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Nice. Lovely. Splendid.
Am I kidding?
Of all the things I could have said. Anything and everything at all.
If our charade wasn’t my only ticket to freedom, I’d throw myself into a cluster of desert flowers and spend the rest of the trip hiding in the canyons.
“The griffins?” His eyes narrow, a charming smile creasing his face.
“You read my favorite book out loud,” I offer as the worst explanation known to humankind. “In one of my favorite places, nonetheless, and we just got carried away. Right? I mean, things like that happen. Libraries are very erotic places.”
Yes, excellent.I’ll get that printed on a T-shirt when I’m back in New York City.
“You’re talking about our kiss?” He leans closer. The shadow his frame casts over me teleports me into yesterday. I take a step back, and my ankle brushes against something sharp.
“Ye-ow!” I jolt and look down. A harmless cactus sticks into my skin. One second, the short prickles shock me, and the next, I’m wrapped safely in Matthew’s arms.
His face is blank except for the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
“Sorry,” I say into the space between us.Ugh. I’m trying to stop saying sorry. It’s frustrating that I can’t turn off the autopilot response.
“Don’t be. I’m glad I’m around to keep catching you.”
I blush. “I’m a bit klutzy.”
“Are you sure you aren’t doing it on purpose?” He smirks.
“Uh—” The words catch in my throat. Is my crush subconsciously sabotaging me? Oh no. “On purpose?”
Matthew lets go of my waist, and I almost chase after his touch. “Well, there was the maze,” he begins.
“Ah!” I shriek with laughter. “Funny.”
He doesn’t seem amused. “You were saying?”
“We probably shouldn’t do that thing we did again,” I whisper reluctantly.
“Kiss?”
“Yes.”
Matthew zeroes in on me. “You don’t want to kiss again?”
No.
“Yes.”
His eyes pierce me, a crease in his forehead deepening for a moment before it softens. Then he nods.
“Okay,” Matthew says, not offering another response before walking ahead of me again.
My heart drops, sucker punching me in the gut. This man is impossible to read.
“Hey, wait up.” I lengthen my strides to keep up with him, my shoes kicking up red dust. “Don’t get me wrong; it was very, um, good—very good, actually—but it’s probably not smart of us to do it again. Right?”
He turns toward me but keeps his feverish pace on the trail. “Goodwould be the last word I’d use to describe what we did in the library.”
I’m jogging after him now. “W-what word would you use then?”
