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The flippant response made me sigh. “Why quit something you’ve been so passionate about for the last six years?”
“Are you asking because you care or because you thinkBabblewill care?”
“You can’t deny that it’d make a good article. Everyone’s probably dying of curiosity. You practiced all summer and you quit before the first game of your final season? Something smells fishy to me.”
“Don’t.” There was zero humor in his voice. Instead, he’d filled it a with warning that took away any traces of levity from a few moments ago. “I mean it, Ava. You can post about everyone else, but put me on your blacklist.”
“I don’t have a blacklist,” I replied, but it was more or less a lie.
And Reed knew it. “You never post about your friends. Rachel, Maisie, Alex—they’ve never gotten an article. And you never post about yourself. That’s a blacklist.”
It was true that I’d never posted about my friends, and I didn’t post about Alex by association. Rachel and Maisie didn’t have the kind of draw the Top Tier had. I loved them to death, but they weren’t “drop everything” worthy. If most Brentwood High students saw the article title, they’d say “Rachel who?” Which tanked likes and comments, and no likes and comments equaled less visibility. I needed that engagement, and the Top Tier guaranteed it.
It wasn’t a topic I wanted to talk about anymore, especially not with the judgey eyes Reed gave me. Plus, there was an awkwardness between us now, one that had been conjured by my embarrassing proposal and his firm rejection. Suddenly feeling bone-weary tired, like the rattling of a screw couldn’t stop me from sleeping now, I pushed away from the island. “We should get to bed. It’s already after midnight, and Rachel’s alarm clock is always a rude awakening.”
Before I could get more than two steps away, Reed’s hand curled around the spot above my elbow, halting me. The judgey eyes were gone, replaced by something that brightened his gaze like before. I could’ve sworn there was curiosity there. “So, after that pep talk, you’re not going to follow through?”
“On what?”
“Our kiss.”
For no reason at all, my heart fluttered in my chest. Instead of letting my surprise shine through, I put a hand on my hip. “I thought you couldn’t kiss me.”
“I didn’t say it was a good idea,” he said, shooting me a look that matched his words. “But if you want to get it over with, and you feel…comfortable with me, I can—I can do it.”
“Jeez, take one for the team, why don’t you.”
Reed smiled, and despite his hesitance, it was real. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him smile without some sort of sarcastic amusement or malice.
Like all the other times a kiss was a possibility, my stomach flipped over, desperate to escape the nerve-wracking situation. The floorboards underneath my feet grew warm and stuck to my toes. I wiggled them, freeing them from the suction. “Maybe…maybe it’s not a good idea.”
“No, you wanted your first kiss.” Reed took a step toward me, and suddenly his body was all imposing lines and warm skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a good one.”
I bit down on my lower lip, recalling how many Babble submissions I’d gotten about Reed’s kissing skills. I’d read enough to know he was good at it.
Just a kiss. It was the key to unlocking all the nerves in me. I could get rid of this pesky first kiss, and then I could stop overthinking it with any other guy that came across my path. I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about it, least of all Rachel, but really, this kiss was for me.
“Run me through the basics,” I instructed, brushing my hair from my eyes. This was no big deal. “Like…what do I do with my hands?”
Reed came close enough to plant his hand on the counter behind me, and we were suddenly closer than we’d ever been before. It was…weirder than I expected it to be. Not necessarilywrong, but awkward enough that I held my breath. I came face to face with that prominent collarbone, his body heat threatening to swallow me in a warm embrace. “Whatever feels natural.”
Of course, with our height difference, Reed looked down at me, most of his face hidden by the darkness of the kitchen. “Um, okay.”
“Make your kissing face.” I wanted to point out that I didn’t have a kissing face—Ms. Never Been Kissed over here—but instead I pursed my lips into what Ithoughtwas right. Until Reed snorted. “A little less of a duckface.”
“A duckface,” I muttered, offended, but relaxed my lips to the point where they were barely pursed. It must’ve been exactly what he was looking for, because a second later, he was slanting forward. “Whoa, wait!” I yanked my head away while he jumped. “Uh, which way are you leaning?”
“Leaning?”
“Yeah, like…are you going left? Should I lean left, too? Or are you leaning right?”
“You’re overthinking this.”
“I don’t want to mash my nose into yours.”
He chuckled but never answered, leaving me to watch which way his chin tilted. When the shadows shielding his expression began to clear as he drew nearer, a new thought zipped through me.
“Wait, wait,” I rushed to say again, pressing my palm against his skin to stop him. His bare skin. Hishotbare skin. I tugged my hand to my chest. “What—what do I do with my tongue?”
