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“Don’t you think about that night?” I asked, moving toward her.
She took one step back, keeping her face down and her arms tight.
“I mean, obviously,” she replied.
“Well, I think about it too.”
Lennon looked up then, her surprise written clearly on her face. I took it as a good thing and stepped closer. This time, she didn’t move away as my body came to stand flush with hers. God, up until now, I could’ve believed she was a figment of my imagination, but feeling her against me once more, I couldn’t deny this was reality. I sighed as the weight on my soul was lifted, free once again in her presence, and I raised my palms to cradle her face, stroking my thumbs against her paper-smooth skin.
“Dylan,” she said, raising her hands to grasp my wrists, “this isn’t—”
“I think about you all the fucking time,” I interrupted, firm and sincere.
“I think about you too—”
I wanted nothing else said. No buts, no reason this shouldn’t happen, and I kissed her. So hard and fast that the air was pulled from her lungs. I stole it as my own as my tongue teased her lips, coaxing them to open, and she complied with a needy whimper. Her fingers dug into my wrists, leaving fresh marks against my skin, while my hands cupped the back of her neck and head. Holding her to me, holding on tight, and hoping, this time, she wouldn’t dare let go.
“Len—what?” The voice of a man accompanied the sound of the front door, and I opened my eyes to see an older dude with gray hair and a matching beard, standing only a couple of feet away. His face was made of steel, protective anger steering his gaze as he demanded to know, “Who the hell are you?”
My brow crumpled immediately. I was unsure of who to look at—her or him. Was this her boyfriend? Did she even have one? Funny how I hadn’t thought to question her relationship status. Even funnier that I hadn’t thought to care … until now.
Lennon pulled away from me, brushing her hands against her sweatshirt, as if I’d dirtied the fabric with my touch. “Jesus, Dad,” she grumbled, swiping the back of her hand across her rosy lips. “This is, um, this is Dylan. He’s—”
“I’m a friend,” I said, casually stuffing my hands into my pockets.
Her father, a behemoth with hands the size of baseball mitts, crossed his arms and deepened his scowl. “I wasn’t aware my daughter had friends who kissed her like that.”
“He’s not gonna do anything to you,” Lennon said as her arms wrapped around her middle once again. “Right, Dad?”
The man grunted his distaste. Still, he nodded and slowly extended a hand to shake mine. Yet, despite his attempt at pleasantry, the scowl never left his face.
Lennon sighed, scrubbing a hand against her cheek, as if to wipe away the scarlet blush our kiss had left behind. “Did you, uh, did you want something?” she asked hurriedly.
He responded with a grunt. “Mom wanted me to tell you that dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes,” he said. “Are we inviting yourfriendor—”
“I don’t think he can stay,” she interrupted, and I bit my lip to keep from insisting that, yes, I absolutely could, if it meant refilling the well of inspiration.
“Okay,” her father replied before eyeing me suspiciously. “I’m right inside if you need me.”
“Yep,” she mumbled, and he walked inside. But not without glaring at me again first.
“Shit,” I said with a laugh. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
“Yeah, well, he probably would’ve,” Lennon replied, cold and distant.
This wasn’t right. I was fucking things up without knowing what I was doing in the first place, and I blew out a hot, agitated breath as I scrubbed my face with the palms of my hands.
“Okay, look,” I said, dropping my arms to my sides, “I’m sorry for showing up, unannounced. I should’ve called.”
Lennon swallowed, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t have answered anyway.”
That one hit my chest like a sack of bricks. I lifted my hand and rubbed the place where I could feel my heart, thumping away despite the agony. “So, I guess that means you don’t want to go out with me,” I said, soothing the sting with circular motions.
“I didn't say that,” she replied softly.
“So, you will?”
Lennon shrugged, as if she had no choice. But the smile that tugged at her lips gave her away. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said, sighing. “But I should probably eat dinner first. My mom’s been cooking all day.”
