As soon as I hit the old highway, with Post Malone in my ears, I revved the engine and felt the pull of speed from my chest to my balls. I popped a wheelie, and my phone lit with an incoming text. Once my front tire came down, I tapped the screen.
McKelle: I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I thought you were going to kiss me.
Maybe my words had come out harsh. I pulled over to the shoulder of the road, out of traffic, tugged my glove off with my teeth, and tapped out a reply.
Ryatt: I wasn’t uncomfortable.
I smiled and followed the text with another one.
Ryatt: I wanted to kiss you.
Fuck.
Ryatt: When you’re ready.
Ryatt: No pressure.
Now, I felt like an idiot fumbling through my rapid-fire messages making an ass of myself when I said I could keep this in the friendzone.
Ryatt: Ignore all that.
McKelle: You don’t want to kiss me?
Ryatt: Do you want me to kiss you?
Here I was on the side of the road, cars whizzing past, leaning over the gas tank, resting on one elbow, with my face shield up, having a text conversation with the girl I couldn’t get out of my head. Fuck curfew.
McKelle: I shouldn’t want you to kiss me.
McKelle: Ask me the next time you see me.
The next time was now. Flipping around, I headed back to her house.
McKelle
Wild, reckless butterflies tumbled and collided in my belly. I’d wanted to lean into him while we were on the couch. I wanted to cuddle and cry on his shoulder when I talked about my brother.
Then I wanted him to stay when he said he had to leave. When he was on his bike, I wanted to climb on behind him. I wanted to go wherever he was going.
And when he stared at my mouth, I wanted his lips on mine. I’d never wanted anyone but Cruz.
As soon as his name was in my head, a wave of guilt washed over me. One kiss with Ryatt would have me drowning both in guilt and over my head in lust.
Once Ryatt’s taillight blinked into the distance, I’d gone into the loft to put away the quilt, turn off lights, and head into the house. Instead, I curled into the couch, picked up my phone, and did something stupid. No surprise. When it came to guys, especially Cruz, I’d made some stupid decisions.
Now, I’d morphed awkward into uncomfortable with Ryatt.
I’d been fantasizing about him when he was probably remembering Cruz kissing me at the track. I’d claimed I wanted to be friends, that I wasn’t ready to move on. All that was true. But I still wanted him to kiss me.
I’d been practically drooling on him, wanting him to make a move. If I was being honest with myself, I’d been attracted to him the first time I met him at one of Kiss’s meetings months ago.
But I had Cruz.
A low frequency buzz vibrated through me. I wasn’t over Cruz. God, I loved him. But there was something between me and Ryatt. I just needed to take a breath and figure out my feelings because they were all jumbled together.
A bike rumbled outside the garage. I jumped from the couch, bounded down the stairs, and threw open the garage door just as Ryatt stored his helmet on his handlebars.
He crossed the fifteen feet between us.
