I stared at Brady, heart pounding, knowing we’d reached the point of no return. I was standing on the precipice of something that I couldn’t come back from, and as soon as it was out in the open, that would be it.
“I ...” I hesitated. “I don’t know, okay.”
It was one of the very few times Brady had ever looked serious. His brows were lowered pensively, and he watched me like he was trying to solve a riddle. I noticed a key ring in his hand, his thumb fidgeting busily over the smooth leather strap and the metal ring.
When he noticed my attention stray, Brady shoved the key ring in his pocket. Was that why he always had his hand inside the pocket of his puffy vest? So he could distract himself and fidget with his key chain?
Back in school, Brady had always been a hyperactive kid. He used to get in trouble for being out of his seat or not paying attention. As we got older, he had teachers who helped him manage his restless energy better, to channel it into learning. As a child, he’d played every sport before finally settling on soccer in high school.
In second grade, probably around the time he got his ADHD diagnosis, Ms. Ogle sat Brady next to me in an effort to keep him on task. He’d been disruptive in her class, attention seeking. I could recall her berating him and calling him lazy infront of everyone. Something about it rankled. Even back then, when we were chasing each other at recess and daring each other to eat worms on the playground.
The teacher’s shitty plan backfired since Brady and I fought so much. Our bickering led to her moving Brady again. This time, Jase Wilcox, a quiet kid who hardly ever spoke in class, achieved what I couldn’t manage. He kept Brady in his seat and on task, helping him with his work and drawing pictures of anything and everything Brady asked for.
In the end, even though Mrs. Ogle obviously had no idea how to accommodate a kid with ADHD, she’d managed to do something right by sitting them next to one another. She’d solidified Brady and Jase’s friendship, one they’d kept and nurtured to this day.
Brady was fun loving, charming, and well-liked—always had been. No one picked on him or teased him for his ADHD, at least not that I remembered. If anything, he’d been the lovable class clown, generally charming his teachers and volunteering for everything under the sun. His ADHD had just been a part of who he was, not something that defined him. Plus, he’d never been shy about his diagnosis. I remembered a time in sixth grade when he talked openly at the lunch table about the medicine he took.
To me, there were so manyotherpieces that made up Brady Judd.
The image of him fiddling with the key ring brought back the memory of us together in the shed. When I’d been snuggled up to his side keeping warm, he’d twirled my hair around his finger over and over. I’d felt the gentle tug and motion against my back for a long time that night. He hadn’t even seemed aware he was doing it, and I hadn’t stopped him ... for reasons.
I wondered if, as an adult, Brady needed to keep his hands busy to stay focused or if he was currently feeling nervous and off-balance, like me.
Finally, he met my gaze, and something like resolve stole over his features. “Maybe we should do it again. Kiss, I mean.”
My eyes widened.
“For clarification,” he added, turning his body to face me.
“For clarification on what?” I asked, feeling myself lean closer, tugged by an invisible thread woven with curiosity and the warmth he radiated.
“Well,” he murmured, licking his lips, “clarification for you since you’re so freaked out about it.”
My eyes dropped lower, and so did my voice. “Oh, and what about you? You’re not freaking out?”
I watched as his shiny lips tugged up in a rueful smile. “Nah, I already know what I want.”
I didn’t have the appropriate amount of time to freak out aboutthatstatement because he was getting closer.
With careful movements, Brady leaned into my space. I had plenty of time to turn my head, hop up, or push him away, but I did none of those things. Instead, I met him halfway, closing the distance between us and searching for the clarification he’d promised. I didn’t know if I’d find answers or more questions when our lips met, but when it happened, it felt like truth rushing through my veins.
Brady’s hand cupped my cheek. His thumb, once again, came to rest on my chin. There was no surprise this time—no hesitation or playing catch-up. Our lips moved in sync, slotting together as I rested my hand on his thigh for balance.
Brady’s hand shifted as he ran his fingers along my jaw before threading into my hair. Our mouths opened, deepening the kiss. Tongues tangled and breaths quickened while I sought balance in the storm. I brought my other hand to his chest, warm and solid. Brady’s fingers covered mine, holding me in place and steadying me.
Suddenly, his lips were gone, leaving me gasping for air as his mouth dragged over my skin. He kissed a hot trail from my jaw to just below my ear before rasping, “I want you, Mac. Just like this.”
My eyes flew open at his words, the ones breathed into my skin like a confession, like an oath.
Chin tilted up, I stared into the clear, cold night, an ocean of stars overhead. I couldn’t think—not with his tongue tracing down my neck as he turned his attention to a sensitive spot there.
Brady Judd wanted me, and, God help me, I wanted him too.Just like this.
Before I knew it, I was pushing against his chest to make room and climbing across his lap. He didn’t miss a beat as my knees straddled his strong thighs. Two hands came to rest on my ass as he continued his ministrations across my collarbone and over the hollow at the base of my throat.
I wound my fingers into his messy brown hair, gripping tight and keeping him close. If I was too rough, he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he let out a tortured sound and a warm breath.
I used the opportunity to bring his mouth to mine. Our kisses were hungry and a little wild now. Each of us eager and restless. A battle raging between us even in this. I wanted to laugh, to smile, to whisper,I fucking knew it, into his ear before biting down on the lobe.
