Linc chuckles. “One minute she was talkin’ my ear off and the next she was out.”
“We should go,” I tell him, standing up.
“Why don’t you let her stay the night? You can come pick her up tomorrow afternoon,” Gwynn offers.
“I don’t know. We haven’t been apart since…”
Gwynn reaches for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let her stay. She’ll be fine. We have a lot of time to make up for.”
I look over at Linc who’s looking right back at me with the same purpose that beats inside of my chest.
Indeed, we do.
Present
After we get back from Gwynn’s we settle on the living room couch. Me with a bottle of wine and Linc with his Lumberjacks. We spend hours talking. Sharing memory after memory until we gorge ourselves on the past. There’s something to be said about someone who knows everything about you. All of your embarrassing moments, your dark secrets, every undeniable truth.
The tension crackling between us is so potent I think I might burst into flames, seduced by every smile and word that falls from his lips.
“Remember when we were fifteen and we rolled Mr. Whitehead’s yard with toilet paper.” Linc chuckles, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.
“He was so pissed when he walked outside.”
“We almost got caught because of you,” he says.
“Because of me?”
“Yeah, you squealed like a girl when he flipped on the porch light. If I hadn’t covered your mouth and dragged you to the woods, we would’ve been busted for sure.”
“It would’ve been worth it. Mr. Whitehead was such an asshole.”
He was our high school history teacher, and I swear he had it out for Linc and me. We couldn’t even look at each other without getting into trouble.
We spent a good part of our sophomore year in the hallway.
“That was the first time I ever wanted to kiss you.”
My lips part as he slips the wine glass from my hand and sets his empty beer bottle on the coffee table next to it. He scoots in closer, bringing a new wave of heat with him. His closeness is more intoxicating than ever, more potent.
“When we were crouched down, hidden behind the trees, my heart was racing.” He gently picks my hand up from my lap and places it on his chest, feeling the thundering beat of his heart as he holds it in place. Then he brings his fingers to my cheek, grazing my skin with his knuckles. “Not because I was afraid of gettin’ caught, but because you were so scared. And all I could think about was kissing you, so you wouldn’t be afraid.”
My heart beats harder. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me, I mean?”
“I don’t know, but I regret it every goddamn day of my life.”
He drags a finger beneath my bottom lip, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His eyes dart to my mouth, and I watch in fascination as his body grows tense and his breathing picks up.
Beneath my hand I feel his heart gain speed, leaping with abandon toward mine.
“No more regrets, Sylvie,” he whispers just before his lips cover mine.
His kiss is full of promise and strength, unlike anything I’ve ever known. His kisses before were breathtaking, heart stopping.
But they all pale in comparison to this one.
This one is built of salvation and love.
Longing and desire.
