My forehead.
Girl…
He held them there for a breath or two. His hand came up to cup the side of my face so carefully, like I was something he was terrified of breaking. His thumb brushed my cheekbone once, a barely-there stroke that somehow short-circuited every single nerve ending I possessed.
When he pulled back, he didn't go far.
His forehead dropped to rest against mine, his eyes closed, his breath warm against my cold skin.
"I'm glad we talked," he said quietly.
I could not have formed a single word if my life depended on it. I was pretty sure I had stopped existing as a functioning person.
After a long moment he straightened, clearing his throat softly. He stood and offered me his hand to help me up from the bench, and I took it, and tried not to notice how perfectly my hand fit inside his.
We walked back to the library parking lot in silence. It was a different kind of silence than before, some how it was softer. When we reached my car, he stood there while I found my keys, his hands back in his pockets, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite name.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked. "At the bakery?"
"Of course," I said, and my voice only came out slightly breathless.
He smiled and it was small and warm and a little sad around the edges.
"Good," he said.
He stood there a beat longer, like he was working up to something else. Then he stepped back, giving me space to get into my car.
"Good night, Amara."
"Good night," I managed.
I drove home in a daze. My forehead was still warm where his lips had been. My cheek seemed to tingle where his thumb had brushed against it. I turned the heat up all the way even though I wasn’t cold at all.
Later on, I curled up in my apartment with a book I couldn't read a single word of, I replayed it on a loop. The way his eyes had dropped to my mouth.
The way I had tilted my chin up like an absolute fool…
You thought he was gonna kiss you,I shook my head.
The way he had chosen my forehead instead and somehow that had been more intimate than anything I'd ever experienced in my entire life.
No matter what happens at the gala.
No matter what you see or hear.
What did that even mean?
I pressed my fingers lightly against my forehead and stared at the ceiling. One week until the Valentine gala. One week until whatever Kael wasn't telling me came to light. One week until I had to face being around Lila and Colin and my mother's expectations.
My stomach gave a little lurched but I sucked in a breath and quickly pushed it away.
Right now, in this moment, all I want to really think about was warm sugar and smoky vanilla and the soft press of lips against my skin.
Karl had no idea, but he had ruined me for any other man and he hadn’t even kissed me yet.
8
KAEL
