I drag my eyes back to her face. “I totally wasn’t planning that, I swear.” My voice is a little unsteady.
“Me neither. But I’m not mad about it.”
There’s another beat of silence before I find myself leaning forward again to press a softer kiss to her lips. Like, I literally can’t help myself.
“I should probably go inside before my dad comes out to see what’s taking me so long.” No doubt the location app has announced my arrival.
“Good idea,” she agrees as I open the door and step out, my movements slow. Once I’m around the hood of the car and out of her line of vision, I pause to adjust myself so what I’ve been doing isn’t obvious when I walk through the door.
I walk to the driver’s side and rest my arms on the edge of her rolled-down window, giving her one last kiss.
“G’night, Harper.”
“Night.” She pauses. “Easton.”
I limp to the garage door keypad and poke in the code, turning to watch Harper as she watches me, coach lights illuminating her cute face. The big door gradually opens and I give her one last wave before ducking beneath it and disappearing inside.
Chapter 18
Harper
I touch a finger to my sensitive lips and sigh.
My first kiss.
Well. That’s not true—last year I let Colton Davis kiss me under the bleachers during a football game out of sheer curiosity, but it was nothing like the kiss Easton gave me tonight. It was nowhere near as magical. Nowhere near as hot and sexy.
Fine. Perhaps sexy is a bit of a stretch. It’s not as if we knew what we were doing, and he seemed as clumsy as I was.
So basically the kiss was perfect.
And with prom looming—that means my promposal should be looming, too, right? I mean, how can it not be, especially after tonight?
I hunker down in my covers, scrolling through my phone, and call Macy to give her the evening’s recap. We already discussed why I left the theater abruptly, but I haven’t told her the rest…
The good stuff.
“Spill,” she says immediately by way of greeting.
“Guess.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just tell me. My brain isn’t functioning properly.”
Well, this is no fun. I love a good guessing game. But still…“He kissed me.”
My best friend responds exactly the way I expect her to: with wide eyes and a loud squeal. “Shut. The. Hell. UP!”
I give my head a shake, happy to be the bearer of this great news. “Oh my god, it was…” I let out a wistful sigh. “So good.”
“Describe,” Macy demands. “In detail. Was it soft? Rough? Did he use his hands? Where were his hands?” She gasps. “Wait—was theretongue?”
Heat floods my face. “Macy.”
“Was there? Tell me! I need to know if this was some chaste middle-school peck or a full-on, toe-curling, knee-melting, take-me-now kind of kiss.”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from freaking out. “Let’s just say my entire body was tingling.”
She throws herself back on the bed and I get a clear shot of her ceiling. It’s still full of star stickers—we put them there when we were kids after her gran bought a pack.
