“She says it’s romantasy. It’s the latest reading rage, apparently.”
He smiles. “That’s cool, beautiful. What else?”
What else? I’m still hung up on beautiful.
“I like beautiful. It’s better than little mouse,” I admit. My muscles don’t tense up, waiting for his judgment. I’m melting into his arms.
“How about sweet Sorrow?”
I think about it for a few seconds. “I like that too.”
“You’re good with beautiful and sweet Sorrow?”
I give him the truth. “I’m good with any endearment as long as it’s from you, Trace.” I edge away from his neck and glance up at him.
His face softens. I tip mine to him. Trace slants his head and presses his mouth to mine. Not waiting to find out whether he’ll close his eyes or not, I close mine. His lips are pillowy soft. There’s peaceful silence around us, and I’m warm. Warmer than I’ve ever been wrapped up in his big, muscular arms.
I move my mouth from side to side. He is still as a statue, letting me do whatever I want to his mouth. After the third time of this side-to-side motion, I hold still and let him take the lead. He presses his mouth full on mine and stays there. His chest rises and falls against my chest. Is he sniffing me? I smile. His mouth curves on mine. I’m right. He was inhaling my scent. I hope I smell nice for him.
I open my eyes. He’s looking at me cross-eyed. With my mouth closed, I laugh. Our mouths are still fused in this kiss that I never thought a sex-crazed boy like Trace Saints would be satisfied with. I expected him to stick his tongue down my throat.
“Best kiss, Sorrow,” he murmurs on my mouth.
“Really?” I’m shocked. The kiss was so chaste. “Why’s that, when there were other kisses?”
“Because I felt it here, beautiful.” He places his palm over his heart.
I could cry. I could skip around the pool in a celebratory dance with my arms high above my head and a cheesy grin. I do something that feels right. I lean in and brush my eyelashes over the crest of Trace’s cheek and rub my nose on his before I give his mouth a quick peck.
“Hmm, I dig those kisses.” He closes his eyes. “More.”
Smiling, my heart pumping fast, and the butterflies fluttering low in my belly, I rub our noses and trail my eyelashes on his face from his forehead to his cheeks and the stubborn jut of his chin, before his lips become my landing spot.
“Did you like that?” I shyly ask him.
“Very much so.” He opens his eyes. Beneath the lights, his eyes are more blue than bluish-green. “Thank you, Sorrow.” His hands clamp on my waist. “Flip around. Sit between my legs.”
I do as he says. We stare at the moon with his arms wrapped around my waist from behind. It’s a clear night, and the stars are out. Will I miss seeing the constellations when I’m in a big city where the lights are so bright I won’t see the stars?
“Trace?”
“Hmm?” He rests his chin on my shoulder.
“Do you and your parents celebrate Christmas?”
“When they’re here.”
“Do they always have to be here for you to celebrate something?”
Then it dawns on me. They weren’t here for Thanksgiving, and Trace donated turkeys to the food bank. They’re not here for Christmas, and Trace paid a lot of money to have the skating rink temporarily set up in the town center for everyone to enjoy.
“The turkey and the skating rink are how you celebrate.” My voice trembles with emotion.
How can he be so selfless? Why can’t he be selfish and ask for what he wants? He does want those things, but there’s no one to enjoy and celebrate with, so instead, he gives to others what he doesn’t have.
I don’t wait for him to speak. The silence is suddenly uncomfortable, and I want to fill it with happy stuff.
“The Grays have this huge Christmas tree with beautiful ornaments on it that they’ve collected over the years from their trips across the US and overseas. The white lights on it look like a million blinking stars. Lights are also strung up on their fireplace mantel and along the windowsills. Mrs. Gray is a great baker. She baked an apple pie from scratch. We had it for dessert with ice cream. Then Rush took me outside and showed me the lights on the house and on the bushes and trees that looked like Christmas trees near their driveway. It was like a winter wonderland of lights. He even turned on a snowmaker machine.” I clasp my hands to my chest and smile big. “Seeing all the lights, feeling the snowflakes on my face, and hearing how Rush and his dad put the lights up while his mom laughed and cheered made me so happy, Trace.”
