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I needed to keep my mouth shut.
So I drank.
“Are you still local?”
“To this place? No.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Yes, I’m local. That small town thing. Couldn’t escape. Couldn’t leave my…”
My jaw tightened.
Henry tightened his lips and nodded.
There was no way we could talk about my grandfather. Not without shattering the night and ending things on a really bad note.
This was kind of like a second chance for us.
We could have a drink, smile, laugh, then say our goodbyes.
“Henry,” I said. “This is…”
He moved toward me.
His left hand slipped around to the middle of my back and he pulled me against him.
“Tell me to stop right now, honey,” he whispered.
“Fuck,” was all I had to respond with.
Henry dropped his mouth down to mine.
The cliché romantic thing would have been to think Oh, I’ve waited for this for years!
No. That wasn’t the case at all.
I hated Henry, remember?
Even if his mouth felt so good against mine. Even if his lips did feel a little bit familiar. Even if that little move he made with the top of his tongue, flirting…
I reached between us and pushed him away.
The kiss instantly broke.
Henry nodded. “Okay, honey.”
My hand… it remained against his chest.
Glued.
My fingers slowly began to curl. I grabbed his shirt. Tight. A firm grip.
“Fuck,” I said again.
That’s when I pulled.
And as I pulled, I lunged toward him.
