“Well, finding the love of your life and losing them will do that to you.”
“Ohhh, is that right?” I roll my eyes.
“I speak from experience.”
“So you didn’t have the relationships?” I press.
“Well, I had one girlfriend, and I dated a few others. My girlfriend and I lasted about two months before I realized that everything about her was a total deal breaker.”
“Everything about her?” I interrupt. “What kind of things to say about someone? That’s a red flag, sir. A red flag. Bright red. So red that I’m not sure I can see past it.”
I start to pretend like I’m going to roll off of him when he holds me back down to his chest. Our lips are so close that just one hair’s breadth of a movement closer and we would be kissing.
Not a bad idea.
“Yeah, everything about her was a deal breaker, Ivy,” he insists. “Because she wasn’t you.”
He had to go and spoil my irritation.
“Red flag for her,” I say, trying for levity. Inside, though, I’m completely and utterly delighted. The thought of him breaking up with someone because she wasn’t me should be toxic as hell, and yet here I am, absolutely eating it up.
“Maybe we should kiss,” he says.
“You think we should kiss again?”
“Yeah. You know, just to make sure that we still have chemistry. I wouldn’t want to waste our time if I’m remembering badly. You know, high school. Maybe those kisses really weren’tthat great. We didn’t know what we were doing. And we’ve had some practice.”
“Is that what we were doing? We were practicing?”
He cuts off my statement by pressing his lips to mine again, and I melt.
It’s not tentative this time. Not a question. His hand slides up into my hair like he already knows exactly where it belongs, like he’s been waiting years to put it there again. My fingers catch in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer even though there’s nowhere left to go.
“Still terrible,” I murmur against his mouth.
“Yeah?” he says, already smiling, already leaning back in. “We should probably keep testing.”
“For science.”
“Obviously.”
The couch creaks softly as he shifts, and suddenly I’m half sprawled across him, my knee sliding between his, his arm braced around my back like he’s not going to let me drift even an inch too far away. The world narrows to warmth and breath and the slow, deliberate way he kisses me — like he’s relearning me, like he’s savoring it.
It’s different from all those years ago. Deeper. Slower. There’s no rush in it, no awkward uncertainty. Just certainty, just him.
I laugh softly when he breaks away, chasing his mouth for a second before catching myself. “You’re taking this very seriously.”
“I am,” he says, brushing his thumb along my jaw, his voice quieter now. “I’ve had a long time to think about it.”
Something in my chest goes soft at that, at the way he’s looking at me like I’m not a surprise, not a mistake — like I’m something he’s been expecting all along.
“Caleb—”
He kisses me again, gentler this time, like he’s answering something I didn’t quite say out loud. His hand slips lower, slow, careful, giving me time to stop him, to shift away. His mouth follows, tentative, waiting for me to move.
I don’t.
“Is this okay?” The words are warm on my inner thigh.
