Page 62 of Once Upon a Fall

“And sometimes make out with boys?”

I feel my cheeks heat. “No!” I say emphatically.

He chuckles. “That was a very serious ‘no.’”

“Okay, yes, I did do some of that. But that’s not why I brought you here. I wanted to show you the view.”

This was a terrible idea. I feel very stupid right now.

“Bummer,” he says, and my head swivels toward him. He’s looking out, but I can see that smolder even in the dim lighting.

Did he say bummer? Why does my body suddenly feel heavy and my heart feel like it’s going to beat out of my chest?

Slowly his gaze turns to mine. I don’t think I realized how close we were sitting on the back of my car until right now.

“Well, you have a boy up here now,” he says.

“That’s true,” I say.

“You said you could kiss me,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.

“I did?” I ask, confused.

“This morning, remember?”

I smile. “That was just a saying. I didn’t mean it.”

Why did I say that? I may not have meant it then, but I do mean it now. I really mean it now.

“Really?” He reaches up and tucks some hair behind my ear, and my mouth goes dry.

“No,” I say, the word coming out breathy, almost a whisper.

“If you meant it, tell me how you like to be kissed,” Dean says, leaning toward me. I do the same.

“What do you mean?”

His eyes, which had dipped down to my lips, move back up to mine. “I don’t want to get it wrong.”

“Oh,” I say. I can’t tell for sure, but I think I might have stopped breathing.

His palm comes up to my cheek, resting lightly there. “Tell me how you like to be kissed, Rosie.”

I don’t even know how to answer. No one has ever asked me that before.

“I—” I start, then stop when his thumb begins tracing slowly over my cheek.

He’s quiet, watching me. Patiently waiting.

How do I like to be kissed? I’m not sure. I can say how I don’t like to be kissed. Too fast. Too much. Like the man has already decided how it’s going to happen and my only job is to keep up.

That’s not what’s happening here.

“I like it when it’s soft at first,” I finally tell him.

He leans in and ever-so-lightly brushes his lips against mine.

I think I might melt from the contact, as slight as it was.