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“No, I know.” He goes quiet.
Which is very un-Knox-like.
“Can I give you a ride home?”
I make a face. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, I’ll just hold your bag hostage, then.” He winks at me and strides off. “You know where I usually park, sunshine!”
I stop. Beth comes out of a side hall and pauses beside me.
“What’s up with that expression on your face?” she asks. “Like you just tasted something… deliciously sour.”
“That’s weird, Beth.”
She shrugs. “So?”
“Knox is being weird.” I sigh. “I mean, we kissed in my room?—”
“Hold up,” she screeches, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the girls’ bathroom down the hall. “Spill. All the details.”
I wave my hand. “I had a panic attack and called him. He climbed in through my window. We kissed. Mom walked in and interrupted.”
“Before tongue or after?” Beth demands.
She’s the one who’s had three boyfriends. She knows all about kissing and tongue and otherstuff, like the mechanics of blow jobs and sex. She’s the one who gave me instructions last year at a sleepover, barely getting through it without giggling.
“Before,” I mumble. My face is getting hot again. “And now he has my backpack, so I’ve got to go retrieve that. I think he’s going to drive me home…”
She was going to do that.
But clearly, the prospect of him kissing me again is all she can think about, because she’s practically giddy. She pushes mein his direction, clapping loudly. “You got this!” she calls. “Kiss him with tongue!”
Jesus.
I find Knox’s car pretty easily. He’s leaning against the back bumper, smiling like the cat who just caught the mouse.
“Get in, sunshine,” he says.
I roll my eyes, but I do as instructed. I try to breathe normally, to focus on the fact that this is just my neighbor giving me a simple ride home.
But all that goes out the window when he gets in, starts the car, and pulls onto the street, then puts his hand on my thigh. I stare at it for a long moment. The heat from his palm is incredible, seeping through my jeans at an alarming rate.
And then he heads in a different direction. One we’ve been before, that leads to the lake. Away from home. We’re silent the whole way there. Also not very Knox-like. The hand on my leg, the quiet… it’s making me nervous.
“Say something,” I blurt out, just as he turns into the parking lot for the lake’s boardwalk.
He parks and kills the engine.
“I’m going to kiss you again,” he warns, twisting toward me.
I mirror his movement, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
This kiss is guaranteed to not get interrupted.
And it isn’t. Not when he slowly reaches for me, cupping my cheek. Not when we both lean forward, drawn together like magnets. Not when our lips touch for the first time, sliding tentatively together. Or when his tongue sweeps along the seam of my mouth, a tentative ask to open. Which I do.
And the taste of his tongue suddenly in my mouth, playing with mine. His kiss morphs from slow and shy into something much more aligned with his personality. Friendly and open and full of passion. I feel it, too. I’m caught up in the desire coursing through me, zapping all over my skin, I barely register his handon my hip. Then his thumb on my bare skin just above the waistband of my jeans, under my shirt. Dragging lines across my skin that leave me tingling.
