“Then let me know you.”
“It’s not how this works.”
“Then tell me how it works.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again before she finally admits, “I don’t know.”
“Then we’ll figure it out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.” She steps away, putting distance between us. “This was a mistake. A one-time, heat-of-the-moment mistake. It can’t happen again.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
I should accept it, walk away, let her have the last word, and move on with my life.
But I don’t.
“You’re lying,” I say softly.
Her eyes flash. “Excuse me?”
“You’re lying. To me. To yourself.” I take a step forward, and she holds her ground. “You felt what I felt. You wanted this as much as I did. And you’re going to keep wanting it, no matter how many times you tell yourself you don’t.”
“You’re arrogant.”
“I’m honest.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“And you’re still talking to me.”
She glares. It’s fierce, furious, and beautiful, and for a second, I think she’s going to shove me, slap me, or tell me to leave and never come back.
Instead, she grabs my jacket, pulls me down, and kisses me again.
It’s brief, barely three seconds, but it sears through me the way the first one did.
When she pulls back, her eyes are blazing. “There… now we’re even.”
“Even?”
“You kissed me. I kissed you. We’re done.”
“Ava.”
“Go home, Reece.”
She turns toward a beat-up yellow sedan a few spaces down and unlocks it. Then she looks back at me. “Before we do something we’ll actually regret.” She slides into the car and starts the engine.
I step back and watch as she pulls away, disappearing down the street. After she’s gone, I stand there for a long time with the taste of her still on my lips, the feel of her hands in my hair still buzzing against my scalp.
This was a bad idea.
The worst idea.
And I’m already planning how to do it again.
