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I jog toward the stands and the row of seats my friends sit in every game. The distance isn’t far, barely fifteen yards, but it feels like miles.
“Shawn,” Maggie says as I approach them, and I hear her desperation for me to do something.Anything. I’m going to find the cord to that camera and snap it in half.
Lacey looks up. She stares at me with red-rimmed eyes and tears on her face. I’ve never wanted to take away someone’s hurt before, but when I see the pain etched into her frown and the way her shoulders curl in, I want to burn the world to the fucking ground.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Lacey says. Her voice is thick with emotion, and my heart lurches further up my throat with the sound. “He won’t… he hasn’t… It’s fine. I’m okay.”
I turn my attention to the guy next to her and his hoodie and jeans. The stupid hat he’s wearing that covers his blonde hair. I could bench press him if I wanted to. Easily. The twerp can’t weigh more than a hundred fifty pounds soaking wet.
“What’s your deal?” I yell, and he scowls.
“None of your fucking business,” he snaps. “Your stadium fucking sucks.”
“It’s not nice to make a lady wait,” I say.
I jump onto the concrete blocks that separate the stands from the field. I pull Lacey toward me by her pigtails and settle my hand against the side of her neck. Her heart races under my palm, and I run my thumb down the column of her throat. Teardrops catch on her eyelashes, and her nose is as pink as a peony in spring.
Lacey grabs a fistful of my shirt and clutches the cotton like it’s her lifeline. Maybe it’s to keep me from falling headfirst to the turf. Maybe it’s to pull me closer. Maybe it’s to steady herself, because if she’s feeling anything like I am, it’s dangerously close to levitating high above the crowd.
I bring my mouth to hers, slow enough so she can stop me if she wants, and her breathing hitches.
When she doesn’t pull away, I smile big and wide. She gives me a shy grin in return and I press my lips against hers, kissing my best friend in front of seventy thousand people without a damn in the world, just as snowflakes start to fall from the sky.
SEVEN
LACEY
Shawn is warm,and he smells like sweat and grass.
He’s still smiling; I can feel the edges of his beam soft against the corners of my mouth. His hand moves from just under my jaw to my sternum and his fingers spread wide across the neckline of my sweater, like he’s desperately searching for bare skin to touch.
He makes a frustrated sound from the back of his throat when he comes up short and finds none, as if what we’re doing isn’t good enough and he wantsmore.
I think it’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.
My hands move from his chest to his hair, and his frustration burns out. It fades to delight, to splendor when he tips my chin up with the hook of his thumb and his tongue brushes against my lips. It’s questioning, hesitant. An ask, not a demand. An invitation if I want it, and I melt into him as his kisses turn hungrier, reminiscent of a man starved.
I might burst into a million pieces. I might turn to stardust and ascend to the clouds or somewhere beyond because every press of his fingers, every exhale and little huff of appreciation when I touch the stubble on his cheeks, every inch he pulls me closer drives my want, myneed, higher and higher.
Heat caresses the back of my neck. It licks up the line of my spine and across the soft skin of my stomach hidden by clothes like a wildfire. Shawn is slow, purposeful, and a laugh slips out of me when his teeth sink into my bottom lip in a way that should hurt, but feels nothing but magnificent. The sound reverberates down my body when he tugs me closer, his arm looping around my waist and his hand heavy against my hip.
I can’t think. I can’t speak. I’ve never had someone take their time when they kiss me, exploring, relishing,indulgingin me like I’m a prize they won and want to show off to the world.
He tastes like peppermint, as if he chugged a sugary seasonal drink before he waltzed over here and stole my breath away. Or marshmallows, maybe, my favorite topping in a warm mug of hot cocoa on a cold winter’s night.
It’s savory and sweet on the tip of my tongue, with a touch of spice. A hint of what else could be hiding behind the press of his mouth, wicked deliciousness that only comes out after dark when he has you alone in his room and spread out on his bed.
Is this how he kisses everyone?I think from the deep recesses of my brain. The small part of me that’s still functioning, that still has my feet on the ground.Or just me?
Shawn drops his forehead to mine, and I blink my eyes open. My vision is hazy, foggy and lust-filled, but I can see him as clear as day. Tiny snowflakes hang on the ends of his eyelashes. Another lands on his nose and lingers there before melting away.
His cheeks are flushed. It’s cold outside, but he’s as hot as the sun. His thumb traces up my jaw and across my mouth. He pulls at my bottom lip like he’s claiming it for himself. As if that kiss didn’t just tattoo his name across every inch of my body.
“Lacey girl,” he says, and his voice is low. Rough, and it sounds like my name has been pulled from the trenches of his chest. An exaltation he wants to bellow to anyone who will listen.
My head is slow to catch up with my body. My limbs are heavy and my brain is working a few steps behind. How could it not be after he sent me to outer space?
