I rolled my lips together, trying to choose my words so I was lying as little as possible. “Around that time.”
He nodded. “How is he?”
I sighed, almost embarrassed that I had ever thought Austin would make it through the night without asking. “Rehab.”
“Rehab?” Austin repeated, surprised. “Damn. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was that bad. Is he at Jude’s?”
My eyes narrowed at his familiarity with the rehabilitation centre only ten minutes from my house. The one Holden had already been to twice. “No. He’s in Idaho.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, and his hand moved again, the same way it had when he reached for the yellow cupcake earlier.
This time, it landed on mine. His hand rested gently against the back of my own, and until this very moment, I had never understood the comparison people made when they talked about sparks after skin touched skin. I understood it now. It felt like electricity had broken loose inside me, not just where he touched me, but everywhere. My stomach. My chest. My throat. Even my thoughts felt charged.
“It’s okay,” I said, finally forcing my eyes away from where we were connected. “He’s going to be fine. He’s gotten clean before. He’ll get clean again.”
I watched Austin’s face as I spoke, trying to understand the shift in him. His expression had gone distant, like he had stepped somewhere else entirely. His eyes looked blanker than they had all night, and I couldn’t figure out why. I searched his face for answers, studying him like he was a book I had all the time in the world to read. Then my gaze flicked to the clock on the wall behind him. And suddenly, I realized I didn’t.
“Shoot,” I muttered, the word slipping out of me without thought. It seemed to snap Austin back into the moment. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I have to get back.”
“You got a curfew, Yellow?” Austin asked. His expression had returned to the familiar one I’d grown used to in such a short amount of time, amused, like he found something entertaining in everything I did.
“Not really,” I shrugged. “I just don’t like to worry my parents if I don’t need to.”
“Should I be offended that spending time with me isn’t something worth worrying them over?” he asked. Even as the words left his mouth, I knew he didn’t really mean them. “No,” he said before I could answer, shaking his head. “I get it. You’re a good girl, Yellow.”
“You have a problem with that?” I teased, wondering how it was possible that I had smiled almost the entire time I’d spent with him.
“The opposite, actually.” His voice softened. “I like it. I think I like everything about you.” He said the words so casually that it startled me. They didn’t feel casual at all. They landed heavy, settling somewhere deep in my chest.
“I wonder what you’ll think about the things you don’t know yet,” I said quietly.
“That’s the thing,” Austin took a breath. “Even the things I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I already like them. And I don’t even think that makes sense.”
“Well,” I smiled at him, slow and careful, “maybe you’ll get to find out.”
“Whether I’m right?” he asked.
“Whether you like them or not.” Finally, even though my body was screaming at me to stay, I gently wiggled my hand freefrom Austin’s. The absence of his touch was immediate. Colder. I cursed myself for missing it so quickly.
We stood from our chairs almost in perfect sync, mirroring each other without meaning to. As soon as we were upright, Austin’s hand returned to my back like it was pure instinct, and once again, I cursed myself for how right it felt. The sky had gone completely dark by the time we pushed through the bakery doors, another reminder of how thoroughly time had slipped away from us inside. It had been a whirlpool of feelings. Butterflies. Surprise. The kind that makes minutes collapse into seconds.
Austin walked me to my car, unusually quiet beside me. It didn’t bother me. It wasn’t an awkward silence. It was the kind that settles gently around you, so naturally you barely notice it’s there at all. When we reached my car and I went to reach for the door handle, he surprised me. His hand pressed against my back, firm but careful, guiding me to turn toward him. I didn’t resist. If anything, I leaned into it.
I turned too quickly and lost my breath when I realized where I’d landed. Austin had stepped forward at the same moment, closing the distance so that when we stopped, we were pressed together, my torso just barely brushing his. My breath caught as my eyes dropped to his chest before slowly lifting to meet his gaze.
Austin was looking at me in a way he never had before. He wasn’t confident. He wasn’t cocky or amused. He wasn’t any variation of the boy I had come to recognize so quickly. The way he looked at me now was darker, but not in a frightening way. Dark in a way I could feel low in my stomach. Like he was at war with himself, caught between the choice he wanted to make and the one he knew he had to.
“I want to kiss you so fucking badly, Yellow,” he whispered. There was no doubt in his voice. No exaggeration. No performance. He was telling the truth, and it wrapped around me like heat.
“So why don’t you?” The words left me as a breath, barely within my control.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to my mouth for just a fraction of a second before lifting back to my eyes. “You’re worth way too much for our first kiss to be in this dusty parking lot.” Disappointment shot through me, sharp and immediate. There was no denying it. My lips wanted his. My body leaned toward him instinctively, like it already knew what it was missing. “Our first kiss will be the kind they write songs about,” Austin said quietly. “The kind they write season finales about. Our first kiss will be the kind people win Oscars for.”
His voice was low, almost reverent. His hand slid from my back to my waist, and then the other joined it. He held me there, steady and grounding, like he was memorizing the feeling. It felt like forever. It wasn’t. His hands dropped away, and before I could protest, he reached behind me and pulled open my car door. He tilted his head, a silent instruction. I let out a slow breath and sank into the driver’s seat, my body still humming with everything he hadn’t done. I thought he was going to shut the door. He didn’t.
“Trust me, Yellow,” he said softly. “Our first kiss will be the kind that makes you never want to have a first kiss with anyone else.”
8:A
