All of Me

twenty seven • double take

He gets it. Oh my God. He gets it. I nod and grin and his smile reflects back at me a hundred times brighter. "Exactly," I say. "Most people just don't get it. Or I'm so scared they won't get it that I don't tell anyone because I'm paranoid they'll think differently of me."

"I don't think differently of you, I can promise you that." He pulls on his shorts and rummages through his bag for a stick of deodorant. "I get it. I had therapy for a while a few years ago, for depression. I never told anyone, even when things were good. Not even my brothers. So I totally get what you're saying."

Once he has dug out a clean t-shirt, he takes both of my hands and interlocks his fingers with mine and bends at the waist to kiss me. I move my hands to his waist to hold him in place, devouring him, morning breath and all. It's not that bad. I don't even care.

"Thank you." It's all I can think to say. It's pathetic, given everything he has just told me, but my brain has gone into overdrive and it's all I can say without tripping over myself. "We could skip brunch. We could just stay here."

He laughs and lets go of me, tutting. "Your mom invited us to brunch, so we're going for brunch. I want to get to know her. You had a one on one coffee with my mom!"

"She tricked me! I thought I was helping her run errands!" I unhook a cardigan from the back of my door when I see the gray clouds outside, and Liam laughs when he catches sight of the two of us in my mirror. He looks like he's about to head to the beach; I look like I'm a New Yorker in fall.

"That's Mom," he says, smoothing out my cardigan where it got hitched on my dress. "Anything I should know about yours? No questionnaires to prep for?"

"Nope. Mom's lowkey. She just wants to figure you out, make sure you're a decent guy. She can be a bit nervy – it's not that she doesn't like you, just that she doesn't know you."

"Ok. Thanks. And she works at a bookstore, right?"

"Mmhmm. Books are her life. Literally any and all books. She's no snob. If you can find a way to drop a title into conversation, mention what you're reading, then she'll love you."

"Noted." He mimes writing a checklist. "At some point over brunch, let Storie's mom know I'm reading the karma sutra."

"Sometimes I don't like you," I mutter, reaching into his open bag for the book I know he's been reading. I didn't peg him for the type at first but since we've been together, he's read a book or two each week. "Here." I push the book at him. "You can tell her you're reading Orphan Monster Spy."

Judging by the shelf in his room and the dog-eared books I've seen by his bed, he doesn't stick to one genre but he does seem to favour historical fiction. It's not my genre at all, but Navya loves it so she arms me with reviews and recommendations, and Liam leaves with a new book each time he comes into the store while I'm working.

"Does it ever get confusing?" he asks.

"What?"

"Being called Storie? Especially when your mom works at a bookshop, and your house might as well be made out of books," he says, glancing around my room at the teetering piles of books without homes. I only have one shelf, which holds the ones I can't wait to read, and the rest are stacked wherever there's space.

"Sometimes," I say. "My dad made loads of jokes. He thought it was hilarious. The puns were never-ending. He was king of the dad joke."

"He sounds like he was an awesome guy."

"He really was. He was the best." I let out a sigh. "Right. Let's go."

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