I stop short, realizing I’ve been talking too much. It’s like all the things I’ve been wrestling with, and the arguments I’ve been secretly having with myself about my ingrained shame around romance, come pouring out at once. But I’m probably just preaching to the choir. I already know Cosmos reads spicy romance novels.
“Sorry for the diatribe. I’m sure you don’t want to listen to me rant about a poorly named subgenre.” I shove a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth.
Cosmos stops and turns toward me. “Language matters, Hazel.” There’s no judgement, just acknowledgement. And a smirk. “You’re damn sexy when you rant.”
Then, without warning, he leans forward and steals the ice cream off my spoon.
“Hey!” There’s no heat in my reprimand. I’m too mesmerized by his tongue licking the chocolate from the corner of his lips.
“Here.” He fills his spoon with mint chip and holds it out for me. I lean in, but he swipes the spoon away at the last second, shoves the bite in his own mouth, and immediately claims my lips with his. This kiss is minty and cold, playful and light. It warms all of me.
“What else do you read?” I ask when he breaks the kiss.
“Besides romances and poetry? A bit of everything, I guess. Reading is how I calm down. It’s how I distance myself from the intensity of working in a hospital.”
That makes sense. Reading’s always been my escape too. “Okay, last ten books you read, ready? Go.”
He lists off three murder mysteries, two romance novels, three popular fiction books that I recognize from the New York Times bestseller list, a sciencefiction novel I read in college, and a historical novel about World War Two.
“How about you?” he asks.
It’s one thing to admit I read romance novels. It’s another to admit I’ve read them exclusively lately. And most of the ones I read this week would qualify as erotica more than romance. That’s a whole other conversation for another time.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I say, trying to evade his question. “You still have to tell me which was your favorite.”
He picks one of the murder mysteries and by the time he finishes explaining why, we’re back at his car.
“Do you want to go get a drink?” he asks. “Or we could?—”
“I should probably get back.” I reach for the car door, but he beats me to it, holding it open while I climb in. I sit down, then shift around in my seat and pull at the hem of my dress.
Cosmos doesn’t argue or try to persuade me to go to his place first. I’m disappointed, but also grateful. He understands why I want to go home early, and he doesn’t make me feel bad about it.
The drive back to Mom’s is comfortable. We talk about music and movies, the casual types of things you ask when getting to know someone. This kind of small talk is usually awkward for me, but with Cosmos it feels different. Easier, somehow.
We park in front of Mom’s place at exactly ten fifteen. Cosmos walks me to the front door, and westand there awkwardly, neither truly ready for the night to be over.
“Sorry to end things so early,” I whisper. “I had a great time.”
Cosmos steps closer, his hand rubbing up my arm to my shoulder. “Stop apologizing, Hazel.”
I love the way he says my name. Like a breath. Like longing. We’re standing so close our chests graze against each other with every inhale. I can smell the peppermint on his breath from the hard candy we had in the car. I want him to kiss me, but he’s just looking, like he’s trying to memorize each detail of my face.
His hand moves down to my waist, and his fingers curl, fisting the fabric of my dress. “We should say goodnight. I know you don’t want to leave your mom alone for long.”
He gives me a quick, chaste kiss, unclenches his fist, and steps away.
“Oh, right.” I’m not sure how I expected the night to end, but it definitely wasn’t with a peck on the lips and a hasty goodbye. Um, no.
I grasp the hem of his t-shirt and pull him back to me, lifting on my toes to press my lips fully to his.
His groan sounds almost like my name and feels like a dam bursting open. He grabs my thigh and wraps it around his hip, the same way he did when we were dancing. Both feet leave the ground as he lifts me back into the door. Our mouths lock together. His tongue swipes against mine, then twirls, winding me up. Coiling every muscle in my body.
His hand moves along my thigh, under my dress,until he’s squeezing my ass, as he kisses me senseless. “I want to take you home with me, Hazel.” He kisses along my neck and bites the collar of my dress. “Fuck, I want to take you home so bad.”
I want that too. So much that every cell in my body feels like it’s vibrating, shaking. My mind is only half working. “Go around back. My bedroom is the window with the white curtains. I left it open before we left.”
He squeezes my backside a little harder, lifting me half an inch higher so we’re eye level. “You want me to sneak in your bedroom window?”
