“I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.”“Live. If you mix the letters up in the words like and love, you get live. You can use that word.”“I live you, Sky,” he says against my lips. “I live you so much.”

“It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.”

“Live. If you mix the letters up in the words like and love, you get live.”

“I live you, Sky," he says against my lips. "I live you so much.”

“I do need you, because I love you and you make me happy. I can live my life just fine on my own, but it will be so much better if I live it with you.”

“Say it.""Say what?""Tell me what you told me earlier.""I love you.""That's all I ever need to hear.""Those three words?""Always those three words.”