Jack, whose face is barely visible beside me in the dark, is smiling, and I almost call him out on it until I realize that I’m smiling, too, like a sopping wet lunatic on the run.
A faint stream of light shines into the tower, and both of us still, eyes locked on each other, backs pressed against the icy wall as we await our fate. But we wait and wait, looking at each other, listening.
After a couple minutes, Jack shuts his eyes and presses his head against the wall. My eyes have adjusted more fully, and I take the opportunity his closed eyes offer to look over him—the water dripping from his hair onto his forehead and cheeks, the shape of his chest and arms. It’s been seven years, and despite spending so much time with him over the past couple of weeks, the memory of how it felt to kiss him seems to dim. What’s left is mostly a feeling, and I wonder if it would be any different now.
“Yes,” I say softly, my heart drumming as I turn my eyes away from him and to the dark ahead. I can’t bring myself to meet his eye.
His head turns to me. “Yes, what?”
I take a few uneven breaths before I answer. “Yes, I think about that night. All the time.”
The silence that follows my response is too much for me, though, and I turn to look at him, my head against the wall. He’s so much closer than I realized.
Slowly, deliberately, he steps out from the wall and in front of me, his eyes never leaving mine.
I couldn’t move if I wanted to; I can barelybreathe. His eyes close slowly, and his head tips toward me, and since I can’t move or breathe, I figure I may as well give up my sight, too.
Just as the world goes black, his lips meet mine.
The warmth of his mouth makes the stone on the wet clothes on my back colder than ever, and I shiver. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me toward him. Despite the fact that he’s wet, he’s not as cold as the stone, and I embrace the contact, setting my hands on his chest.
Just like that, I remember how it was to kiss Jack Allred. I remember how it felt for him to unclasp my extensions. I remember the sound of the Dr Pepper fizzing on the ground and the soda splattering my ankles. I remember the feel of his chest against mine and his breath on my face.
But this? This is the kiss I was hoping for when I went home to my apartment and fell asleep thinking about him. It’s the follow-up kiss I never got—the kiss I knew I couldn’t have. It tastes like strawberry, something I thought I’d never want to eat again after the last couple of days.
I was wrong.
His hands move up my back and end up in my hair, threading through it and keeping our mouths together.
“Excusez-moi!” The voice and light come simultaneously, and we break apart, shielding our eyes from the blinding beacon the flashlight casts on us. It lowers enough for my eyes to adjust and take in the security guard staring at us from the doorway.
19
JACK
The man shininghis flashlight yells in gibberish. Or maybe it’s French. My brain is admittedly not at peak-function at the moment because half-a-second ago, I was completely lost in the task of kissing Siena Sheppard. It’s going to take a hot minute for the flame to die down.
“We’re sorry,” Siena says, apparently not struggling as much as I am.
“You cannot be here,” the security guard says in heavily accented English. “You see ze sign, no?” He tries to turn it toward us, but the rope it’s attached to prevents it.
I bite my lip because his accent sounds exactly like the one I use to impersonate Philippe. But Siena isn’t laughing.
“We’re leaving right now.” Siena moves toward the doorway, and the security guard steps aside while she passes under, and I follow behind.
“I found zis by ze pool.” The security guard reveals a phone in his hand. “I assume it belongs to you.”
“Oh, yes, thank you,” Siena says, taking it from him. Even with just the light of the flashlight, I can see her cheeks turning red. Her hair is wet, hanging in loose, clumpy waves. “Again, we aresosorry. It won’t happen again.”
Is she talking about the trespassing or the kiss?I’mnot sorry about any of it, to be honest, which is why I keep my mouth shut.
“We’ll be going now,” Siena says. I kind of expect her to grab my arm, but she doesn’t. She shoots a nervous grimace at the security guard and walks toward the cottage.
I nod at the guy, then skip up to Siena’s side to keep pace with her. She’s chewing her lip, her eyes straight ahead.
“That was bad.” She runs a hand through the wet hair my fingers were in just a few minutes ago.
“Really?” I say. “I thought it was pretty amazing.”
