“I’m a writer, Eli. I read people.” I softened my tone. “You said earlier your grandmother used to make Christmas special. How long has she been gone?”
“Three years.” The words came out rough. “And I’m not discussing this.”
“Okay.” I let it drop, but I’d seen the truth. He’d ordered everyone back not because the metrics demanded it, but because he couldn’t face another Christmas alone. “For what it’s worth, I get it. Being alone during the holidays sucks.”
Something in his shoulders relaxed. “The timing could’ve been better.”
“You think?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Point taken. What about kissing?”
I swallowed a mouthful of food and stared for a long moment before finally managing to ask, “Sorry?”
“You said you dated senior year. I’m assuming that involved some kissing.”
Oh crap. We were really doing this. Talking about my pathetic kiss history with the hottest man I’d ever seen while surrounded by Thai food containers.
“One kiss,” I admitted. “During a youth event at church. He got me away from the crowd, and I thought, okay, this is it. This is the moment. I’m a normal high school senior doing normal high school senior things.”
“But?”
“But it was…” I searched for the right word. “Wet. And aggressive. Like he was trying to consume my face. I spent the whole time trying not to gag and wondering if I was doing it wrong or if he was doing it wrong or if kissing was just universally terrible and everyone was lying about it.”
Eli made a sound that might’ve been a laugh or a cough. “One bad kiss doesn’t mean all kisses are bad.”
“Spoken like someone who’s clearly had good kisses.”
“I have.”
“Well, good for you.” I picked up my fork again, suddenly needing something to do with my hands. “Some of us peaked at one terrible kiss and called it a day.”
“That’s a shame.”
Something in his tone made me look up. He was watching me with an intensity that made the air between us feel thick and charged.
“Why is it a shame?” My voice came out breathier than I intended.
“Because a good kiss is…” He paused, considering. “It’s everything. When it’s right, when it’s with the right person, it can make you forget your own name.”
My mouth went dry. “That seems dramatic.”
“It’s not.” He leaned back in his chair, but his gaze never left mine. “A good kiss has buildup. Anticipation. You know it’s coming, and the waiting is almost as good as the kiss itself.”
Oh.
“What else?” The question escaped before I could stop it.
The corner of his mouth quirked up—the closest thing to a smile I’d seen from him all day. “It’s about reading the other person. Paying attention to what they respond to. A good kiss isn’t one-sided. It’s a conversation.”
“A conversation without words.”
“Exactly.” He tilted his head, studying me. “And it starts soft. Testing. Learning. You don’t just dive in face-first like you’re bobbing for apples.”
I snorted despite myself. “That’s a horrifying visual.”
“But accurate?”
“Painfully.”
