Then she presses closer, and every reason I’ve had for keeping my distance dissolves.
I cradle her face, tilting to deepen the kiss. She grabs my shirt, pulling me closer, and the city noise fades. The cold disappears. There's just Holly, kissing me like she's been thinking about it as long as I have.
When we break apart to catch our breath, I can’t stop staring at her mouth.
“That was—” she starts.
“Not enough,” I finish.
Her hands are still twisted in my shirt. My hands are still cradling her face.
“We should stop,” she says.
“Why?”
“Because—” She pauses. “I can't think of a reason.”
“Good.” But I don't kiss her again yet. “Holly, are you sure? Because if we do this?—”
“Everything changes, I know.”
“Everything’s already changed. You’ve been driving me insane for weeks.”
“Just weeks?”
“Since the beginning.”
Her eyes search mine. I’m not sure if she believes me.
“You bite your lip when you’re concentrating. Right here.” I brush the spot with my thumb. “You touch your collarbone when you’re nervous. You get this tiny crease right here”—I touch a fingertip between her eyebrows—”when someone’s being difficult but you’re too polite to say so.”
“You noticed that?”
“I notice everything about you.”
She releases her grip on my shirt and wraps her arms around me in a warm hug. We stand in the embrace.
“I wanted to kiss you all last weekend,” I say. “I kept watching you—so in your element, so certain about what you wanted. I was aching to be part of what you wanted.”
“Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”
“We had rules. An arrangement.” I tighten my arms around her. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to break them.”
“I did. I do.” She squeezes me back.
I lean down, press my lips to her hair.
“We're in so much trouble,” she says.
“I know.”
“I mean it. This is—we're going to?—”
“Holly.” I pull her closer still. “I know.”
The city sprawls below us, oblivious. Inside, the gala continues without us.
“We should go back,” she says without any conviction.
