Page 82 of All The Ways to Miss You

“Sounds naughty.” She laughs.

I grab the spatula from the counter and lurch at her, threatening to smack her butt. She jumps from her seat and tears across the room to escape, using the sofa as a shield, but she’s no match for me. When I dive over it, I catch her by the waist and double tap her ass with the flat end. The spatula drops from my hand, and then I tickle her until she yelps with laughter and we fall onto the sofa.

When she’s trapped beneath me and our bodies have aligned, we lock gazes. There’s a long moment of silence with only the soft sound of our calming breaths.

“Last night,” she says, “thanks for not, you know, taking me up on my offer. I’m not ready.” She purses her lips, appearing ashamed.

“It wasn’t the right time. For now, I just want to kiss you.”

“Even if I was the one who wrote virgin on your chest?” She bites her fingertip coyly, then a smile grows that she tries but can’t contain. As soon as I respond with a shocked expression, she bursts out laughing.

“What?” I tickle her again until she can barely breathe. When I think she’s paid the price of the ten showers it took to completely remove the black Sharpie drawing, I place my lips near her ear and whisper, “Especially if.”

Then I kiss her. Everywhere.

thirty-seven

Eight weeks later, Cait and I stand on the Lakefront path outside Lincoln Park in thirty-degree weather. It’s the same spot we’ve been meeting at after school or work to run together. Or just the spot we hang out at to look at the city skyline when it’s dark. It’s kind of romantic, I guess, and it’s become our spot. The truth is, I’d love any place I’m with her.

“Maybe we should reschedule.” I reach for my toes and lunge to stretch my hamstrings. Because of the cold, they’re too tight.

“But we’ve been training for weeks.” Balanced on one foot, she tugs her knee to her chest and holds it.

“But the storm’s coming, and I’m freezing.” My tone wheedling, I stand and shiver in my cold-weather gear as I rub my hands over my arms.

“I think you’re afraid you’ll lose,” she says, trash-talking with a gleam in her eye. It’s something I’m becoming used to and prepared for. I remove the spatula from my hoodie pocket, wave it around, and lurch at her to swat her cute butt.

She bounces away and yelps. Laughing, she says, “I told you to leave that thing at home—for later.”

Since the night of the concert, our relationship has been effortless. If there were such a thing in a relationship, I would call us perfect. If it were to happen with anyone, it would be with Cait. I knew it in my bones when I met her, and I know it now watching the wind whip a loose tendril of her hair, her nose and ears turning bright pink in the cold, and her attention on me like I’m the only man in the world. I love her, but she doesn’t know it yet.

“You ready?” Cait sets the stopwatch on her cell.

“But first . . .” I tug her close and kiss her freezing lips until both of us are warm.

Every time we’re near, I think those three words in my head, hoping she’ll feel them every time I touch her. One day soon, I’ll build the confidence to tell her. But every time I think it’s the right time, my heart rate accelerates and my nerves hold me captive until the special moment is lost.

“May the best woman win.” She wriggles out of my grip and darts down the path, stealing a head start.

“Cheater.” I hurry to catch up.

On the first few miles, we settle into a nice pace, but that’s when the storm rolls in. Angry blustery clouds roil above, releasing a layer of snow within a few minutes.

“If we both forfeit, neither person wins,” I remind her.

She chortles. She’s so desperate to beat me, but she can’t help it. Something in her won’t give in, even though there’s five inches of snow on the trail and we’re slipping around like it’s an ice rink.

I lose my footing and slide for several feet. My arms whirl, trying to catch myself, but then I’m airborne and gravity drops me like a rock. I hit the ground on my tailbone and groan.

Cait finds me, my arms and legs spread wide like a snow angel. Though I’m fine, my pride is wounded. She glances down with her hands latched on her hips. When she sees I’m okay, she covers her mouth with one hand and laughs.

“Fine. We can go home, but the first nice day, we’re racing.”

She offers me her gloved hand to help me up, but I tug her down. She yelps and tumbles over my stomach and to my side. Now she’s laid out on her back too.

Grabbing a handful of snow, she launches it at my head. I turn away to scoop up my own arsenal and toss it at her, but when I release it, the wind smacks it back into my face. I pinch my eyes and nose tight at the stinging pricks of cold. This makes her laugh harder.

“That’s what you get for forfeiting.” She smirks.