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My arms locked around his torso, and my fingers crawled up his back, pushing him closer. Panting, he pressed his body against mine, and our lips collided.
Moments later, when he started pulling back, I held him tighter, refusing to let go.
“Spencer,” he whispered, his lips now wandering around my ear. “It’s your mom. She just opened her door. She’s calling for you.”
“What?” I dropped my hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“We have to go,” he murmured, his lips moving down my jawline.
“Okay.” Catching my breath, I pulled away and glanced into the mirror. “Me first.” I brushed my fingers through the messed-up parts of my hair, gave him a brief kiss, and walked out.
* * *
I don’t know why Mom decided to take the back seat. Sitting next to Finn the whole ride was like torture. He looked so damn hot I could barely control my breathing. I had to squeeze my locked-together fingers to suppress the urge to take his hand or put my hand on his strong forearm and then move it up, over his folded on the elbow sleeve, and feel his muscles through that fine shirt that matched the color of his eyes, and—Cut it out!
Finn’s chest heaved. He cleared his throat, then resting his elbow on the open window, he rubbed the corner of his eyebrow with the back of his index finger.
Oh, God. Does he feel my feelings?
I slightly turned my head.
“Sorry,” I said quietly, so only he could hear me.
His shoulders shook from the soundless laughter.
When we finally arrived, I quickly got out of the car while Finn walked around to open the door for Mom.
It was a French bistro. A table was prepared for us next to a big window. Covered with a dark chocolate tablecloth, it had lit candles on it and a small bouquet in a rectangular, thin-glass vase.
Shortly after the waiter took our order, he came back with drinks: alcoholic champagne for Mom and Finn, and as I was underage, the alcohol-free one for me. When he left, Mom changed our glasses, then dropped a piece of bread into her now alcohol-free champagne glass and called the waiter back.
“Sorry,” she smiled. “I’m so clumsy. Can I get a new one?” She held her glass for the waiter to take it away.
“Of course, madam.”
Finn grinned.
“Mom?” I raised my eyebrows as the waiter left. “Wow.”
“What?” she shrugged. “It’s not every day you turn eighteen. You can’t celebrate it with some . . .” she waved her hand, “. . . soda.”
Mom was spoiling me these last few days, and it made me wonder if it was her way to apologize for lying to me my whole life about what I was, or if she thought that I must be freaking out since the full moon was only two days away, and she wanted to distract me, make me relax.
If it was the first reason, then it sure bugged me the past month. But right now, it was the last thing that bothered me. It was the full moon that scared the hell out of me, and I couldn’t be luckier, and more grateful for having Finn, and for him showing up at the last moment. I can’t even imagine what would happen if I hadn’t met him. Would Mom still have kept it a secret from me until the last minute?
We talked and laughed, and it was a beautiful evening. Though I couldn’t help but notice that sometimes even when Mom laughed, her eyes remained sad.
We were finishing the dessert when something drew my attention to the window. I glanced at the street. A guy was coming out of his car. Facing the window, he leaned on the hood and moved his searching, narrowed eyes around. The moment I came into his view, he straightened up as if he recognized me. I held my breath for a second, then understood why. I recognized him too. It was the blond, blue-eyed guy from the gas station.
I looked away, and when I glanced out the window again, the guy wasn’t there. My eyes traveled around, and I saw him walk into the bistro. He eyed the room like he was looking for a vacant table. But the place was full. He glanced at me, then at Finn, then frowned and went back to his car and leaned on the hood again.
Finn, who was sitting with his back to the window and talking to Mom, suddenly clutched my hand under the table. We looked at each other, and I saw the gold lining his pupils.
“Finn?” I stared at him. “Your eyes.”
His jaw tightened.
“We have to go.”
