Liam sighs. “I probably deserved one.”
I don’t know why he would think that; he didn’t do anything wrong. But before I can argue with him, he shakes himself.
“Now come on. It really is warmer over here.”
He’s right, it really is, though how much is the heater and how much is his body I’m not sure.
“Better?” Liam scooches over until our shoulders are touching.
I nod, because I’ve lost the power of speech. Does he not notice how close we are?
“Great. Where did we leave off?”
I flip back, find my spot, clear my throat. “Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief. I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, to spite a raven’s heart within a dove.”
“And I most... uh...”
“Jocund, apt...” I prompt.
“Jocund, apt, and willingly, to do you rest, a thousand deathswould die.” Liam slouches a bit, and his knee accidentally presses against mine. But he doesn’t move it. “This is impossible.”
“Come on. You’re nearly to the end.” I do my best impression of Cam as Olivia, which basically means trying to sound as self-important as possible. “Where goes Cesario?”
Liam snorts at me. “Okay, Cam. You sure you don’t want to act?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, okay.” He takes a sip of his mocha and then rests a hand on my knee. The knee he’s pressing against. And even though the rest of me is still chilly, that knee might actually be on fire. It’s hard to breathe with him so close, with him pressed against my shoulder and touching my knee. Two points of contact. His warmth and scent wrap around me like an electric blanket.
I shake myself. “Where goes Cesario?”
“After him I love, more than I love these eyes, more than my life, more, by all mores, than e’er I shall love wife.”
Liam’s looking right at me as he says it, and I can’t look away, even though I don’t remember what comes next, because he’s too close to me, and he’s talking about love, and I’ve spent the last two weeks pretending to be Orsino, who Viola loves.
My own lips are chapped, and I lick them, and do Liam’s eyes track the movement? But that doesn’t make sense. He’s not talking anymore. Did he lose the spot?
He leans closer. I think he’s angling for the script, but instead his shoulder brushes mine. The hand on my knee is still warm, and my heart’s pounding hard. Can he feel my heartbeat? Do knees have a pulse point?
But he’s so warm, and the coffee shop is so cold, so I lean a little closer too.
Liam swallows, and his hand grips my knee even tighter, and it’s so nice and warm that I lay my own hand on top of his. And I’m not sure, but did he look at my lips again?
“Liam?” I manage to say.
Jackson. His lips make my name but I can’t hear anything over my own pounding heart. And is he learning closer or am I?
What is happening?
No, I’m definitely leaning in, because he’s warm and he smells nice and he’s one of the best people I know, and maybe his head is angling just a bit? Because suddenly our noses are brushing, and I can feel his breath on my face, and he’s staring right at me until I close my eyes and bring my lips to his.
30
I. Am. Kissing. Liam. Coquyt.
It’s soft, gentle, no tongue, not even any open mouth. But despite how thin and chapped his lips are, they’re warm and perfect. And then it’s over all too soon. He leans away and looks at me.
My lungs are about to burst from holding my breath. Did he not want to do that? Did I misread everything? Is he mad at me?
