“You can’t just sneak in here like this.”
“Sure I can.”
She opens her mouth to argue again, but I lean forward and kiss her before the protest makes it out.
Soft.
Quick.
Just enough to steal her breath.
For a second, she freezes.
Then her fingers grab the front of my shirt and she kisses me back.
And just like that, the hours of distance and restraint from the past few days vanish.
When we finally pull apart, she exhales slowly.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Been told that.”
Her eyes soften despite herself.
“What if someone saw you?”
I shrug.
“They didn’t.”
“And if they did?”
“Then they’d mind their own business.”
She shakes her head, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now.
“You’re impossible, Noah.”
“Maybe.”
I lean a little closer.
“But you didn’t kick me out.”
Her cheeks flush faintly.
The bus hums beneath us as the miles roll by outside.
And for a moment we just sit there in the tiny compartment, knees touching, the rest of the team asleep around us.
I brush a curl away from her face.
“Missed you today,” I murmur.
Her eyes flick up to mine.
“It's been like six hours.”
