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“Humour me,” she pled.
I looked at her and found her watching me. Our noses were so close to brushing. There was enough light in the sky that I could see the outlines of her face. The way her cheeks turned up in a soft smile. The way her hair fell across the blanket. Her eyes searching mine. The way she licked her lips slowly, surely sub-consciously, as she waited for my reply. Something twitched in me, and I had to force my breathing to steady.
Had she been anyone else, I’d have rolled on top of her and kissed her silent.
Piper Barlow was one of the most kissable women I’d ever seen. She’d been kissable before I’d moved next door. She’d been kissable before I’d found her at the lakeshore. She’d become even more kissable since we started talking in the safety of the dark. But she wasn’t for the likes of me. The last two nights had cemented that in my head. Maybe if we’d been here before we’d talked, I’d have been unable to resist my urges. But she wasn’t just saccharine sweet, she was a good person who deserved…far more than the wreck I’d leave behind.
I hated having that much insight about myself. I hated that I wanted to kiss her. I hated that I had to stop myself wanting to kiss her.
I had to force myself to look back up at the stars. “Well, the town gossips aren’t wrong. The two of you look good next to each other.”
“But?” she asked, like she was hoping rather than expecting a but.
But? But I hated the idea of them together.
“Well, that doesn’t necessarily set you up for a successful relationship, does it? And,” I shrugged, “you could look just as good next to someone else.”
“Got any particular someone else in mind there?”
All right. For the space of a single heartbeat, I let myself be weak and entertained the image.
“‘Course not,” I replied, coyly. “I just think you’d look nice next to...other people.”
Had I not been me, she would have looked good next to me.
My hand slipped off my stomach and the back brushed against hers. I knew enough about popular culture to know this was like some fucking nancy romance movie scene. All it would take was one finger. A single purposeful brush against the back of her hand. A single finger would be joined by hers, then our hands would entwine. We’d turn to each other and I wouldn’t be able to help myself kissing her.
My finger stayed exactly where it was.
“Other people?” she asked and I heard the humour in her voice.
“Other people,” I agreed, unable to keep the humour out of mine.
“And does this have anything to do with the totally bogus effect I supposedly have on the male population of our town?”
I laughed. “You can’t be serious?”
“What? Why?”
“You can’t seriously not realise, Barlow?”
“Let’s for the time being assume so, Lombardi.”
“You’re very assertive suddenly.” And I loved it.
“Shall I get back in my box?”
I didn’t think I could stand that. She was gloriously herself and all just with me. I had something of her that no one else had. I couldn’t have any other part of her, so I’d do anything to keep that one.
But some physical distance between us would help me out here.
I sat up. “Fuck no, Barlow. Whatever you do, don’t do that,” I turned a sinful half-smile on her because I honestly couldn’t help myself. “Please, never do that. Not with me.”
“You don’t like me in my box?” She sounded affronted, but I saw the smile on her face.
My smiled widened and I quickly looked over the lake, hoping she hadn’t seen it.
“I like you fine in your box. If you really want back in your box, I won’t stop you. But, I’m not nearly annoyed enough by your incessant yabbering to wish you back in it,” I said as I ran my hand over my chin.
