Page 58 of Regretting Youu

Ugh. They both sound terrible.

Miller closes his door. “What’s that look for?”

“What look?”

He points at my face. “That one.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Nothing. I’m getting ahead of myself.”

He reaches for my hand and pulls me closer to him. We meet in the middle of his seat. That’s the thing about older trucks. The seats are long, without a console to separate the passengers. We’re even closer now than we were on the couch. Our faces are closer, our bodies are closer. Everything is so much closer. His hand is on my outer thigh, and I’m wondering what flavor of sucker he’s going to taste like.

“What do you mean you’re getting ahead of yourself? Do you regret kissing me?”

I laugh because that’s the last thing I regret. “No. I was thinking how terrible our ship names would be.”

I see relief take over his expression. But then his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Oh. Yeah. They’re terrible.”

“What’s your middle name?”

“Jeremiah. What’s yours?”

“The quintessential Nicole.”

“That’s a really long middle name.”

I laugh. “Smartass.”

I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. “Jerecole?”

“That’s so bad.” I’m thinking about it when it hits me how odd this is. We’ve had one small peck. We’ve only spent part of an evening together without him being attached to someone else, yet here we are, discussing ship names. I want to believe how he makes me feel, but the truth of the matter is he hasn’t even been single long enough to decide if he even wants this to go anywhere.

“You’re making that face again,” he says.

I sigh, breaking eye contact with him. I look down and grab his hand. “Sorry. I just . . .” I pause for a moment, then look back up at him. “Are you sure about this? I mean, you just broke up with Shelby today. Or yesterday. I don’t even know when, but either way. I don’t want to start something if you’re going to back out of it in a week.”

The silence after I finish speaking lingers in the truck for a lot longer than I feel comfortable with. We’re still holding hands, and Miller is lightly stroking the outside of my thigh with his other hand. He sighs, more heavily than I want him to. That kind of sigh is usually followed up with words that aren’t good.

“You know the day in my truck when you told me to figure out my shit?”

I nod.

“That was the day I broke up with Shelby. It wasn’t today or yesterday. It was weeks ago. And to be honest, my shit was already figured out long before that day. I just didn’t want to hurt her.”

Nothing else is said with words. It’s all said with a look. His eyes pierce mine with such a concentrated honesty that I suck in a breath. He moves his hand from my leg to my elbow and then slowly drags his fingers up my arm and neck, coming to a stop at my cheek.

I’m pulling in shallow breaths, watching his eyes as they scroll over my face and pause on my lips.

“Nicomiah sounds okay,” I whisper.

The moment is interrupted by his laughter. Then his hand slides to the back of my head, and he pulls me to his mouth, still grinning. It’s a sweet kiss at first, much like the one I gave him inside. But then his tongue slips past my lips and touches mine, and the sweetness is gone.

This just got serious.

I respond with an almost embarrassing hunger, pulling him closer, wanting him and his kiss to take away the last few droplets of grief that are still swimming around inside of me. My hands are in Miller’s hair now, and one of his hands is sliding down my back.

I’ve never felt anything so good and perfect before. I can actually feel the dread building inside of me, knowing this kiss will eventually come to an end.

He grips my waist and guides me closer so that I’m straddling him. Our new position makes him groan, and his groan makes me kiss him even deeper. I can’t get enough. He tastes like coffee rather than suckers, but I don’t mind because I actually love the taste of coffee now.