“It’s been years since I’ve had this, so…thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes until Lexi finished her dessert. “So…what are we doing, Connor?”
He placed his empty bowl on the coffee table. “You mean other than having dessert?”
She laughed. “Exactly. Was this a date or two friends hanging out?”
“I was kind of hoping you’d tell me.”
Her eyes went wide again. “Me? Why?”
“Well, earlier you said it’s a date, but I wasn’t sure if you were just saying it because it’s a saying or if you wanted it to be a date.”
“Oh.”
He playfully nudged her shoulder. “So, which is it?”
Good question.
Shifting slightly, she faced him. “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I’ve really enjoyed our newfound friendship. It’s been nice having a fellow single-parent around who understands the struggles.”
“O-kay…” Turning, he mimicked her pose.
For a moment she didn’t say anything, but then she figured she might as well be brutally honest. “Kelsey reminded me how we were just kids back when we dated and that…I don’t know…maybe we didn’t really feel what we thought we felt.”
“And this matters why?”
“Because I don’t know if I want to date an ex,” she replied simply. “I don’t want to relive the past, Connor. It’s not possible. And honestly, there were too many disappointments.”
He nodded. “But we also can’t pretend that the past never happened. We do have a history. We shared a lot of firsts and, personally, I don’t want to act like they never happened.”
Like she could actually forget…
“All I’m saying is that…” Pausing, she sighed. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”
Another nod. “I get that too.”
“So where does that leave us?” For some reason, she wanted him to make the decision. She was too afraid to do it on her own, and truthfully, she didn’t trust herself. He used to be able to read her mind, and she wished he still could.
Just being this close to him was wreaking havoc on her senses. Her heart was doing that uneven, nervous thud it hadn’t done since she was a teenager—since him. Being like this with him again, she could feel the years folding in on themselves, collapsing the distance they had both built. His eyes lingered on hers, familiar and different all at once, like a song she used to know by heart but hadn’t heard in ages.
Some of the windows were open and the night air carried the faint scent of pine and the hush of crickets, but all Lexi could focus on was how near he was—how the line of his jaw had sharpened, how the boy she used to know had been replaced by a man who still somehow knew exactly how to look at her.
“I almost forgot what this felt like,” Connor murmured, his voice low, hesitant, as if speaking too loud would break the fragile moment hanging between them.
Lexi’s breath caught. Her lips parted to answer, but no words came—only the realization that she wanted to close the gap, wanted to feel what she had denied herself for so long.
When he leaned in, it wasn’t rushed. It was cautious, reverent, like he was asking permission with every inch. She didn’t move at first, stunned by the surge of memory—summer nights, whispered promises, the ache of goodbye. But then her hand lifted almost on its own, brushing against his chest, steadying herself as if to say yes, I remember too.
Their lips met, soft and trembling, the kiss tasting of longing and years lost. It wasn’t the wild, eager kiss of teenagers. It was slower, deeper, weighted with everything they hadn’t said in fifteen years. For a moment, Lexi felt both sixteen again and completely herself now, every wall she had built crumbled in the warmth of his mouth against hers.
When they finally pulled apart, just a fraction, she realized she was shaking. Connor’s forehead rested against hers, his breath uneven.
“Worth the wait?” he whispered.
Lexi let out a shaky laugh, her lips tingling. “More than I ever thought it would be.”
