My hands are slow to work, but I manage to look away from him long enough to pull my phone from my pocket. It’s not a notification from Torin, though. It’s from the girl I’m supposed to be meeting. Did Torin somehow get her number and… force her to leave so he could be here instead? How did that even happen?
I click on it and find a picture of me. I’m wearing just what I am now… Wait. Is that right now? That’s the picture Torin just took of me, right?
As I’m staring at my screen, another message appears.
7493
My name is Torin Jonah. I’m the mascot for the L.A. Golden Tides. Hi
My breath whooshes out of me as I stare. How is he even doing this?
Picking my head up, I meet Torin’s eyes. He looks terrified. My chest tightens at that look because it’s directed at me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says quietly. “I accidentally texted you that first time when I didn’t mean to but… you texted back. And I thought that maybe… maybe we could be friends. Then you askedmeto hang out and I just… I didn’t want to lose that. I was scared. I’m sorry I lied to you. Please don’t hate me.”
Wait a minute… Torin is the girl I’ve been texting with? My eyes scan down his body, all on their own. I’ve felt his body. I’ve felt his dick. Hell, I’ve seen his body naked. Torin isnota girl. Why did he tell me…
He didn’tactuallytell me he was a girl in the texts, did he? I glance down at my phone again, trying to remember back to the beginning. He didn’t. He never once used pronouns for himself. Why would he really, unless you’re talking about yourself in third person and that’s plain weird. I just assumed he was a girl!
“Hugo?”
My eyes snap back to his. He looks like he’s going to cry.
“Please say something.” His voice is shaking, and so quiet I can barely make out his words.
After locking my phone, I slip it into my pocket as I slide into the booth beside him. There’s no plan as I crowd in on Torin. None at all as I take his face in my hands and do what I’ve been dying to do for weeks now.
I press my lips to his.
Chapter Eighteen
TORIN
I thinkmy brain has short circuited. Is Hugo… kissing me?
I’ve died, haven’t I? This isn’t real. Since only in my dreams has Hugo ever kissed me, I’m confident this is fake. He doesn’t even like guys!
Because I think I’m seriously delusional here, I lean back, pulling my mouth from Hugo’s and stare at him. Maybe he’s still confused. Maybe he didn’t hear what I said. Maybe…
“Can I kiss you?” he asks.
My breath catches. It’s really him. Hugo is really here. I nod, unsure what else to do as my entire body heats up. Holy hell, he’s really here! He really asked to kiss me.
As soon as his mouth is on mine again, my eyes close. If this is my imagination, I don’t want to be brought back to reality. This time when Hugo’s mouth touches mine, it’s less of a question and more of a statement. His hand moves to the back of my neck, cupping the base of my head. He angles my face just how he wants me and kisses me for real.
His tongue moves into my mouth. With it, he steals my will to live. I try desperately not to groan or whimper. I desperately try not to grip his shirt like the anxious mess I am right now, while I silently beg all the gods who have ever been prayed to that this is real.
In the distance, I hear glass clink. There’s the sound of a platebeing set down and the aroma of melted cheese and marinara sauce drifts to me. Filling my lungs. Fighting to replace everything that is Hugo.
I don’t let it. I’ve wanted Hugo since I first saw him. His radiant smile. His kindness. How sweet and thoughtful he is.
And, you know, the shape of what’s promised in his pants. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t definitely interested in that, too.
A clatter makes us both jolt and Hugo shifts back a few inches, his mouth leaving mine. He blinks and for a minute, I think he’s confused. The thought that maybe he’ll realize what the hell he’s doing and freak out rushes through my head, making me dizzy. Tears threaten to fall.
Hugo looks around, slowly gaining his bearings. There are two wine glasses on the table now, both with wine in them. There’s also a plate of arancini that was just delivered.
He turns back to me and I nearlydocry when he smiles. “You’re the girl I’ve been texting,” he teases.
