"Because I was scared. Because I didn't know if you felt the same way. Because I thought maybe I was reading things wrong, seeing things that weren't there." I pull back just enough to look at him, to see his face. "Because I couldn't risk losing you again. Not after everything. I couldn't risk ruining this with you. Why didn't you kiss me or say something?"
"Same reasons," he says, and lets out a shaky laugh. "God, we're idiots. We're both idiots."
"Yeah," I agree, and I can't help smiling. "We really are."
I kiss him again, softer this time. A gentle press of lips, a promise instead of a question. He melts into it, his hands sliding up my arms to my shoulders to my neck, cradling my face like I'm something worth holding.
"Oh, god. I really do have to go," he murmurs against my mouth, but he doesn't pull away, doesn't stop kissing me. "This is so hard to leave you."
"I know," I murmur back, kissing him again, unable to stop.
"Rosalyn will worry. She'll call non-stop. She'll probably send Mitchell to look for me if I don't show up."
"I understand. They care about you."
"But I'll be back." He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes serious and intense. "Next weekend. I'll be here if that's okay. Friday night after work. I've got to come back."
"Hell yeah, it's okay." I kiss his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, unable to stop touching him now that I've started. "I want to see you as soon as you can get here."
Ivan pulls back reluctantly, and this time I let him. I step aside so he can climb into the truck, can start the engine. But I don't go inside. I stand there in the parking lot and watch as he reverses out of the space, as he turns toward the exit.
He rolls down the window, sticks his head out.
"Text me," he shouts, the words carrying across the parking lot. "Don't you dare go dark on me. I need to know you're okay."
"I will. I promise."
"I mean it, Jay. Every day. I need to hear from you."
"I'll text you. I promise. Every single day. You'll get sick of me in no time."
He gives me that smile, and something in my chest finally unclenches, finally allows itself to hope.
This isn't an ending.
This is only a beginning.
I watch until the truck disappears around the corner and I can't see it anymore. Then I stand there a little longer, touching my lips with my fingertips, remembering the feel of his mouth on mine. The taste of him. The sound he made when I deepened the kiss.
He kissed me. Ivan kissed me.
And I kissed him back.
I walk back to my room in a daze, feeling like I'm floating, like my feet aren't quite touching the ground. The space feels different now—still small, still shabby, still a motel room that rents by the week. But not empty. Not anymore. I can still smell him on the pillow. I can still see the indent where his body was beside mine. I can still feel the ghost of his lips on mine.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Sitting at a traffic light. Already miss you.
I save his contact—just "Ivan" with a blue heart emoji that I immediately feel stupid about but don't delete—then type back:Miss you too. Drive safe.
Three dots appear immediately.This changes everything, doesn't it?
I look at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Then I type back:Yeah. It does. Everything.
His response comes quickly:Good. I want everything to change. I want everything with you.
I'm smiling. I'm sitting alone in a motel room that smells like motor oil and cheap pizza, staring at my cracked phone screen, and I'm smiling like an idiot because a beautiful man just kissed me in a parking lot and drove away promising to come back.
