“No.” She laughs, a breathless, disbelieving sound. “But we can’t do this in the middle of the street.”
“We could go inside.”
“Absolutely not.”
“My place?”
“Reece.”
“Kidding.” Mostly. “Kind of.”
She pushes at my chest, and I step back, giving her space. She looks wrecked, beautifully, thoroughly wrecked, and I know I probably look the same.
“This was…” She stops, pressing her fingers to her lips. “This was…”
“Amazing?” I offer.
“Stupid.”
“Can’t it be both?”
She drops her hand, her expression shifting from dazed to conflicted in the span of a breath. “My father—”
“Doesn’t have to know.”
“He’s going to know. He always knows.”
“Then we’ll deal with it.”
“Easy for you to say. He’s notyourfather.”
“No,” I agree. “He’smycoach, who could bench me, cut my playing time, or make my life a living hell if he finds out I kissed his daughter outside her shop at midnight.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because I wanted to.” I reach up, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Because I’ve been thinking about it since the bleachers. Because you looked at me the way nobody else does, and I couldn’t walk away without knowing what this felt like.”
“And now you know.”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“So now I’m obsessed.”
She blinks and barks out a laugh. “What?”
“Obsessed,” I repeat. “Completely, irrationally obsessed. Withyou. Withthis. With whatever the hell happens next.”
“Reece—”
“I know it’s a bad idea,” I say, cutting her off gently. “I know all the reasons we shouldn’t do this, but I also know I’m going to see you again. And when I do, I’m going to want to kiss you again. And I’m going to keep wanting it until you either let me or tell me to go to hell.”
She stares at me, her expression unreadable. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
“You barely know me.”
