“Always.”
“Do you remember the D.C. ambassador program? From our freshman year.”
“Of course. You got second place, right? But you didn’t go…” I say, realization dawning on me.
“I couldn’t afford it without the scholarship. Which you—”
“I won. Right.” If I could crawl into a cave and hide for eternity, I would. I have never felt so much shame in my life. I could have afforded that trip without the scholarship. But my guilt is short-lived because the look on my dad’s face when I told him I won pops into my mind. Winning that scholarship won me the respect of my dad. It was right on the heels of me announcing I wouldn’t be playing soccer anymore, and I swear I thought he’d never talk to me again. But then I won the ambassador program and he was so proud.
But the pride was short-lived because I had to miss one of my last soccer games for the trip, and he wasn’t happy about that.
Jessie props herself up on an elbow, laying her hand on my chest, directly over my heart. I cover her hand with my own.
“I resented you for a long time for that. But I realized not too long ago what a waste of energy that was. It’s taken getting to know you to see that you didn’t do it on purpose. You didn’t know my situation, and even if you did I wouldn’t have wanted you to sacrifice something you deserved to win just for me. Just because of my financial situation. I don’t want your pity.”
“No pity, I promise.”
“I…” She pauses for a long time. Long enough that I’m not sure she’ll finish the thought. As best I can in the dark light, I watch a whole scene of emotions break out over her face. There’s something she wants to say, and she’s deciding if she’s going to say it or not. “I like you, Mac. I don’t care how much money you have. And I don’t want you to care either.”
“I don’t. You could have a penny to your name or be rich enough to send a dick-shaped rocket to the moon and I’d still like you.”
A burst of laughter breaks out of Jessie. It echoes into the night, and when the sound bounces back to us I absorb it right into my bones. What I wouldn’t give to swim in that sound, to hear it every day and let it be the soundtrack to my life. Her laugh moves her entire body, and she rests her forehead against my chest, convulsing with laughs still. I smile, fully satisfied. If I didn’t make anyone but Jessie laugh for the rest of my life, I would still be fully satisfied.
She picks her head back up, her eyes meeting mine, and the music swells over the speakers. The air shifts, and I can’t help it—my eyes drift to her lips.
She likes me. She said it, and she knows I like her too. My heart feels three sizes too big for my chest and I’m aching to kiss her, to feel the thing we felt at that Halloween party.
She leans in, and I shove away the guilt of what I’m keeping from her. I’m not going to let that ruin this moment for me.
I lift my head just enough to narrow the space between us. She pauses, her lips hovering inches from mine. I can smell the hot chocolate on her breath.
I close the gap between us and take what I want. I press my lips to hers, and the touch is so light, so delicate, it’s almost like I’m imagining it. But I’m not just hungry for her—I’m starving. I cup the back of her head and give her more of me. She accepts it, hungry for this too. Her fingers clutch at my chest as our tongues meet.
It’s in this exact moment I realize my memory is a thief, having stolen from me all the details of kissing this woman. The softness of her lips, the way she moves her tongue against mine, her taste, the subtle movements of her body. All of it is familiar and fresh. Some of it lost to time, but here it is again. Like a coin buried in the sand, every sensation, every second of this a treasure that somehow got buried.
It is the most natural thing in the world to kiss Jessie Matthews, and if I could spend every single day doing this I’d never get sick of it. She melts into me, deepening our kiss, and I tighten one arm around her. I want her as close as possible, and that is not nearly close enough.
Jessie pulls away, but not far. Her nose brushes my cheek and I feel her smiling against my lips.
“Would you make fun of me if I told you I’ve always wanted to make out with someone while listening to Black Phantom?” she whispers, brushing her lips over mine.
“Never. Because me too,” I say and sweep the back of my finger down her cheek. Her skin is like silk, and I chase the graze of my finger with a kiss.
She closes her eyes, making a humming noise. I want more of those noises. I want more of her, but I’m not going to push her or try to make tonight into something it’s not.
“You know what they say,” I murmur against her lips. “Teamwork makes the dream work.”
Jessie bursts into a laugh, resting her forehead on my chest. It makes me want to kiss her again, so I hook my finger under her chin and tilt her face to mine. It’s bright with joy, and when I kiss her I swear I can taste it.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
MAC
I never, ever get nervous. But standing in front of the theater waiting for Jessie to show up has me pacing and a little sweaty. I’m not nervous to see her—we’ve spent nearly every day together this week since Thanksgiving break. So I will my nerves into excitement. It’s how I always feel seeing a play. I was only able to see one or two shows over the past two years because of my soccer schedule, but every time I did I felt like this. It’s how I felt before soccer games—a sense of rightness, but also the thrill of doing something I like. Eventually that feeling faded for soccer, but I recognize it here, waiting on Jessie. I check my watch. The show starts in ten minutes, and she was supposed to be here five minutes ago.
I peer into the lobby, which is bustling with people, and stuff my hands into my pockets, rocking back and forth. When I turn back around, Jessie is approaching, her hair slightly windblown, her cheeks pink from the cold air.
“Ready?” she asks, a big smile on her face.
