We headed to his car, his steps buoyant as he kept my hand firmly clasped into his. “Thanks for the nice talk,” he said, unlocking the car.
I let go of his hand, reluctantly, and smiled. “You’re welcome?”
He opened my door, and when I slid into the seat, he leaned over, his arm draped on top of the door. “I just want to know everything about you.” Astonished, I didn’t answer, and he closed the door before I could react.
When Hamlet pulled up to the front of my apartment building, I hesitated in my seat, wondering if we should hug orsomething. But he put the car in Park and walked over to my side, opening the door. The little things.
“Thanks.” We walked across the crunchy lawn, past the jasmine hedge. I could smell the fragrant jasmine blooms as we climbed up the stairs.
We reached my door, and I paused, the bag of leftovers bonking my leg. “Thanks for the ride and letting me meet your grandparents.”
The corners of his eyes did that crinkly thing as he smiled. “Yeah, that’s a rare privilege for only the most special of dates.” His hands were in his pockets again. Everything about him right now was shy and unsure.
But I was sure about one thing. I wanted Hamlet Wong to kiss me.
“Have a good night, Clara.” His voice was quiet. Low and sweet and real.
I glanced up from his hands to his face. That expressive, open face. “Good night,” I replied.
He took a step backward but kept looking at me expectantly, as if he was waiting for me to go inside.
So I dropped the bag of food, took a step forward, and tugged him by his shirt until our hips bumped. “I want to kiss you. Is that okay?” I asked, my face tilted up toward his.
His eyes widened and his lips parted slightly. Then he placed a warm hand on my waist. “Okay,” he murmured.
I got up on my tippy-toes to reach his lips, and brushed them over his. My eyes closed, I took in the scent of him—grass jelly.His lips were soft, but they were quick to meet mine. He drew me in closer until our bodies were pressed against each other, one of my hands still clutching his shirt, the other wrapped around his neck, curled into his hair.
When we pulled apart, the blood rushed from my head into my toes.
Hamlet looked stunned. And adorable—his hair mussed and shirt wrinkled.
“Good night, for reals,” I said as I grabbed the leftovers bag and unlocked my door.
I caught a glimpse of his face before I closed the door. Pink cheeks and a huge smile. “Good night!” he shouted.
“Oh my God!” I closed the door with a smile. It stayed on my face until I fell asleep that night.
CHAPTER 19
A persistent knocking woke me up the next morning.
“What?”I yelled from under my blanket.
“I’m coming in!” my dad said before opening the door a crack. “Are you decent?”
“No, I’m in my lace negligee,” I muttered. “Since when do you care if I’m ‘decent’?”
My dad stepped inside. “I don’t know, you were on a date last night so…”
I moved the blanket off my face. “Are you implying that Hamlet might haveslept over?”
He shrugged as he leaned against the doorway.
“Okay, I’m notyouin high school, so…” I sputtered.
“Burn, Shorty,” he said with a laugh. “So, how was it?”
“Pai. Seriously?”
