Page 16 of Calculated Risk
"Safe is boring. Sometimes you have to take risks."
"I don't take risks. I calculate them. And this—" He gestures between us. "—is too many unknown variables."
"Then stop calculating. Just feel."
"I don't know how to just feel. That's the problem."
The thought hits me with unexpectedly. For someone who prides himself on staying in control, on analyzing rather than feeling, moments like this throw me completely off balance. It’s uncomfortable. Disorienting. And somewhere deep down, maybe a little bit thrilling.
"Then learn. Because I'm tired of pretending I don't want this. Don't want you." I'm standing right in front of him now. "Tell me to leave. Tell me you don't want this and I'll walk away. We'll go back to being partners and nothing more."
"I can't tell you that."
"Why not?"
"Because I do want this. Have wanted it since freshman year when you told me to feel more and think less. You've been in my head for three years." His hands come up to cup my face. "But wanting something and acting on it are different things."
"Not that different."
"Lilah, if we do this…if we cross this line, everything changes."
"Maybe everything needs to change."
"Maybe." His thumb brushes my cheek. "Or maybe we crash and burn and ruin the one good thing I've managed to not fuck up this semester."
"Or maybe it's perfect. Maybe we're perfect. You won't know unless you take the risk."
"I hate risks."
"I know. But you're going to take this one anyway. Because you want to. Because I want you to. Because we've waited long enough."
"You're very sure of yourself."
"Someone has to be. You're too busy calculating probabilities."
"The probability of this working long-term is?—"
I kiss him before he can finish the calculation.
For a moment, he freezes, then he's kissing me back, pulling me closer, making a sound that's half groan, half surrender.
It's perfect. It's messy. It's everything I didn't know I needed, but God does it feel good. I lean in closing every gap between us, not wanting him to pull away from me.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"That was impulsive," Marcus says.
"That was perfect."
"We shouldn't have done that."
"We absolutely should have." I grin. "How do you feel?"
"Terrified. Exhilarated. Like I just jumped off a cliff."
"And?"
"And I want to do it again."
