After that kiss, I’m going to do just about anything he wants.
Hekissedme.
And there was no discussion of bad first kisses to force his hand. One moment Ashton was being annoying by interfering in my game of Solitaire, and the next moment his lips were on mine.
But shouldn’t there be more? Not more kissing—although I’d be perfectly happy with that—but more ofsomething?
I’m confused, and maybe I shouldn’t be, but I am. And I don’t like feeling like that. “Ashton…” I begin.
He pushes the cards into a pile. “No talking,” he says. “Unless it’s the type of talking that involves you telling me you’re happy that I’m taking you shopping.”
“I am.”
“Or the type of talking that involves you inviting me to go to the dance with me?”
I catch my breath, but Ashton keeps his attention on the cards as he pushes them back into the box. I wasn’t going to the dance.
I decided that days ago, after a difficult therapy session. If I can’t walk properly, then what makes me think that I can dance?
But I’ve never been one to give up
“You really want to go with me?” I ask in a quietvoice.
“Why do you think I’ve been sticking around?” He helps me to my feet. “Go get your coat. I’ve got money to spend.”
I pull back. “You’re not buying me a dress.”
He frowns. “That’s not the usual response that I get.”
“I’m not your usual shopping companion.”
“No, you’re not.”
And from the smile on his face, I think, for the first time, that Ashton might believe that’s a good thing.
Ashton helps me to the elevator because he says we’ll be doing enough walking.
He holds my hand in the car.
I don’t know what to say.
I don’t know what to do other than let my hand rest in his and let his thumb trace patterns on my wrist, which sends shivers up my arms and begins to make simple sentences a challenge.
“I thought we… I thought… you wanted… friends?”
“We are friends. This is—” He looks at our hands, fingers tangled together. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either.”
But I do. I’ve known for a while, but haven’t wanted to admit that what I feel for Ashton is not just friendship. There’s a warm swell in my chest when he’s around, and an ache when he’s not. I like spending time with my friends, but I want to be with Ashton all the time.
I like him. Maybe more than like.
It’s been four weeks of slow, getting to know him. Of finding out layers of Ashton that no one else knows about.
I more than like him.
But I don’t say any of that, because if the kiss was supposed to confirm things, it’s done anything but.
