“Okay. Okay.” He nods like his head’s on a spring. “Got it.”
Then he just sits there. Staring at me.
Guess it’s up to me.
I scoot closer and rest my hands on his shoulders. They tremble, just slightly, which sparks a strange softness in my chest, followed by anxiety.
What am I doing? This is Beck. My Beck. This is stupid. A huge mistake.
I push those thoughts aside.
Slowly, I rise up off the table and bring my lips to his. I watch long enough to see it, the exact moment his eyes close. I watch him lean in, feel him bend toward me, lowering his head to meet mine.
We kiss.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens. His mouth is warm and hesitant at first, barely there, as if he’s afraid to do it wrong.
I adjust without thinking. Tilt my head. Press a little closer.
The change is instant.
Something in him softens, then deepens, and suddenly he’s kissing me back, not clumsy, not uncertain, but careful in the way someone is when it matters. His lips move against mine slowly, then more firmly, quicker, unraveling like he’s surrendering to something he’s been holding back for years.
My breath catches.
Heat blooms low and bright in my chest, spreading everywhere at once. This isn’t fireworks or sparks or anything sharp. It’s steadier than that. Fuller. Like slipping into a warm bath and realizing you’ve been cold your whole life.
My hands curl in the fabric at his shoulders, anchoring myself, because the world has gone very quiet. The field. The school. Everything disappears except this, Beck’s mouth on mine, the way he leans in like he belongs here,the way my heart stumbles and then settles, like it’s finally found the right rhythm.
When we pull apart, it’s only because we have to breathe.
I stay close, foreheads nearly touching, my pulse still racing, my lips tingling, and I think,
Oh.
So that’s how it’s supposed to feel.
“Well,” he whispers against my lips, “was it…was I…okay?”
“Hmm?” I murmur, still floating, still lost in the warmth of him, the night, the magic.
“I mean,” he clears his throat softly and asks, “did I do it right?”
Reality rushes back in all at once. Cold and sharp. A fist to my face.
Because suddenly I remember this kiss wasn’t justakiss. It was practice.
For Esther.
For later tonight.
For “maybe more.”
That lands heavy in my chest, souring the sweetness just enough to hurt.
I lean back, take a breath in and let it out.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile that feels steadier than I am. “You were fine.”
