“Was it?”
“What were you paying attention to?”
I didn't answer. Didn't have to. The way I was looking at him probably said enough.
Jamie laughed, that sunshine smile lighting up the dark, and chest cracked open little wider.
We stayed like that, him tucked against my side, me looking down at him, the credits scrolling. The theater was emptying, the lights coming up slowly.
“We should go,” I said.
“Probably.”
Neither of us moved.
His hand was still on my chest. I could feel my own heartbeat under his palm, faster than I wanted to admit.
“Holden.” His voice was soft.
I froze in place, waiting for his question. Would it be the same as mine?
What are we doing?
Is this still just an act?
Do you want more?
Even if it was just an act, I wasn't strong enough to turn down what was being offered to me.
Finally, he patted my chest. “Let's go, Big Guy.”
We walked out into the cold, and the night air hit like a wall, January sharp, the kind of cold that made your lungs ache. Jamie tucked into my side like a puzzle piece finding its place.
We started toward Main Street, the silence between us charged with tension, something building that neither of us had named yet. We weren't kids and we knew what was happening, even if we hadn't said the words.
Our footsteps echoed on the sidewalk. The streetlights cast pools of yellow on the pavement.
Jamie stopped walking.
He stood in the space between streetlights, breath pluming white, hands in his pockets. Even in the dim light, I could see the brightness in his eyes.
He went up on his tiptoes and kissed me.
No warning. No audience. No excuse.
His mouth was warm against the cold, soft and certain, and for a moment I was frozen, standing on a sidewalk on Main Street with Jamie Redford's lips on mine.
Then my hands moved.
One cupped his jaw, angling his head back. The other found his waist, pulling him closer. I bent down, all the way down, and kissed him back.
He reached for me, pulling my face down. Made a strangled sound against my lips that went straight to the base of my spine.
“Jamie,” I murmured when I pulled back. My voice came out rough.
“Yeah?”
He must have read the question in my eyes, because he answered, “Because I wanted to.” His hand stroked the side of my face, his thumb tracing along my jaw. His eyes were bright in the dim light. “Is that okay? That I wanted to?”
