I nod, my head still in my hand, my elbow still holding me up, my wrist aching with how long it’s been, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want to look away from Callum Whitaker. He’s teaching me to pay attention, and that’s all I want to do. Pay attention to him.
“That, and my lack of practice.” I gulp. I have kissed a few guys. Not many—a few. And the truth is, Callum is the only man I’ve ever wanted to kiss again. And again.
And again.
Rosalie told me to say it. But that feels daunting and scary.Thisfeels like a game.
Callum’s brows lift. “I am here to help.”
We mirror one another in our posture. On his side, Callum leans an inch or two closer to me. “See?” he says, and for a quarter of a second, his eyes fall to my lips before meeting mine once more. “Just a small lean. But I’m attempting to get closer to you.”
“Closer,” I say because I am a great student.
“I might make up an excuse to touch you,” he says, reaching out for my hand laying straight down my side. He entwines his fingers with mine and, with the action, leans ever closer.
“Touch,” I say like a broken robot who can only mutter one word at a time.
“I’d probably let my gaze fall to your lips—” And he does. “And if you return these gestures?—”
“Lean, touch, look,” I say, broken robot crisis averted—that was three whole words.
“Then if I decided you’d given consent, I’d either move the rest of the way in or wait for you to.”
Consent—my floppy fish wiggles with the word.
I swallow. “Lean,” I say, and he follows me as if it were a command. “Touch.” His hand tangled in mine squeezes my fingers—that fish is alive and well and dancing on the bank. “Look,” I say as my eyes fall to Callum’s mouth.
“Consent,” he says, just as the music in our movie swells.
I’m pretty sure Lizzie Bennet herself just gave me consent. And Callum is so close. So, I move—for practice’s sake.
With his lips a hair’s breadth from mine and his warm breath on my skin, I close the extremely annoying gap between us. I lean my body until it’s a fallen domino against Callum’s and press my lips to his.
He goes still beneath my touch—but only for one measly, surprised second. Just one, and then his hand in mine slips around my back as he hugs me next to him. His lips tease mine open, and the mint on this tongue and breath filter over my tastebuds. I shift my hand to his hair, tangling my fingers in their tresses and holding him next to me.
The air thickens with heat. The beached fish living in my gut is the happiest camper in all the world.
Callum’s hand presses into my back as he coaxes my lips to do his bidding. I am a willing sacrifice. My skin sparks wherever he touches—lips, nose, hands. Even the sliver at my back where pants meet shirt. This kiss speaks of so much more than friendship.
In fact, it might declare that it’s setting the refrigerator and all of Callum’s romance notions on fire.
Both are officially toast.
Thirty-Seven
“‘You have bewitched me,body and soul…’” The words on the screen filter into my ears, slamming into me. I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here, kissing Fran, her body flush with mine, feeling all of the things I was so sure I didn’t need in my life.
How long is this movie?
I started kissing her, and time might have stopped.
I pull away at the jolt of that line she made me quote. I’ve lost myself again.
I’m such a jerk. I’m supposed to be helping her. And I’ve told her I’m not looking for a relationship—not now, possibly not ever. But then, she asks one little question, and I end up kissing the girl. It’s like I lose my head and control and all reason when Fran is too close to me. And I can’t seem to stay away from her. You think the solution here would be easy… and yet, it’s not.
I clear my throat and say, “And that’s how you’ll know.” Another clearing. “Those are the clues.” I swallow, mynerves on edge like an anxious energizer bunny. “Just an FYI.”
“Just an FYI,” she whispers.
