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He scowls and I begin to understand. He thinks I’ve pulled away because of Sebastian.
No. It’s time once and for all to let Oliver know that he’s the one.
He’s the one. It’s always been him.
That’s when I grab his shirt, my knuckles jamming into his hard chest. A sound of surprise rumbles deep in his throat as he continues to kiss me, and I find myself matching his groan. I’m vaguely aware of footsteps trudging away in the sand. Good. Maybe Sebastian’s given up and will leave us alone.
After a moment, we both need some air. We’re panting and Oliver’s cheeks have gone a shade of warm red.
My head bows and I grab the hem of my sweatshirt. I can’t match his gaze. It’s too much. The heat from the bonfire, the heat from the kiss, I can no longer tell which is which.
My gaze catches on a blob of mustard on my sweatshirt.
Seriously? All these years spent wondering what Oliver’s lips feel like and I’ve gone and kissed him while wearing a ratty, old sweatshirt that I spilled mustard on?
Oliver barely even glances down at the mustard stain in the shape of the African continent. He frowns again. “Was this—? Are you okay?”
I nod, a ball still in my throat.
“Do you want this, Sophie?” His expression is pained.
“Does a bear want honey?” I half giggle, half inhale. I let go of my sweatshirt and cover my mouth with both hands.
He smiles. “I want this, too. I didn’t know how to figure—us—out.” Now he’s gesturing between us.
“Right. Right.” I’m nodding. “I know. I’m not sure, either.”
He tugs me closer. “Side note…” He brushes his lips across the top of my forehead, ending in a small kiss just above my eyebrow.
Above my eyebrow? I never knew a kiss there could affect my whole body.
“If you everdon’twant me to kiss you, don’t wear this sweatshirt, okay? Because it’s amazing on you.”
I laugh again, but realize he’s serious as he’s staring at me, his gaze boring into me. Oliver’s sultry eyes are a sight to behold. I wish I could tell my sixteen-year-old self:Don’t worry, Sophie, in the distant future, he’ll be giving you the look of a thousand knights in shining armor. Just you wait.
He circles his hands around my hips, breathing in my hair. “You smell like fresh peaches. I love your shampoo.” He inhales against my head. “How do you smell like peaches and not campfire right now?”
I take a step back. “Thanks.” I chew on my bottom lip. “True confession? I’m wearing doggy dry shampoo. Juicy peach scented doggy dry shampoo.”
The shame. The shame!
He tips his head back and laughs. He looks at me and shakes his head. “I love that. Does Wilford know you borrow his beauty products?”
I shrug and feel the corners of my mouth twitch. I’ve only had to use it twice, ever, and both days, I ended up spending time with Oliver. “I ran out of mine, and his was almost brand new. It works.” I dip my head to the side like I’m about to do two air guns and shoot him with a wink. Thankfully I stop myself before I get too far intothat.
We’re standing here, downright sloppy silly grins on our faces, when there’s a gigantic slosh, the sound of water pinging against metal. Suddenly the bonfire is out, hissing with steam. Sebastian and one of the employees of the resort are standing there holding a large metal can. “Let’s pack up and go,” Sebastian barks.
Oliver starts to cough because of the plumes of smoke emanating from what’s left of the bonfire. I feel a tickle in the back of my throat and begin to cough, too.
“You could have warned us,” Oliver says to his brother, looking like he wants to shred him to bits. I pick up my paper plate. At some point, Wilford scarfed down what was left of my food.
Oliver grabs my hand, and we walk further away from the smoke. The temperature is dropping with the fire out. My hands and feet are ice. Or maybe that’s just my shock response from Oliver’s kisses.
Maybe smoke follows beauty, or kissing couples, because it’s following us, and Wilford is rearing up and barking at it like it’s alive and going to attack.
“Wilford, it’s okay.” I crouch down to calm him, and see the mustard stain again. My first instinct is frustration at spilling. But Oliver likes me in this sweatshirt. He said if I didn’t want him to kiss me again to be sure I didn’t wear it.
We actually kissed.
