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The unsubtle batting of the eyelashes, the way the back of her hand is practically glued to mine, and the shared glances, I think it’s safe to say, “I was hoping you’d say that.”
With the crowd flooding down the street around us, we stay with the flow. I keep her tucked under my arm when a group passing is oblivious to her presence.
She looks up at me, and asks, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why were you hoping I’d say that?”
Oh.Um. I scratch the back of my neck. “I’m not ready to say good night to you either.”
“You say such sweet things to me, Harbor.” She double steps, walking backward in front of me. “Why do you have to be so good?”
“Good to you? Because I like you, and you deserve it. You have a good heart, Lark.”
Though others are rowdy in the vicinity, I’m more in tune with her. She’s the kind of good that needs to be protected at all costs, the light that makes a day shine brighter, and my night worth staying awake longer. I scratch the back of my neck as my head fills with nonsense. What am I doing?
Lark’s great, but I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time. For good reason. I’m a fucking mess. She doesn’t need me to dump that on her. But fuck, she’s gorgeous, and that mouth—whether speaking or kissing—tells me to fuck it all and go for it. She’s worth the mess and pain, the lost early morning hours.
She takes my wrist, holding it between her hands, and double steps. “This was fun.”
“It was.” I give my trust to the hands of fate and swear I’ll never complain about the direction our lives take if it means more of Lark in my life. I ask, “Are you hungry?”
“I wish we had somewhere else we could go, grab a meal, and spend time together.”
“Everything’s shutting down at this hour.”
She sighs. “That’s too bad.” Suddenly, she pulls me to the side of a building, out of the main foot traffic of the sidewalk. Stopping abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk, she digs into her bag and pulls out her phone. With her eyes on the screen, she says, “My friend invited us to a party over on Delaware Avenue.” She looks up at me. “Do you know where that is?”
Too well.It’s not an area of town I visit anymore. I run my hand through my hair and look to the side. It’s quieter, most clubbers already gone from the area. I reply, “I know.”
She drops her phone back in the small bag looped around her body and takes my hand. The connection is felt strong in my chest, causing me to stand straighter as energy vibrates between us. Anticipation. Exhilaration. The feeling of something new, something beautiful blooming between us. She asks, “Do you want to go?”
Despite this growing bond I feel with her, I hesitate, not wanting to unpack my baggage in the middle of our first date. “What do you want to do?”Please don’t say the party.
She holds my hand like a lifeline, the streetlights bouncing in her eyes as if dancing just for me, and her smile exudes happiness. I’ll give her the world if it means she’ll always be this happy. Taking a quick breath as her body still wriggles with adrenaline from the club, she says, “I’d rather be alone.”
Not what I expected, but exactly what I want as well. I’m hoping she means alone with me since I’m not ready for the night to end. “Would you like me to take you home?” I ask to make sure we’re on the same wavelength.
She grabs the front of my shirt, tugging me closer. Lifting, she kisses my chin until I dip so she can reach my lips. There’s no way I’m going to be able to resist her once we’re alone. “Yes, with you.”
I take in the sight of her before me. Her hair is up, but strands have escaped the elastic and hang wildly around her head. With her eyes locked on mine, her tongue runs along the corner of her lips completely unaware of the reaction it causes.So fucking innocent.“Is that an invitation?”
“Yes.” She kisses me, her arms wrapping around my neck and holding me close. “And sealed with a kiss.”
I smirk.How can I not?Judging by how she’s looking at me, like I might make a tasty snack, I’m starting to realize that alcohol might be involved in the action. I caress her cheek and then kiss it. “Let’s go home then.”Home?
I’m not sure why that came out so effortlessly, but with this incredible creature clinging to me, I’m not going to stand here to work it out. Not when I can be working other things out, like pent-up sexual frustrations, in the privacy of her bedroom.
I take one of her hands and hold it because I like having the connection. And by how she moves closer to me as we walk to the car, I’m certain she feels the same. Guess even the feisty aren’t immune to the Westcott charms.Go figure.
Holding her close feels natural and not like this is the first time. She feels good and fits nicely in the nook of my arm.
Plenty of girls are clingy with me.
Lark feels different.
Larkisdifferent.
