Page 61 of Sparks Fly

Eventually, we had to move. Not because the want faded. It didn’t. But because time pressed in, because the clock didn’t care what we were trying not to do. We stayed tangled longer than we should have, foreheads touching, legs still wrapped, breathing slowing only because it had to.

I traced idle lines along Sawyer’s arm, memorizing the weight of her, the warmth of her skin, the way she fit against me like she’d always known where to go. She pressed a kiss into my hair, then my temple, like she was sealing the moment in place before we broke it.

“Okay,” I murmured, even though I didn’t mean it yet.

She sighed, soft and unwilling, but nodded.

We untangled slowly, reluctant limbs and one last lingering kiss, her hand squeezing mine like a promise instead of a goodbye. When she stood she pulled her bra and shirt back on, movements unhurried, her eyes never quite leaving me. I stayed on the bed a beat longer, watching her like I didn’t trust the room to hold the memory once she stepped away.

Later I walked her to the door.

Sawyer hesitated with her helmet in hand. “What’s your weekend look like?”

I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face. “Full-on bridal shower chaos. Saturday’s the bridal party. Sunday’s favors, centerpieces, the whole pre-wedding circus.”

She blinked. “Sounds… exhausting.”

“You have no idea,” I muttered. “My friends are intense. Junior League, debutante ball, ‘why aren’t you married yet’ kind of intense. If they knew I was seeing a woman, let alone you—”

“Me?” She raised a brow, amused.

“You ride a motorcycle. You weld metal for a living. You have rainbow hair and wear leather,” I said dryly. “They’d spontaneously combust.”

Sawyer smirked. “And yet here you are.”

“Yeah,” I said more quietly. “Here I am. And I really like it.”

She stepped closer and brushed her knuckles along my jaw, her touch light but grounding. “Yeah?”

I hesitated, then answered honestly. “Yeah, I do. I mean… It’s a lot, but I’d rather be with you this weekend.”

Her expression softened. She kissed me slowly, one hand cupping my cheek.

“We’ll have our time,” she whispered. “I promise.”

“It won’t be until the weekend after next.” I groaned. “That feels impossibly far away.” I glanced toward the bedroom. “Maybe we should go back to bed, fuck now, and stop pretending.”

Sawyer leaned closer, her voice low and confident. “We’re not pretending.” She kissed me once. “We’re giving it time.” Another kiss. “And I’m worth the wait.”

“You’re so cocky.”

“I’m so right.”

I laughed, kissed her one last time, “Good night, baby.”

“Goodnight, Sunshine.”

She stepped into the cool night and pulled on her helmet. After swinging onto the bike, she looked back at me once.

I stood barefoot in the doorway, arms crossed like I was trying to hold myself together. Sawyer rode off, and I stayed there until the sound of her motorcycle disappeared.

My heart was still racing, my body warm with the memory of her.

This didn’t feel like a fling anymore. It felt like a door I had already walked through.

When I finally went back inside, I saw the spare helmet sitting on the table.

My helmet.