“Yeah?” It’s all I can manage.
She nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah.”
And then I’m kissing her again, more confidently this time. My hand slides to the back of her neck, drawing her closer. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, fingers threading through my hair. The kiss deepens, and I swear I can feel every sequin on her dress pressing into my chest, somehow making this moment more real, more tangible.
When we finally pull apart, both slightly breathless, I rest my forehead against hers. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” I admit. “I just didn’t know it until recently.”
“Me too.” Her confession makes my heart skip. “But I figured you’d never see me that way.”
“Are you kidding?” I pull back just enough to look at her properly. “Chey, you’re ... everything. I’ve just been too much of an idiot to realize what was right in front of me.”
Something shifts in her expression—a flicker of doubt, maybe. “Is this real? Or are we just caught up in the moment? Trapped in an elevator on New Year’s Eve...”
“This is the most real thing I’ve ever felt,” I tell her, holding her gaze so she can see the truth in my eyes. Then I remember—I have proof. “Here, I have something for you.” I reach into my pocket, fumbling a bit as I dig past my wallet and phone. My fingers close around the small metal charm, and I pull it out, holding it in my palm between us.
Cheyenne’s eyes widen, her lips parting in surprise as she recognizes what I’m holding. “My charm,” she breathes, reaching out to touch it hesitantly, like she’s afraid it might disappear. “How did you—? I thought it was lost forever.”
“It fell off when you left my parents’ house on Christmas.” I watch her fingers hover over the tiny silver dog in my palm. “I found it on the couch after you left. I’ve been carrying it with me since, waiting for the right moment to give it back.”
She looks up at me, confusion and something like wonder in her eyes. “You’ve been carrying it around for a week?”
I nod, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Pathetic, right? But I kept hoping I’d run into you, that I could explain about what happened at breakfast, about what I really meant to say.” I close my fingers around the charm, then open them again. “I guess part of me thought as long as I had this, I’d get another chance with you.”
Cheyenne takes the charm, her fingers trembling slightly. The silver catches the dim light as she turns it over, examining the tiny “J” engraved on the collar.
“That’s not pathetic,” she says softly. “That’s...” She trails off, shaking her head like she can’t find the right word.
“I know I screwed up,” I continue, needing her to understand. “When I said we were ‘just friends,’ when I let you walk out of that living room thinking that’s all I wanted ... I was scared. I’ve honestly never felt this way about anyone before, and it terrified me. But I’m not scared anymore.”
Her eyes meet mine again, and the vulnerability I see in them matches my own. Without a word, she leans in and kisses me, the charm still clutched in her hand. This kiss is different—less hesitant, more certain. She presses closer, her free hand sliding up my chest to rest over my heart.
I respond immediately, one arm circling her waist to pull her against me. We shift on the elevator floor until her back is against the wall, my body angled over hers. The kiss deepens, her lips parting under mine, and I groan softly at the taste of her—gin and tonic and something sweeter underneath that’s uniquely Cheyenne.
My hand finds the bare skin of her shoulder, tracing down her arm and back up. Her dress, which looked incredible from across the rooftop, feels even better under my fingertips—smooth and textured all at once. She arches slightly into my touch, and I can feel her smile against my lips.
“What?” I murmur, pulling back just enough to see her face.
“Nothing.” She shakes her head, still smiling. “It’s just ... if someone had told me this morning I’d be making out with Dylan Williamston in an elevator, I would’ve told them they were crazy.”
“Making out, huh?” I grin, nudging her nose with mine. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“Well, we were until you started talking.” Her fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck in a way that makes it hard to think straight.
“Fair point.” I press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Would you like to continue?”
Her answer comes in the form of her hands pulling me closer, her lips finding mine again with newfound confidence. I lose myself in the kiss, in the feeling of her against me, in the relief of finally, finally being honest about what I want.
What I want is her. Has been for longer than I realized.
My hand slides down her side, following the curve of her waist to her hip, while her fingers roam across my back, nails dragging lightly through my shirt. The kiss grows more heated, months of tension and longing unraveling between us. I can feel her heart racing against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
“Dylan,” she breathes against my lips, the sound of my name in that tone sending heat rushing through me.
I pull back slightly, making sure I’m not pushing too far, too fast. But the look in her eyes tells me she’s right here with me, as caught up in this moment as I am. I brush a strand of hair from her face, marveling at how something so simple can feel so intimate.
“You are so beautiful,” I tell her, meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life. “In this dress, in sweatpants, in anything.”
She laughs softly, color rising in her cheeks. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
