I drove her home. At her house, she glanced at me, and I leaned over and gave her a slow kiss before she got out. I watched her go, the night air cooling my skin, knowing I’d be feeling that kiss until morning.
Chapter sixteen
Mel
My alarm beeped, slicing through the early morning like a rude guest. I shut it off and curled back beneath the covers, limbs heavy, head foggy, lips still tingling from something that technically shouldn’t matter as much as it did.
It was just a kiss, my brain insisted.Except it wasn’t, my heart countered. Not with a cha-cha party still happening in my stomach, and not with the way Sean looked at me right before it happened—as if he’d snapped us into some glossy poster for his own private billboard.
There was no guessing what version of dating we were in. Undefined, unlabeled, but definitely something.
I rolled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom, feet dragging across the cool tile. The mirror greeted me with the usual: same curls, same sleepy eyes, same girl trying not to admit she hadn’t melted, freaking sugar style, under the midnight blue.
“Get a grip,” I muttered, reaching for my toothbrush. “People kiss. Grown-ups kiss. It was the third time we kissed. It was fine.”
No, it wasn’t just fine. It was the kind that left your knees weak the next day (I was the living proof). It made you want to rewind time and feel it again—slower, longer.
And damn it, he hadn’t even said much. Just walked me to his car, slid the food in the back seat, and kissed me as if the only thing that made sense in the world was me in his arms. Then he stepped back, leaving me like a knocked-out toaster oven after a power surge.
I rinsed my mouth and stared at the faucet, heart thudding for no good reason. It was fine. We were fine. He had a game tomorrow, I had a job to do, and no one needed to know that I’d barely slept because my brain kept replaying the way he’d saidNot happening.
Not a tease. A promise. And I didn’t mind one bit.
That was the part crashing over me—how much I didn’t mind. How fast things were moving. How different it felt from the spark I’d searched for years. How opposite of what I’d known with Vince. And how much it was something I hadn’t even known I’d wanted until Sean gave it to me.
Erica’s voice from our latest talk echoed in my head: “Big men can be big messes, Mel. Please make sure yours is worth the cleanup.”
I was halfway through getting dressed when the door creaked open. Some things never changed. Just like when Sam was three, sneaking out of her bed into mine, she still did it. She slipped in and flopped onto my bed.
“Sean’s house, Mel…”
I groaned. “Please don’t start.”
She ignored me completely, propping herself on her elbows. “Long, low-slung-ranch style. His has two buildings linked in an L-shape, grainy white exterior, stunning against that black tile roof. Oh, Lord, Mel. Thewindows!” She flung her arms wide, voice low, reverent. All she needed was a choir and a slow zoom. “Those perfect divided-light square panes. You know, the kind that makes everything inside glow in a Nancy Meyers-film style?”
I tried not to picture it. Failed.
“Sam, you’re reciting a real-estate brochure. Can Ipleasefinish getting ready in peace?”
She sighed, completely unbothered. “Wraparound porch on one of the wings and a gazebo in the back. Agazebo, Mel. The kind that screams ‘Kiss me dizzy under the moonlight.’”
I clenched the mascara wand tighter, blinking in the mirror. “Now that you’ve launched your side hustle as a Fixer Upper poet, can youleave?”
She didn’t move. She stared at the ceiling dreamily. “Wilhaggin neighborhood. Not flashy, just pure class. I can totally see myself picnicking with six nieces and nephews on that deep-green lawn.”
I whipped around and pointed a finger. “Sam!”
She grinned. “What? I’m a hundred percent on board with a future brother-in-law who dyes his hair to seduce my sister.”
A huff escaped my chest–half laugh, half exasperation.
I’d been coming home late, mostly to avoid crossing paths with Mom and hearing about Sean’s age, hairline, or whatever elseshe’d weaponize for dramatic effect. She was probably Google-search armed by now.
And I didnotneed Sam turning Sean’s house into a romantic dreamland. I narrowed my eyes on her.
“If you ever looked up from those books long enough, you might notice plenty of guys worth swooning over,” I said.
“Bingo. I know a subject-change move when I hear one.”
