“And what do you want to be, Sylvie?”
That is a good question. A damn good question. A question I still don’t have the answer to. “I don’t know yet.”
He nods as if he understands my dilemma. “So your best friend is a guy? Should I be worried?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
My heart surges with relief. “Linc and I are just friends.”
“You wish it were more though?”
My stomach dips with nervousness. “What?”
“I can see it on your face. You want to be more than friends.” I shrug, not wanting to have this conversation with him. “Want to know my opinion?” I don’t respond, but he continues on anyway. “He’s fucking crazy. If I were him, I would have made you mine a long time ago. And I’m kind of glad he’s a blind idiot, because then maybe I have a shot after all.”
My mind spins while my heart pounds against my chest. The knot in my throat is tight and it’s hard to swallow past it as I turn down the dirt road that leads to the tracks.
When we pull to a stop, I let the engine run. It’s already ten forty-five. I have to be home by midnight. We can’t stay long. My sweaty palms grip the steering wheel while blood rushes to my ears, anxious to know what will happen next.
The alternative rock station we’re listening to switches songs and “All I Need” by Radiohead pours from the speakers, the dark sound setting the tone as he catches my eye, turning it up.
“Love this song,” he says.
“It’s one of my favorites, too.”
He continues to smoke his cigarette casually and damn it all to hell if he doesn’t look hot doing it. Then he swings his eyes to mine once more as the dark lyrics fill the space between us, his gaze bringing me down to a level of need I don’t understand.
But the need is not within me.
It’s in him.
With a sense of resolve, he drops out of the truck and rounds the front, flicking what is left of his cigarette into the night before opening my door.
Reaching for my hand, he pulls me out. “Dance with me.”
“Here?”
“Yeah…here.”
There, on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, with nothing more than the low beam headlights guiding our way, we dance. His arms wrap around me and so does his scent, intoxicating and new.
Different.
He pulls me closer, our cheeks touching, breaths meeting warm skin while my heart races in my chest. I want him to kiss me. He’s probably kissed tons of girls, good-looking as he is.
Girls who know how to kiss.
Girls who know how to do lots of things I don’t.
He is a man, after all. And I’ve never kissed a man before. I’ve only kissed two boys and their sloppy tongues and groping hands were nothing to write home about.
His fingers press into my lower back before his warm mouth whispers in my ear and my body tingles.
