Page 164 of Bend

“Probably not.”

I walk her upstairs anyway, keeping my voice low as we pass the closed bedroom doors. Echo’s still holding my hand, and I’m not in any rush to point it out. She seems softer than she was earlier, shoulders loose, that constant restless energy in her finally dialed down a little.

We stop outside her room and for a second, neither of us moves.

Echo looks at the door, then back at me. “Well.”

I smile. “That sounds ominous.”

“I was going to say I had a good time.”

“Were you?”

“I was. Then you made it weird.”

“Pretty sure you’re the one standing here dramatically.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Goodnight, Wolfe.”

“Night, waŋyéča.”

I lean down and kiss her.

It’s supposed to be simple, just a goodnight kiss.

Except Echo’s hand slides up the front of my shirt and curls lightly at the back of my neck, and when I start to pull away, she doesn’t let me get very far.

I look at her and she looks right back.

“That didn’t feel very goodnight,” I murmur.

Her mouth curves. “You complaining?”

“Not even a little.”

I kiss her again, and this one lasts longer.

She presses closer, my hand settling at her waist while her back finds the door, and there’s a quiet laugh against my mouth when the handle catches awkwardly against her hip.

“Smooth,” she whispers.

“I’m working with limited space here.”

“Sure. Blame the architecture.”

“You’re the one standing in front of the door.”

“You put me here.”

She kisses me again, her fingers tighten in my hair while mine slide around her waist.

The kiss deepens enough that we both forget about the door for a second, right up until Echo reaches blindly behind herself for the handle and misses it completely.

She breaks away laughing.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Need help?”