He looks at the house and says, “Your friends are probably wondering where you are.”
I glance back at the house. “Probably.”
“Do you want to go back in?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
“Me neither.” He grabs my hand. “Come on.”
I let him pull me across the street as I whip up a quick text to Marina. She’ll understand.
Dylan opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in. The truck smells like him, so I sit and breathe it in while he walks around the hood. I’ve missed this. He gets in on the driver’s side and starts the engine. He pulls out onto the street, and I watch in my peripheral vision how often he looks over at me. He reaches his hand over and relaxes it against my thigh. My heart races, thinking about what we’re about to do.
“My place?”
He looks over and nods.
At the first red light we catch, I pull off my seatbelt and lean across the center console, crashing my mouth into his. It’s messy and desperate and everything I’ve been holding back. He’s already kissing me, like he knew I would do this.
He groans softly and pulls away first, his forehead resting against mine.
“Ce,” he murmurs, breath uneven. “Do I need to pull over on the side of the road?”
I giggle thinking about the first night we had together. I squeeze my legs together, remembering all too clearly.
The light turns green, so he starts driving, one hand on the wheel, the other still resting on my thigh. The silence settles between us, but it’s not heavy this time. It’s comfortable.
When we pull into my apartment’s guest parking stall, he shuts off the engine and turns to face me.
“Just so we’re clear,” he says. “I’m not doing this halfway. I’m all in. I’m not walking away again.”
I nod.
He grabs my face. “If you said no, I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself.”
I run my fingers down his cheek. “I could never say no to you.”
He smiles, leaning in. He pecks my lips over and over. I let his lips trail across my cheek and down my neck.
His hands grip my knees where my skirt ends. I grab him and smile. “Let’s get upstairs.”
31
Dylan
Inside her apartment, she walks to the fridge, pours two glasses of water, and sets out a tray of strawberries.
I stare at her side profile as she rinses the strawberries.
I whisper, “I’m in love with you.”
She stops and turns. “What?”
I chuckle, unable to believe myself right now. Her shock is so sincere and fucking adorable. I’ve never said those words before. “Since the moment I saw you, I’ve been hooked.”
“Hooked?” she asks, surprised. She walks over with the bowl of strawberries and takes a bite. I watch her lips accommodate the size.
I lean over the counter and reach for her. Her warmth grounds me. “Obsessed, infatuated, in love.”
