“Hmm?” I don’t trust my voice.
“Do you ever think about it?”
My lungs squeeze. All breathing comes to a halt. I’m not sure if her mind is where mine is.
A silent beat passes.
“The kiss,” she clarifies.
All the time.“Yes,” I say hesitantly. I’m not sure where she’s going with this.
“Me, too,” she admits.
Silence.
It stretches between us, thick like dense fog. I don’t know where to go from here. I feel like anything I could say would be wrong.
I want to kiss you again.
I think about kissing you all the time.
I wonder what would’ve happened had we not been interrupted.
So.
Many.
Thoughts.
Her fingers begin tiptoeing across my torso, as if they’re dancing to a silent song. Is it intentional? Is she trying to kill me?
A pattern forms. Definitely intentional.
Her body shakes, and for a second, I think she’s crying, but I quickly realize she’s snickering.
“What are you doing?”
She snorts, laughing harder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice is full of mock confusion.
I bark a laugh. “Are you sure you don’t still have a fever?”
“I was feeling fidgety and didn’t know what to do with my hands.” She’s giggling. That same awful giggle I heard that first night. I liked it then, but now I’m certain I love it.
She starts the dance again, but I quickly capture her hand in mine.
“Boo,” she protests. “You’re no fun.”
She can’t see my face. She can’t see that I’m always up for a challenge. “That’s it.” I trap her so she can’t move and tickle her under her ribs.
She squeals so loud it echoes. “Ethan,” she screams.
Fuck, do I wish my name was being screamed like that for an entirely different reason.
She squirms, trying to escape, but I’m relentless.
Her shirt lifts.
My hands slip.
