It was one of the warmer days at camp, the spring season melting into a radiant summer.
Fresh green leaves rustled gently in the breeze, a few scattered petals from late-blooming flowers dotting the path as Andrew dragged Astra towards the Big House. He had caught Astra pranking the Athena cabin again—this time with fake plastic spiders.
That had taken it too far.
“Don’t you know when to stop?” Andrew said, his stormy grey eyes intense as he glared down at the prankster.
"But you guys make it so easy." She easily replied back.
“That doesn’t mean do it,” he countered, not breaking his stride. “It means be civil and respect people.”
He kept walking, grip tight on her upper arm. His stormy grey eyes were hard as they fixated on the Big House.
"Some might say otherwise," she countered, her tone firm.
“Who — Hermes or Aphrodite?” Andrew said with a scoff. He rolled his eyes, but kept walking. They were almost at the Big House, the steps were in sight.
"I was mostly thinking of the Stolls, but I suppose they’ll do," She said. "You see, you acknowledge how easy you lot make it."
“The twins are as infuriating as you are,” he grumbled, though the edge of annoyance had worn off. “I don’t like the pranks they play either.”
He stopped, looking down at her through narrowed eyes. “You know why I hate them?”
"They prank people with no consideration for their feelings," she replied, a smirk already playing on her lips.
She stopped just behind him, the smirk now fully formed as the wind swept through her hair, shaking it loose in soft waves.
“That’s part of it,” Andrew agreed, his jaw clenching as he narrowed his eyes even further at her. “You really want to know why it drives me mad.”
He was standing over her now, almost a whole head taller. He looked tense, anger burning in his eyes as he met her gaze. “It’s because you won’t respect me.”
"I thought you were telling me why the stolls make you mad, not lovely old me," She clipped back, putting emphasis on 'stolls.'
"Though I'm not complaining, I find your opinion immensely interesting," She said, letting her face fall back into a smirk.
One of his dark blond eyebrows raised at that, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Oh, you do?”
He tilted his head to the side, expression shifting from cold anger to something akin to a challenge. He took a step forward, forcing her to take a step back.
“And why is that?”
Happily taking hint of the challenge in his eyes, she stepped forward as well.
"Well, yes, it always helps to know how to figure out how someone's mind thinks, no?" She shamelessly asked back, raising one of her eyebrows.
“And now you’re trying to get in my head,” he said with a scoff, taking another step forward. He wasn’t towering over her anymore, his head tipped down to look into her eyes.
He wasn’t angry anymore either, more amused than anything.
“Do you do that often? With other boys?”
"Nah, other boys aren't as...interesting." She answered, stepping closer to him.
"And besides, the other boys that I do talk to aren't worth the while or are too used to my 'quirks,'" She muttered, making air quotes at 'quirks'.
“So you’re saying I’m different than the other boys?”
He tried to keep the hint of amusement from his face, but the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile.
He took another step forward, forcing her to step back again. This time she backed into a tree. His smile grew.
“I suppose ‘interesting’ is better than ‘infuriatingly aggravating’,” he said, moving a few inches closer to her.
Her eyes flickered from the tree to him, her lips flipping into another smile. "You're 'infuriatingly aggravating,' please." she said.
"I'm sure they meant 'infuriatingly stubborn,' but you probably misunderstood with that ego falling over you, hm?" she drawled out.
The smile faded from his face, the teasing arrogance in his expression giving way to a sharp, unmistakable scowl.
He reached up and placed a hand on the tree, right next to her head. He leaned down, getting as close to her as he could. “Don’t you dare question my ego,” he said, voice dropping low. His stormy grey eyes darkened as they met hers, burning with anger.
He was so close to her that their noses were only about an inch apart.
She noticed his anger flare up again. Knowing the risk, she dipped her head back in anyway. "Of course not, I know better than that," she replied, her voice soft but laced with mockery.
She was playing with fire—perhaps this was what Draco meant when he said he couldn’t get enough of Potter, describing him as utterly intoxicating.
He gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes at her. She knew what she was doing, how she was riling him up.
And it was working. Something about her refusal to back down or cower, it ignited a fire in him.
“You know better, yet you still do it,” he stated, leaning down to get even closer. “Why is that?”
He had her up against a tree. He had the advantage right now, and he knew it. His other hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her further against the tree.
Her light blue eyes sparkled in anticipation. "For the fun of it," she replied once more simply.
His jaw clenched further, something flashing in his eyes that she couldn’t quite identify.
It wasn’t anger, or amusement, or annoyance.
She had gotten under his skin, and he hated her for it — yet that fire was burning in him. She was challenging him.
“You enjoy antagonizing me, then?” He said, his voice lower than before.
"In simple terms... yes," She exhaled, her eyes tracing the lines of his face before settling on his eyes.
"There’s something intoxicating about it—watching you unravel, come undone, or maybe even lose control," she added with a smug smirk. Her hand moved slowly, lifting to rest lightly on the one draped over her shoulder.
He felt his skin burn wherever she laid a finger. A fire was building in his entire being now. It wasn’t anger, or annoyance. It was something he didn’t want to admit.
He hated her, yet he couldn’t deny the effect she had on him. She wasn’t afraid of him, she wasn’t bothered — no, she was amused by his attempts to intimidate her.
“You think you can get me to lose control?” He stated, gripping her shoulder more forcefully.
"What do you think I'm doing here?" She questioned, squeezing his hand.
His eyes darkened even further, his free hand clenching into a tight fist by his side. She was getting to him, and they both knew it.
He was still leaned over her, his chest nearly pressed against hers. He took a steadying breath, eyes flickering across her face for a moment.
His jaw was still tensed to the point of pain. He was struggling to keep his cool.
“Get to the point, then,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here?”
"More or less... making you lose your cool." She chuckled back, raising her free hand to wrap a finger around one of his curls.
The anger in his eyes flared again as she played with a strand of his hair. She was riling him up again, her actions sending a shockwave through his body.
He clenched his jaw again, forcing himself to maintain composure. He had the upper hand here, yet she was still getting to him.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He said, more a statement than a question. He still hadn’t let go of her shoulder.
"With skills like that, you might as well be Sherlock Holmes," she murmured, her fingers drifting from his hair to trace along his jaw.
"But I do have a question for you," she continued, her touch softening as she massaged the edge of his jaw, coaxing it to relax. "Why are you letting me get under your skin?" she whispered, her voice laced with quiet challenge.
Every touch lit his nerve endings on fire. He felt like he was being consumed by flames as her light caressing sent tremors through his body.
His knuckles stung from how tightly he was clenching his fist. Part of him wanted to push her further against the tree, but the other part of him forced him to hold himself back.
“Like you said,” he gritted out, “You’re aggravating. You’re infuriating. You push my buttons and I can only take so much.”
She laughed, a smile blossoming across her features. "So do tell, how much can you take?" she questioned.
She lightly lifted her hand from his jaw, letting a silent 'notice-me-not' spell form around them.
Carefully she brought her hand to his one free hand, loosening it.
He felt her fingers brush against his closed fist, coaxing it open. Part of him wanted to fight her, to snatch his hand back and keep clenching it in anger.
He let his fingers uncurl from the painful fist, though he didn’t relax his grip on her shoulder.
“You’d like to know how much I can take, wouldn’t you?” He muttered, his voice still cold as he met her gaze. “You want to see how far you can push me?”
"Simply," she muttered, "why? Do you even know how much you can take?"
Her hand slipped from his, pressing palm-first against the rough bark of the tree, grounding her stance as her gaze held steady.
It was a simple question, yet it was sending his mind racing. He didn’t have a good answer. He couldn’t give her a satisfactory response. Because he didn’t actually know how much he could take.
“No, I don’t,” he admitted quietly, a mixture of anger and a hint of frustration in his tone. “You’re getting to me, and I don’t know how much more I’m going to take,” he added, his knuckles gripping her shoulder tighter.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a sharp hiss, her expression softening into a calculated smile. Her gaze shifted to a blossom hanging delicately from the tree behind him. "Good thing I can take whatever you throw at me," I murmured lightly, the hint of a challenge threading my voice.
The soft hiss she let out sent a pang of guilt stabbing through him, but he didn’t loosen his grip.
Her hand lifted from where it pressed against the rough bark, reaching for the blossom. The motion pushed her forward, brushing against him as her back eased away from the tree.
She leaned forward for the blossom, her movements brushing against him despite already being pressed against the tree. He seized the moment, letting his other hand slip from her shoulder to snatch her wrist as she reached forward.
With a swift motion, he pulled her arms back and shifted their positions, keeping her against the tree but adjusting his stance. Now, he pressed closer, his hand slamming itself firmly against the trunk beside her.
"Opmh," she exhaled as she got pressed against the tree once more. "Quick on your feet, aren’t we?" she drawled, her eyebrow arching in mock amusement.
She unfolded her clenched fist, revealing the pink cherry blossom nestled within. Her eyes flicked between the flower and his face, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
"Hey, Sunshine, mind letting go of my hands so I can tuck this in my hair?" she asked, her tone light but daring.
He chuckled at the nickname, but his eyes darkened again.
Sunshine. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
He glanced down at the blossom for a moment before his gaze flickered back to her face.
“Who are you calling ‘sunshine’,” he said, voice low and dark as he let his gaze roam across her face. He didn’t release her as his eyes drifted to the blossom again.
She rolled her eyes. "Tom Holland, who else?" She sarcastically replied.
He gritted his teeth together, letting a small huff escape his nose.
She was mocking him.
He gripped her wrists a little tighter than necessary, his expression hardening further. “I’m not sunshine,” he said again, his voice low and firm.
He still didn’t release her hands.
"Oh?" She asked, her tone light with curiosity. "If you’re not sunshine, then what are you?"
She arched an eyebrow at him, shifting her wrists subtly against his unyielding grip.
He held on tighter as she tried to free her wrists. The urge to let her go was there, but he couldn’t give her that satisfaction.
He took another step closer to her, his body nearly pressed against hers. His other hand slammed against the tree next to her head.
“I’m not sunshine,” he repeated again, meeting her gaze with a hard stare. “And I’m not a good person, especially to people who piss me off.”
"And I've pissed you off now, have I?" She shoot back, her gaze just as unrelenting.
She turned her eyes from his face to the hand next to her, wondering weather it was bruised in some fashion.
His knuckles were red and slightly bruised, the skin raw from how tightly he’d been clenching his fist. He followed her gaze to his hand, but didn’t loosen his grip.
He chuckled softly, his gaze returning to her face.
He tilted his head, leaning down to speak directly into her ear.
“Yes, you have,” he whispered, voice still dark and low, “You piss me off, no, irritate me to no end.”
"Oops, woe is me," She muttered. She twisted her head to get a better look at his hand. Letting a string of curses flow through her mouth at what she saw.
"Episkey," She muttered once more, letting her breath cool over his raw hand as the swelling and bruises sufficed against the spell.
He gritted his teeth together as he felt the swelling and bruising start to lessen.
He didn’t loosen his grip, keeping a tight hold of her wrists like handcuffs.
“And now you’re trying to be nice,” he said, raising an eyebrow slightly as he met her gaze again. “You’re confusing, you know that?” He added, voice still low and dark.
She turned her face back toward his. "Of course, it’s what I live to do," I said with a casual shrug before adding, "You know?"
"Giving your brain a little rest," She muttered, her gaze drifting to meet his stormy grey eyes. A smirk tugged at her lips. "And don’t you ever make the mistake of putting 'me,' 'nice,' and 'you' in the same sentence again. I just don’t want you messing up my hair, that’s all."
He laughed at her words, but the gesture was devoid of humour.
“Why not? You make stupid decisions all the time,” he said, tightening his grip as he spoke, “So why not throw ‘nice’ in there too?”
He leaned down closer again, the proximity only serving to make the fire inside him burn brighter. “And if I wanted to ruin your hair?” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Well, I can't let you get what you want now, can I?" She whispered back, watching how her breath washed over his lips.
A muscle in his jaw tensed and he gritted his teeth as her warm breath washed over his lips.
He had her pinned against the tree, wrists still restrained in his grip. He knew that if he let her go, it would be an admission of her victory.
He wasn’t going to let her win, yet being this close to her was making his resolve and determination to win waver and crack.
Noticing the tension rise back in his jaw, she questioned, "So, how do I lose?"
“What?” He said, his gaze narrowing as he met her eyes.
He didn’t know exactly what she meant by that, though part of him had a good idea.
“You mean how would you lose this little game you’re playing?” He added, voice still dark and low as he spoke.
"See? Now you're getting it," She breathed out, "Our own Sherlock Holmes in the making."
He chuckled wryly again, leaning in even closer to speak directly in her ear.
“You keep going this route, and you’re gonna piss me off even more,” he said, his grip on her wrists still painfully firm.
“Are you trying to get me to snap?” He added after a short pause, pulling back just enough to see her face again, his expression still hard and dark.
"Well, isn’t that how I win?" she said, her tone making it clear it was more a statement than a question.
His jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyes at her. This was exactly what she wanted.
“You want me to lose my cool,” he said, leaning closer so his chest was nearly flush with hers. His grip on her wrists tightened further, though he still didn’t let up, “Is that it? You think you can get me to snap?”
"Haven't I already?" She actually questioned this time.
Dam her for being right.
He could feel heat rushing to his face as his anger rose and his pride started to bruise at her question.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” he said, his tone as low and firm as before. He didn’t know what “losing” meant in this scenario, other than his own failure at not letting her get to him.
She let her eyes sweep over his form. "Anyone ever tell you," she began, her voice laced with mockery, "that you’re a stubborn arsehole?" Her gaze shifted from his body to his face, locking onto his eyes. "A hot arsehole," she added with a smirk, "but just as stubborn."
He gritted his teeth together again, his eyes narrowing even further.
“You’re pushing it,” he warned her as he moved impossibly closer until there was barely any room between them.
“I’m stubborn?” He said, his voice low again, “You’re just as stubborn as I am.”
"Perhaps," she admitted. Finally freeing her wrists from his hand, quickly putting the blossom in his hair.
He let out a huff of annoyance as she freed her wrists from his grip, his annoyance quickly turning to shock as she swiftly placed the blossom in his hair.
“Wha-” he started to say, but his words died in his throat when she spoke again.
"But that’s why you love me," she whispered, her voice soft yet teasing.
Love. That one word threw him off balance, causing the anger and annoyance to fade into confusion and surprise.
"You alright?" She asked, a smirk playing on her lips as a faint blush crept across her cheeks.
He was still reeling from her words, the question causing him to come back to reality.
"Finally caught of guard? Told something you didn’t already know?" Her tone softened, teasing yet gentle.
“Yeah,” he muttered, his cheeks turning a slight pink.
She raised her hands again, brushing near the blossom before settling it more securely in his hair. As she whispered, "Adhaero," the spell took hold, ensuring the blossom stayed perfectly in place.
He glanced up to the blossom as she whispered the spell, noticing how it was now stuck in his hair.
“Seriously?” He said, looking back at her again, “You’re really putting a flower in my hair?”
He was getting off the topic she clearly wanted him on, but he wasn’t mentally prepared for it yet.
"Well, I was planning on putting in my own hair but decided against it because pink and black was so last year." She replied leaning aginast the tree.
He couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or teasing him.
He desperately wanted her to not be teasing, he wanted her to mean it, but he didn’t know.
He didn’t know because he wasn’t supposed to like her.
He wasn’t supposed to feel anything more than annoyance and irritation for her.
“You really think it looks good?” He mumbled as he averted his gaze from her.
She let out a soft chuckle, the sound light and warm, as my gaze softened at the faint blush coloring his face.
He immediately cursed himself for blushing, knowing his face was turning a slightly darker shade.
He averted his gaze again, looking anywhere except directly at her. He could practically hear the smirk on her face.
“Stop laughing,” he muttered, the redness spreading from his face to his ears now.
"Hm?" She murmured, her hands finding their way to the back of his neck, her fingers resting lightly against his skin.
He let her touch his face, his cheeks burning even more once her fingers touched his skin. He felt a shiver go down his spine as her fingers moved across his skin, and a different sensation in his stomach.
He still couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze, his heart beating loudly in his chest as she spoke again.
"Also, to answer your earlier question," She whispered, her voice soft and deliberate, "I believe it looks lovely. Whoever did it clearly has impeccable taste...." her words lingered.
He could practically feel the hesitance in her voice.
“You gonna finish that sentence, or just leave it hanging?” He said, though it was meant to be a joke, his voice came out softer than intended.
"Hm, looks like you were right after all," she muttered, letting her hands weave through the ends of his hair..
The shiver returned as her fingers ran through his hair, causing him to instinctively press closer to her. His hands found their way to her waist and he pulled her closer to him.
“Right about what?” He asked, the words soft as a sigh as he met her gaze again.
"Sunshine, it doesn't suit you," she finalized.
A small scoff escaped him at the words, followed quickly by him rolling his eyes to the sky.
“You know what I meant,” he said, looking at her again.
He didn’t let go of her waist, still holding her against him.
"No, no, I know what you mean; that's exactly why it doesn't suit you."
He let out a soft hmph at her response, but didn’t protest.
She responded. "I'm thinking," she muttered, eyes gazing into his, "Starling."
He held her gaze as she looked at him intently, feeling his breath catch as she spoke.
“Starling?” He repeated as the word sunk in, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch slightly.
“Like the bird?” He added, the beginning of a small smile on his face.
She blinked at him for a while. "There's a bird called Starling?" she questioned.
He chuckled softly at her response, the smile on his face growing wider.
“Of course there’s a bird called a starling,” he said, a smirk on his face now, “You seriously didn’t know that? The little black bird?”
"No," she drawled, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you know that? Wait, no—stop! Don’t answer that!" She waved a hand dramatically, cutting him off. "You’ll go into this long-winded explanation, and I’ll completely forget my absolutely fantastic reasoning for the name," she concluded, her rant ending in an exaggerated pout.
He let out a bark of laughter at her expression and words, the smile on his face completely wiping away the expression that had been there only moments ago.
“What?” He said as he tried to contain his laughter, “You think I’m going to go into some hour long rant about the history of a bird?” He said, still chuckling slightly.
"Nah, it’s more about how you learned the bird’s history. I was there when you explained Daedalus to Percy." Her gaze sharpened as she leaned in closer. "Now, keep that pretty mouth shut while I tell you why I chose the name that, apparently, belongs to a bird," she finished, locking her eyes directly with his, daring him to interrupt.
He laughed again, a small pink hue spreading across his cheeks at her description.
“Did you just call my mouth ‘pretty’?” He said, ignoring her comment on his knowledge of birds.
He still hadn’t let go of her waist and he still kept her pressed against him, now that her wrists were free to move, he couldn’t risk losing this closeness.
"Not the point," she muttered, freeing one of her hands from his hair and letting it glide across the back of his shoulders.
Her hands in his hair and wrapped around his shoulders felt like fire against his skin. He fought to remain still as she touched him again.
He let out a low chuckle. “Not the point, huh?” He repeated.
“You just told me I have a pretty mouth and now it’s ‘not the point’?” he added, a ghost of a smile still on his face.
"If I remember correctly, Starling, I told you to keep that pretty mouth shut." She muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.
He felt her fingers drag across his shoulders as she spoke, his heart beating loudly in his chest.
“I don’t recall that,” he said, a small smirk on his face.
She just gazed up at him humorlessly. Raising one of her eyebrows as if to say, may I continue?
He met her gaze, his smile widening as she raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed.
He nodded slightly, still smiling. “Continue,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “I promise I won’t interrupt you again.”
"Hmph," she huffed indignantly. "If you must know, Starling feels like it’s connected to the stars—something luminous, distant, and beautiful. And besides," she added with a tilt of her head, "I couldn’t just let you stray too far from Sunshine, could I? The -ing at the end? It’s kind of sweet, like darling."
He felt his heart skip a beat as she explained her reasoning, her words making his heart pound in his chest for a second, and it took a few seconds for him to process her words.
She was really comparing him to a star? A distant and beautiful one?
Her gaze remained steady, locking firmly with his as if daring him to challenge her reasoning.
He tried to form a reply, but he was unable to get his tongue and mind to cooperate. She still hadn’t broken eye contact with him and he felt frozen.
She pursed her lips, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "I’m starting to have regrets," she muttered, her voice low with anxiety as she began to pull her hands away.
He felt a slight panic as she started to pull her hands away from him, and he instinctively tightened his grip around her waist.
He held on tighter, not wanting to let her go anytime soon. He let out a scoff, though it came out weaker than intended.
“Don’t you dare,” he muttered in response to her comment, “No regrets, not allowed.”
She let out a weak laugh. "Oh? And you care why?" she asked aloud, her hands shifting to rest lightly on his shoulders.
“Do you really need to ask that?” He said, his voice low and soft now. “After all that?”
She swallowed hard, her breath catching as she spoke softly. "Please?"
He couldn’t respond at first, taken off guard by her response.
“Because I…” he muttered, the words dying on his tongue.
"Andrew… Starling… please?" she whispered, her voice trembling as her eyes glistened.
He gritted his teeth as he let out a soft exhale, his heart feeling like it was in his throat.
“Because I care about you,” he whispered as he said it at last, his voice as low as he could manage.
"But you don't love me?" she managed, tears already flowing out from her eyes.
The tears caught him completely off guard, he immediately went rigid.
“No! I-I didn’t say that,” he said quickly, the words falling out of his mouth as he tried to recover, “I never said that!”
She withdrew her hands abruptly, her movements tense. "It’s fine," she said, her voice shaking as she looked away. "I’m fine.
He let her withdraw her hands, suddenly feeling cold where they used to be. He stared at her, frozen in his spot as he watched her try to pull herself together, but not before she let out a shaky sigh that made it obvious she was trying not to cry.
He stayed motionless for a few moments, before reaching out and gently taking her wrist again.
“No, no,” he mumbled as he held her wrist, “I didn’t mean that. I never said I didn’t…”
She drew in a shaky breath, releasing it unevenly as the pang in her chest tightened, closing her throat. Her gaze slowly lifted from the ground, hesitantly meeting his. With trembling fingers, she brushed away her tears, her touch tender yet hurried.
He felt sick as he watched the tears fall down her cheeks. He knew he had to fix this, to make it right, but he wasn’t sure what to say now that he’d already said so much.
"Then what?" she asked, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions, hoarse and unfamiliar even to herself.
His heart broke at the cracking of her voice, and the sound felt like a punch to the gut.
He still held her wrist, now gently grabbing her hand as well, intertwining their fingers.
“Astra,” he murmured, his mind swimming as he searched for the right word to say, “I…”
"...am an oblivious idiot?" she said, her voice laced with wry humor as she turned her gaze away, unwilling to meet his. Honestly, she wasn’t sure whether she was talking about him or herself.
He swallowed hard before speaking, his tone still soft and hushed.
“I know,” he whispered.
He stepped closer to her, letting go of her hand and gently taking her chin in his hand, turning her head towards his so that they could see each other again.
"Really?" she murmured, her voice soft as her eyes fell shut.
He gently placed his other hand on her waist, pulling her closer to him, his heart pounding as she shut her eyes.
He kept his voice quiet, not wanting to break the moment.
“Really,” he said, “I am definitely the idiot here. I never meant to make you think I didn’t care about you. I care about you, a lot, I just—“
"I don't care about that, you idiot!" She snapped, her voice rising as her eyes flew open, fiery and unwavering. "I'm asking you whether you love me!" Her chest heaved, the words tumbling out.
"I know you care—I wouldn't be here if you didn't care!" She continued, her tone breaking slightly, a raw edge slipping through.
"Andrew Chase," she said, her voice quieter now but no less intense, "I'm asking you if you care enough to love me!" Her gaze locked onto his, searching desperately for an answer.
He froze up again, all the words dying on his tongue as he heard her question.
He swallowed, hard, as he met her gaze, his heart thudding so loudly it filled his ears, drowning out any sound.
Finally, after a few seconds, he was able to respond.
“Yes,” he managed to croak out, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Yes?" she choked out, her voice trembling as she struggled to steady her breath. "Yes what?" she pressed.
He felt his heart continue to race as he responded, the look on her face tearing him apart.
“Yes, I love you,” he repeated, his tone barely more than a whisper, “I love you.”
She threaded her fingers back through his hair, her touch gentle. "Good," she murmured, her voice soft but still a little hoarse, "because I love you too."