He forces his mouth into a faint smile and presses his forehead against mine. “Thank you.”
Pulling back, he lifts his face to place a kiss against my forehead, and then leans back against the headrest. His eyes close, and he exhales slowly like sharing such a big piece of himself took more out of him than he expected.
I decide I can give him a piece of me in return.
“My mom died when I was thirteen,” I tell him, my gaze lowering to my lap. “I can’t imagine losing an entire family all at once like you did. But sometimes it feels like I lost my dad too.”
I swear I feel him stiffen beneath me, but I’m too tired to even think to ask him what that’s about.
“You and your dad aren’t close?”
“Not really.” I shake my head and shrug. “Not anymore at least. He changed a lot after my mom died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I copy him—a forced smile, a quiet, “Thank you.”
After nearly a minute of neither of us saying anything else, it hits me that I’m still sitting in his lap. Feeling like it’s probably about time for me to go back to the passenger seat, I clear my throat and start pushing myself off using his door as leverage. Before I can get far, his arms tighten around me once more, holding me in place.
“Jackson.”
I look up to see an uncertainty and vulnerability in his eyes that I’m not used to being there. It makes my heart skip a beat.
“If there’s any part of you that would still want to…” He winces and starts again. “After the semester’s over—”
“Yes.” It comes out so eagerly it makes him chuckle. I don’t care. I nod and say it again. “Yes. I want that.”
He smiles, a beautiful view in the glow of the moonlight, all relief and quiet happiness.
“Me too.”
Placing his hand on the side of my face again, he presses his lips to mine, slowly this time, as if he’s afraid to break the moment. His thumb brushes over my cheek, tender and sweet, and I melt into the warmth of him all over again, into the soft press of his mouth and the faint taste of his breath.
When he finally pulls back, our foreheads rest together, the space between us filled with the kind of silence that feels like peace. I stay in it a little longer, not wanting to leave it. But I know I’ll have to.
I kiss him one last time, a quick peck, and then force myself to crawl back into the passenger seat.
“Are you going to be okay to drive?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
Driving, sure. How I’ll feel when I have to leave him, I don’t know yet.
“Where’s your car?”
I look out the windshield, just now realizing exactly where we are. I really was completely out of it earlier.
“The other side of the bridge, about a quarter mile back toward town.”
“I’ll give you a ride over there.”
The sadness at this night coming to an end starts to hit me, which is a little funny considering how it started. But as he puts the car in gear and drives over the bridge, I see his eyes flick tothe side, the guilt and shame still lingering around the lines of his face.
It makes me feel guilty too because none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t come out here tonight.
I’ll let him keep believing I followed him. Maybe I should tell him about the emails, but I can’t stand the thought of him thinking less of me because not only was I like everyone else who believed the rumors about him, I also chose to believe some stranger on the internet. And I was gullible enough to potentially put myself in danger.
I’m actually probably lucky itwasIsaac out here tonight and not someone else.
