“Mhm. Soulmates,” he says and takes a giant bite of his corn dog.
Wes and I look at him in surprise, but Quinn simply shrugs. “He’s a man of few words, sure, but he always says the right ones.”
We stay a bit longer and then say our goodbyes, heading to Wes’s car with our ears ringing from the noisy rink. We drive for a while in comfortable silence before I turn lazily to face him, studying his features in the dim light. The dark eyelashes fanning over his cheek with every blink. The strong jaw shadowed with the barest hint of stubble. The full mouth, upturned as he hums quietly along with whatever’s on the radio. I doubt he even realizes he’s doing it, which makes it even more endearing.
When the car rolls to a stop in front of my building, I’m still admiring him. Still marveling. And so when he shifts the car into park and looks over at me with his whole heart exposed, I’m unprepared.
Because I see them there, his feelings, written across his face in the most vulnerable, beautiful ink, and my own heart expands in response, filling up my chest. I don’t think when I lean across the car and press my mouth to his. It’s pure instinct. And when he cradles my face with both hands and kisses me back, the world around us stills.
The kiss is slow. Languid. Dreamy. I drown in his citrusy scent and bask in the warmth of his lips, tilting my head to deepen our connection. Wes makes a low noise, one that has my pulse fluttering like a hummingbird and my blood rushing through my veins. He tangles his tongue with mine in a way that makes me whimper.
I lose track of time as we kiss, exploring, immersing, indulging in each other like seconds are hours and moments never fade. I lean into his touch, sink into his embrace, and find myself craving more of him. I want his hands on my body, not just my face. I want his mouth on my skin, not just my lips. I want to crawl onto his lap, intertwine our souls, and put my heart in his hands once and for all.
And maybe I’m crazy for that.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathless, he still doesn’t release me. He twines his fingers in my hair and lightly massages my scalp, pressing his forehead against mine as we both catch our breath.
“I want to do that all the time,” he murmurs.
“Me, too,” I whisper. Because I do.
And though it’s late, I don’t want to leave this car. I don’t want to leavehim.Not now. Not ever.
“I had fun tonight,” I breathe, afraid of breaking this moment by speaking too loudly.
“So did I,” he says, also keeping his voice quiet. “The best time, actually. Nothing else compares.”
I level him with a look. “Nothing? Not graduating high school or getting into college or scoring that crazy touchdown everyone’s obsessed with?”
He grins, eyes sparkling, and laughs a little. “Nope.”
“Uh huh. I find that hard to believe.”
“Why? My life’s better with you in it. There’s no competition.”
I’m stunned to silence, and he takes that as an opportunity to lean forward and give me a chaste kiss on the lips. I make a noise of protest when he pulls away too quickly, and he beams like I just gifted him the best present in the world.
“Normally I would charm my way inside your apartment,” he begins, and my emotions wrestle between disappointmentand relief as I wait for him to continue, “but we’re due for the godforsaken eight a.m. in less than nine hours, and I haven’t done the homework yet.”
My brows hike up. “Wes! You haven’t?”
His smile turns sheepish. “It’s fine, Ives. I’ll do it when I get back.”
“Okay, well, text me if you need help.”
“I’ll text you even if I don’t.”
I grin at that. I can’t help it. He kisses me one more time before I step out into the crisp night air, marveling at the turn this night has taken. I stepped into the rink miserable, but left the place glowing, and Wes had everything to do with that. Sure, my insecurities didn’t magically vanish, but they feel a bit more manageable now that I know Wes missed me as much as I missed him.
You bought yourself some time, at least,says that cynical voice in my head, but I won’t let it ruin this moment.
When his car drives away, I’m still smiling.
TWENTY-FIVE
I floatthrough the rest of the week, feeling lighter than I have in a while and hopeful that maybe this thing between Wes and meisreal. Maybe itispossible. I’ll still cradle it with the utmost caution and care, but for once, my hands are stable, and I’m not as worried about breaking it as I was before. I’m not as terrified of my own demons as I usually am. Could that mean I’m stronger than I think?
I wouldn’t get ahead of yourself, warns my subconscious.
