Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
As I folded down next to him, he asked, “What?”
“What?” I looked over.
“You sighed. You okay?”
I frowned for a second. “It’s weird. My parents don’t really watch me, but in some ways, that’s all they do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” And I didn’t.
I didn’t know a lot lately, but maybe, that was to be expected. A person’s always trying to make sense of things, and probably more so in a time like this.
I let out a breath. “Everything’s fucked up.”
His knees came up, and he put his arms around them, resting his chin atop. “Yeah. I can imagine.”
I looked at him, hearing the knowing tone from him. “Your friend died.”
“It isn’t the same as a sister.”
“You still know a little.”
“Yeah.” His eyes found mine, warming and holding mine captive. “I know a little.”
“Is that why you’re being so nice?”
He groaned, his head tipping back. His arms moved behind him, and he stretched out his legs. “We’ve been over this.”
“You said you didn’t know. You just were.’” I used his words.
He laughed under his breath. “You know, most girls would jump at the chance to sleep in my bed.”
“Yeah?” I hid a grin as my eyebrows went up.
“Yeah. I’m hot stuff. If you weren’t in mourning, I’d think you were blind. Check me out.” He waved a hand over his chest. “Hot shit. I’m a basketball star too, if you didn’t notice my greeting tonight.”
“Oh, I noticed.” He’d been heralded like a celebrity, but I also knew he didn’t want to talk about it. He was polite to them, but after a bit, his friends stepped in and had been shielding him the rest of the night. And he was hiding with me. I laughed. Maybe I was hiding with him. I needed this banter. An invisible weight on my chest lifted a little. “Thank you.” I raised my knees and rested my cheek on them, turning to peer at him. “And you are super duper cute.”
“Super duper?” He sat up, wincing. “Are you serious? You couldn’t go with something more manly?”
“You’re still a boy. We’re only in high school.”
He shook his head. “See? That’s where you’re wrong. We’re on the edge of adulthood. One more year for us, and that’s it. Off we go.”
“Like a little bird kept protected,” I teased. “They’re letting you fly.”
“Exactly.” He flinched. “I think. Or an eagle. Not a little bird. I’m an eagle. I’m lethal.”
I laughed. “Go for a vulture. I think they’re bigger.”
“But they’re ugly.” He winked at me. “They aren’t beautiful like eagles.”
“You’re beautiful?”
“Fuck yeah.” He puffed his chest out again. “I could be in magazines, I’m so pretty.”
He wasn’t lying. Give him some high-fashion runway threads, and the guy could go to Paris.
As if sensing my thoughts, his eyes grew serious—or maybe he was reading from me.
Was this . . .
He leaned toward me.
I was almost tipping because my arms were still wrapped around my knees, and like all the other times, it was like he knew exactly what was happening with me. He touched my shoulder, steadying me, and I closed my eyes.
No guy should make me feel like I needed his touch to be anchored in place, but it had happened. Somehow, whether he wanted it or not, Ryan had become that anchor. I was starting to wonder if I could go on without his presence. I was spinning, but then his hand switched, moving toward my head, and his thumb came to rest against my cheek.
He was so close, his eyes lingering on my lips.
Were we going to do this?
And then, his lips were on mine.
They felt like home, as if I’d been kissing him forever already.
I let out a sigh, and my mouth opened. He moved forward, his mouth answering mine, and I felt his tongue slip against mine.
I wasn’t going to think. I was feeling, and I felt him pull me closer.
I’d kissed a few guys back home. And I’d had one boyfriend, but it wasn’t serious. Some heavy petting—that’d been it—and it hadn’t felt like this. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised one bit.
We lay back in the grass, his mouth still fused with mine. He was tasting, kissing, nipping, teasing me. Someone moaned, and I could feel his hands around my face, as if he were cradling me literally in the palm of his hand. I suddenly tasted salt.
They were tears. My tears.
I was kissing Ryan and crying at the same time.
He paused, lifting his head. “Are you—”
“Oh God.” I rolled away, curling in on myself. What was I doing? Seriously? Fucking crying as I was making out with a guy?
“Um . . .”
“I’m so sorry, Ryan.” I couldn’t look at him. The tears wouldn’t stop. I brushed at them, and they kept rolling. “I have no idea—” Nope. We both knew. Everyone knew.
I was mortified.