“How about a compromise? We split both.”
“Deal,” I rasp.
She takes her fork and gets a bite of cake, holding it to my lips. But before I take the cake off the tines, I grab her wrist, pulling her forward, and she catches herself on my thighs.
Our mouths meet, and the fork clatters with the cake onto the little tray. I move my hand to the back of her neck, sliding it up into that beautiful curly hair, and she sighs into the kiss. I nip her lower lip gently before pulling back because I could toss this tray and keep this going. But I knew it was taking a risk simply kissing her.
Mae sits back with glazed eyes and rosy cheeks. “Oh, shit,” she says under her breath.
I force myself to stay calm and collected, but inside I’m running around like a horse with the zoomies.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She nods and presses her fingers to her lips. “You caught me by surprise.”
Crap.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked.”
Mae shakes her head and takes a long drag of her wine. “No, no, it’s okay. It was … good.”
“That didn’t sound too confident,” I mumble.
Mae tips her cup, draining the rest of the wine. “You keep surprising me, and I don’t know what to do with it.”
I frown and pick up the leftover apple pie and chocolate cake, then fold up the little tray, setting it to the side.
“You don’t have to do anything, Mae. You can just … enjoy it.”
She huffs and grabs the bottle of wine, pouring some more. “Can you hand me a water?” Mae asks.
I grab a bottle and hand it to her. She drinks half of it then moves back to her wine as if it’s the liquid courage she needs.
Maybe she’s not ready for this, and she said yes because I pushed too hard.
“I—”
“Look —”
We both speak at the same time.
“Go ahead,” I tell her, rubbing the back of my neck. I’ve never been so nervous around a woman before. I don’t know what to do next. It throws me off and yet excites me.
Mae looks over the land and then down into her cup.
“It’s never been me, you know? It’s always been my friends, or the ‘sorry it’s not you, it’s me’.” She takes another swig of wine. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear this. But don’t apologize for kissing me because I’m not sorry at all.”
I smile, but I want to know what she’s thinking.
“I do. Tell me,” I tell her.
She looks me in the eye. The moon and Christmas lights cast a contrasting glow over her bronze skin.
Mae huffs. “I told you when we were dancing I have terrible luck.”
I nod.
“It seems like every time I go out with someone, they used me to get to know my other prettier friends, or some other stupid reason. I figured I was too boring, or not pretty enough, or whatever. It doesn’t matter. And please understand I’m not … I don’t knowwhyI’m telling you this, but I don’t want pity. That’s not what this is,” she says.
