“No, that’s not—” He shakes his head at me, a rogue smile on his lips. “Would it be that bad to call me your boyfriend?”
Oh no. We are doing this now? While I’m covered in mud and my teeth chatter, just looking at the hose in his hands?
Yes.
No.
I don’t even know what to say as my heart beats far too fast in my chest and my breathing shudders in my lungs. I can feel the adrenaline rush through my veins, and I can taste its bitter flavor on my tongue.
“Birdie,” Arlo prompts with mischievousness that I am not prepared for. Stepping close, he presses me against the side of the shed, uncaring of the mud caked on my clothing. “I asked a question.”
“I don’t know what’s happening right now,” I whisper, my eyes wide with only the whites showing.
I refuse to allow this to become our first kiss.
But oh, it would be memorable.
Muddy. Dirty. Not at all like any other kiss I’ve ever had. This would destroy all kisses that came before, and judging by the way Arlo is looking at me right now, he is entirely all too aware of that fact.
“I’m asking if you calling me your boyfriend would be so bad.” He slowly covers my body with his, propping his arm above us on the shed, his baby blue eyes sparkling as they watch me from above.
“I don’t know,” I answer with honesty. While my body burns with his heat driving away the chill, so many factors contribute to the need my physical body yearns for.
Like a mental connection, which we have. With every new piece of information I learn about Arlo, I want nothing more than to learn more and more until I’m stuffed full with him.
Wait… No. Not like that. Oh no, what have I done?
“What are you thinking about, Birdie?” He ignores my statement, pressing into me, his tall, lean body covering mine and making my breath stutter and my heart palpitate.
All I can think about is us upstairs in the shower…
“I, ah, um. Dirty.” No, abort, abort mission. Stop talking, Wren. Just don’t do it anymore. Say nothing. Nothing more.
But those baby blue eyes of his sparkle with mischief. “Are you mine, Birdie?” He leans down, so close to my lips. Inhaling slowly, he breathes in my essence, stealing my gasp until I can’t speak, rendering my voice useless.
“Arlo.” My eyes dance between his, wanting to give him everything he’s asking of me and so much more.
But something holds me back, an unknown drive that steals this moment and prevents me from enjoying his touch and his promise of love—fear.
Fear that I don’t deserve love because life stole that love from me every single time I felt it.
Fear that I will never live up to his expectations and be the partner he deserves.
Fear that in a few weeks, I will leave him and destroy him completely, and I know, deep down, he deserves so much more than that.
He deserves everything. A partner, a lover, and someone he can call his, and I still don’t know if I can give him that.
Closing his eyes, he drops his head back to peer up at the cloudless blue sky. Yet he doesn’t move his body from mine, though I know he can feel me pulling away from him.
He lowers his head, a smirk stretching across his face.
That is an unexpected smirk, and I don’t know how to handle it. It looks like a trick.
That’s when he does the unexpected. He leans into me, mud caked between our bodies, and he brushes his lips against mine.
Just a brush.
A teasing touch.
