My hand moved to cup my heart. “That’s sweet.”
Andy scratched his nape. “Huh, she said Hi by the way.”
I blinked. Faster this time. “Your mom said Hi to me? You sure?”
“What can I say? She’s glad I’m not stuck here on my own.”
“Okay, wow. This is…wow. Your mom is something else.”
He smirked. “She’s the best.”
“You’re lucky to have her. Believe me, I’m speaking from experience.”
His smile was filled with compassion. “I’ll tell her. She’ll be happy.”
My head rested on his shoulder, and I squeezed his forearm. “Thank you for being here. With me.” Silence stretched between us. “See, I was right. I told you we’d be friends by the end of the night.”
“One thing I forgot to tell you earlier,” Andy said, his smile slipping away.
I braced myself for whatever escaped his lips and crushed this perfect moment.
“Abby, you’re a fucking incredible human being. Inside and outside. You are funny, smart, beautiful, caring, and hot as hell. Never let anyone else ever tell you otherwise. Stand your ground. Always.”
Fresh tears burned the back of my eyes at his words. I kissed his cheek, unable to tell him how much they meant to me and wishing he would understand.
His hand cradled my cheek. “You are magical.”
“Thanks. You’re pretty amazing too.” I debated whether to say what weighed heavy on my shoulders or not and decided to be honest with him. After everything we did tonight, it seemed like the right thing to do. “I’m not sure I wanna go back to the real world.” Warmth crept up my cheeks. “I kinda like this little bubble we’ve created for ourselves here.”
His throat bobbed. “Me too. If skinny-dipping is your definition of freedom, well, this is mine. Be yourself and the consequences be dammed. Do what feels right when it does feel right. Not sure if I make sense right now.”
I squeezed the hand still holding mine under the table. “It does. To me.”
Andy and I finished our meal, chatting about our musical preferences and all-time favorite bands.
Somehow it felt like we’d known each other for more than just a few hours and were making up for the lost time.