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Chris walked Bronte to her door and leaned down to kiss her cheek.
She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“I wanted this to be a real date, and I think since it’s technically our first, proper etiquette says I should kiss you good night and go home.”
“Yeah, right.” She laughed. “Come on.” She opened the door, but he didn’t move. “Really? You’re not coming in?”
“Not tonight.”
She studied his somber face, guessing the whole Twitter debacle had really shaken him up, and she leaned into his chest, trying to cheer him up. “Hashtag please? Hashtag yolo.”
A slow smile unfurled across his mouth, and he moved his hands from his pockets to hug her close. “Hashtag you make me happy. Hashtag blessed.”
“Hashtag kiss me.”
He bent his head down, his lips meeting hers softly, barely there, but she corded her arms around his neck and pressed up onto her toes, bringing her head level with his. She did her damnedest to convince him to spend the night by licking at his lips, coaxing him to do the same, and eventually, he gave in, pressing her back against the front door as she kissed along his jaw, whispering pleas for him to stay.
Chris rested his forehead against hers, breathing through his nose a few times. “It’s late, and I don’t want you to be tired for your first day back at work tomorrow.”
Her hands found their way inside his coat and around his waist. “I won’t.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I have a lot on my mind.” He gently uncoiled Bronte from around him, kissing both of her cheeks and nose as consolation. “Tomorrow. I promise.”
Chris waited to leave until she gave a small wave from inside, and she closed her door with a sigh. Their whole relationship was based on the fact that they could always talk so easily with each other, their words flowing effortlessly about any subject, but he’d gone quiet now. If he wanted to keep the world out, Bronte couldn’t help but worry she might get shut out along with everyone else.
