Dad just tore the number plate off our front door. He’s muttering something about a reno we have no budget for.
I don’t buy it; it’s sketchy, but I couldn’t care less with Elise here.
She stretches happily on my twin-sized bed and points to the words she wants me to read.
“How do you focus with that racket?” I grumble, staring at the letters swimming in front of me. I’ve practiced so much, but I’m still far behind.
The damn glare on the page. Why is reading so hard?
“I’m tired.” Closing my eyes, shame curls inside me and heats my face.
Why would a girl like her waste her time on someone like me? Penniless, with no future.
Soft lips brush my cheek, and my groin flares to life. My eyes snap open, finding her dove-gray gaze, framed by long lashes, dipping to my lips then back.
My chest burns.
“How about this?” she whispers, the scent of her roses filling my lungs. I can survive on her scent alone. “We try one more thing, and if you do it right, I’ll let you kiss me.”
My heart stutters.
“Yeah?” My voice is hoarse.
I’ve been dying to kiss her ever since I told her I loved her a few weeks ago.
She nods.
She points to the page again, and this time, she slides a transparent pale-blue plastic sheet over it. “Try again.”
The glare softens. The words still.
“Better? I’ve read that could help.”
I swallow, a glimmer of something gathering in my gut, then rushing up my chest. Pride.
“They’ve stopped swimming, the letters.” I place my finger on the page.
“When the Dark Learned Her Name: A Tale of Hades and Persephone,” I slowly read. It’s working. The words are staying. “Your favorite story.”
“You did it!” She grins, sets down my book, and climbs onto my lap.
My heart batters against my rib cage. My lungs forget how to breathe.
Slowly, Elise trails her fingers along my jaw, my face. Her thick brown hair falls like a curtain, hiding a shy smile. She leans in and hovers before me.
I close the last inch between us.
My fingers tangle in her hair, the lush strands wrapping around my heart, my mind, her scent of roses forever ingrained into my soul.
Maybe this is when my soul became hers.
I taste her. Her sweetness. Her beauty.
I vow never to kiss anyone else for as long as I live.
My lips tingle as the present rushes back.
Her happy sigh draws my attention back to the screen. She plops onto the navy blue chaise lounge in the corner by the main arched window. It’s her favorite spot. Time and time again, I find her asleep there, waking in shock because someone covered her with a blanket. She cracks open the spine ofWhen the Dark Learned Her Name. It’s a first edition, hand-signed by the author.
