Gavin made his way over and stopped at my back when he reached me. “Is that… is that from that night?” he asked upon seeing the photo.
It was a picture of Lana and me the night of the Valentine’s Day event. We were laughing. The flash had been too bright in our faces, but we didn’t care. I smiled at the photo as Gavin pushed up behind me, his chest flush to my back. I felt his chuckle in my hair.
“And there’s you,” I added, pointing to the far corner.
Gavin reached for the frame. He brought it up to his face, squinting at the blurred people in the background.
“In the middle of a crowded room, and all I could see was you,” he said. “I’m looking at you here.”
“Probably trying to decide which candy heart to put in my belt next,” I said. “Speaking of which—“ I dug further and brought out a pink shoebox full of things Lana and I had saved from Valentine’s and a few other parties she’d dragged me to.
I opened the box, revealing the rest of the photos we’d taken that night, along with concert tickets, some old earrings, the bag of heart candies, the fuzzy red handcuffs, and the note Gavin had left on my pillow.
I’ll find you, it had said.
Gavin’s hand squeezed my waist. That touch, that simple gesture… it sent my heart into an erratic pace. The way he looked at that note and the things we’d used that night, I wondered what it did to him, if it made his blood rush as much as it made mine.
He reached around me and picked up the note. “I had to search through all of your drawers to find that fucking pen,” he said. “I’m surprised I didn’t wake you.”
“I was so exhausted from…everything… you could have made yourself breakfast and I wouldn’t have heard you,” I said.
“Ididmake myself breakfast,” he said, and I laughed, twisting my head to face him.
He had the cutest look of nostalgia in his eyes that warmed my insides.
“You did?” I asked.
“Leftover pizza,” he said. “I dug into that snow cream, too.”
My entire face lit up at the mention of it. “Did you really?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It was good. A lot better than I expected. I actually…” he chuckled at himself, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I tried to make it a few years later.”
“You remembered how?”
“I said I tried,” he said. “I think I need another tutorial.”
God, he was fucking cute.
As I laughed, he picked up the candy hearts, then the handcuffs. “You have these in storage? Not using them?”
“Tyler isn’t exactly so adventurous,” I admitted. “And it’s hard to look at these without thinking of you.”
His smile lapsed as he squeezed my waist. I could see it growing in his eyes then: the hunger for what he knew he couldn’t have, the greed for our bodies to be one again, the responses to one another’s pleasure. His tongue darted out over his lips as his gaze wandered over my face.
“I like that,” he said, and my mouth went dry at the sound of his rasp.
I swiftly turned back to the box, desperate for any distraction to keep my mind from how close he was.
His chest pressed against my back, and I felt him inhale into my hair, his hand moving to rest on the curve of my hip.
“Why did you bring me here?” he asked into my hair.
I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the heat between my thighs. I was trapped between him and those boxes, and I didn’t care that I was close to falling into oblivion. I knew he would catch me.
“I don’t know,” I managed. “I think maybe… maybe I missed my things—“
“Look at me, Chloe,” he whispered.
