“Never said you were.”
Unlocking her door, she lets me go in first, but my mom raised me right. I don’t go in until she does. Once we’re in, she flicks the light on, leads me farther inside, and motions for me to set the bags on the kitchen counter.
I realize this is the first time I’m actually seeing her in the light. It’s wrong because this isn’t the moment to check her out but wow…she’s…beautiful.
Raven-black hair, deep brown eyes, and skin a golden tan. Her turquoise shirt is extremely loose and so are her shorts, but they’re mid-thigh, so I catch a quick glimpse of her muscular thighs. I fix my gaze back on the logo of her shirt.
“You’re a swimmer?” I voice out loud without thinking.
“Was.” She tucks a tendril of her hair behind her ear, then crosses her arms as if she’s self-conscious. “What did you want to talk about?”
Straight to the point. I wish I could read her, but her face is apathetic. Nothing, not even a flicker of light, shines in her eyes.
My stomach knots at what I’m about to ask, and my heart races the way it did that night. My mind screams to let it go, and move on because she’s alive like Angel said, but I know if I don’t ask, I won’t be able to.
“Can I touch you?”
Josefine stares, surprised, and takes a few steps back. “Why?”
That sounded better in my head. “Because I need to make sure this is real,” I pathetically admit. “I need to make sure mymind isn’t playing games with me. I—I know this sounds bizarre, but please. I promise I won’t make it weird. I just need to touch you. I need to know I’m not dreaming, Josie.”
Her eyes drop to my hands, then at my chest, and I wonder if she can hear it. If she can feel how unstable my heart is right now. How it’s thundering at a rate that no doctor would consider normal.
The seconds draw out agonizingly slow and I wonder, how badly did I mess up?That was weird. Why did I ask that? Of course I messed up. Way to make her uncomfortable.
“I’m sor?—”
“Okay.” She cuts me off, confliction swimming in her earthy brown eyes. “That’s fine. You can touch me.”
My brows almost hike up, but I stop myself, keeping a poker face before she changes her mind.
She stands in her spot, but that’s okay because I go to her. As I stand next to her, I note how much taller I am than her. She’s not short, but I definitely tower over her.
I don’t dwell on that as I look at her face. She’s staring at my chest, but I hear her breath softly hitch as I raise my hand. She must have her eyes on it, tracking its movement until it’s a mere inch away from her cheek.
Please be real,I chant in my head.
I hold my breath as my large palm connects with the skin of her warm cheek and when I finally cup it, I feel all the weight of that night disappear.
You couldn’t ask me what time or day or year we’re in; it’s all nonexistent. I don’t realize I’m still holding my breath until my lungs beg for a speck of air. Just one inhale, that’s all I take, as I drag the pad of my thumb along the smooth plane of her cheek.
My eyes flutter closed for a second before I open them again and tip her head back. I should let go, but when her eyes collide with mine, I’m struck by how little I see and how much I feel.
“Josie…”
“Hmm?” Her eyes never leave mine.
“I’m so happy you’re here.”
“You wouldn’t let go.” Her voice wavers, fragile like that night.
“I couldn’t and I wouldn’t.”
“Did you not get my note?”
I caress her cheek, reveling in how soft it feels and how very much alive she is. “I did.”
“Did you have doubts?”
