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“Don’t think there’s any ‘used to be’ about it.”
Paige glances up at me, a frown dipping the corners of her mouth. “No. It’s definitely a ‘used to be.’ Somewhere along the way I think I lost it. Now, I’m a ball of worries. All the time. And I’m back living in my parents’ house. Like a child.”
I let go of the gear shift to reach for her hand, partly to make sure her attention is fully on me, but also because the way she’s fondling the seat is making this stupid sweater feel way too hot.
“You’re the girl who runs through shitty neighborhoods looking for abandoned animals. The one who got my roommate, who normally sends people walking in the opposite direction, to smile and tell you about his writing. When you saw a dog most people categorize as terrifying, you decided to adopt it and give it a home. Now, some of those choices were not necessarily smart, but I don’t think anyone could say they weren’t brave.”
That’s one of the longest speeches I’ve given, but the cresting smile and shine in her eyes makes every word I said worth it.
“I want to do something else. I don’t think it’s smart.” Paige stares at me, nervous energy vibrating from her. The look she gives me, full of burning heat, dries up any more long-winded responses.
“Go for it,” I choke out, wondering if she’s braver than I am.
When she leans across the few inches separating us, I know she is.
PAIGE
He thinks I’m brave.
All the sweet, strong words he just spoke fill the tiny car and press against my skin like an encouraging caress.
Dash stares into my eyes, seeing past them, into places even hidden from me. All that separates us is our breath, and even that feels like too much at the moment.
I want to be brave again, and he told me to go for it.
So, I do.
My aim is for his plush mouth, the one I’ve been daydreaming about when I should be applying for jobs. All I’ve wanted is to discover if his lips are as soft as they seem.
They’re not. The first bit of contact has a bit of giving, but then I meet a firm pressure. And I realize this is what I want. He doesn’t need to be a cushioned bed I sink into. He should be a steady force I can brace myself against.
When I press my mouth to his, I’m close enough to be overwhelmed by his fresh linen scent. With my eyes closed, I can drown myself in the crisp smell of his skin. I want to reach up and comb my hands through his messy hair, but I hold back. For now, we stay connected only with the gentle brush of my lips against his.
At first, I’m still, wanting to memorize what it’s like to fulfill a fantasy. But when he opens to drag in a deep breath, like he wants to fill his lungs with me, I press in closer. What could have been a simple peck forms into an exploration of Dash’s taste.
He can’t be compared to a food or a drink. All I can think is, he tastes of man. A dark full-bodied flavor that sits heavy on my tongue and loosens the muscles in my body until I want to drape myself over him.
My decision to keep my hands to myself seems impossible to uphold. My palms crave the touch of his face, the scrape of his beard along my sensitive palms. The coarse hairs tease my upper lip, daring me to give in.
I would, if it weren’t for a loud metallic clang that crashes through the garage.
Ripping myself away from Dash’s mouth, I stare around wildly, only to cringe when my eyes land on the image straight out in front of the windshield.
Standing in a pumpkin-patterned suit, crazy curly wig, and sporting a manic grin brought on by spiked punch and catching her daughter in a compromising position, is my mother.
“I’m David S. Pumpkins!” She shouts the catchphrase and triumphantly holds up the two wrenches I’m betting she just smashed together to get our attention.
I collapse back to my side of the car, barely suppressing a groan. When I glance at Dash, he’s wide-eyed, giving my mom and I a look like we’re insane.
Guilt sweeps over me.
Not only did I practically jump his bones, now he has to deal with my off-the-wall mother.
I’m a horrible friend.
I can’t believe I just went ahead and kissed him.
That’s not brave. That’s selfish.
