rude to stare,” I tease, but the smirk on my face makes it clear that I really don’t mind. In fact, I let him look at me for a little longer, and then lean down to press my palms to the floor on either side of his face. Our eyes meet, then cross a bit as I get closer, then close when I kiss him, passionate and lingering.

“I love you, too,” I say against his mouth, nipping gently at his bottom lip.