My face heated and I cleared my throat, trying to gather the courage to say something, anything. “Almost.”
He frowned. “What’s up?”
I looked at him, our gazes finally meeting, and my stomach flipped, butterflies flooding me. Just say something already. I took a deep breath. “I just…”
And instead of finishing my sentence, I reached out, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him in close.
The moment our lips met, electricity raced through me. My skin tingled where we touched and my gut flipped and twisted with nervous excitement. Micah inhaled sharply and leaned in slightly, and as he did, his scent filled me, making me dizzy. He parted his lips and I followed suit. Before the kiss could get any deeper, I pulled away, and when I looked at him again, his eyes were wide, an expression on his face I couldn’t interpret.
Regret slammed into me. The possibility I’d crossed a line that he wasn’t interested in crossing felt too real at that moment.“I am so sorry.” My apology came out at barely more than a whisper.
Micah cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing hard. “It’s fine. Um, I’m going to go to bed. Call if you need anything. Night.” And then he was gone, closing the door behind himself.
As soon as he was gone, I let out a deep exhale. I’d wanted to kiss him, but I hadn’treallyplanned on acting on it, had I? It didn’t matter anymore what I’d planned on doing. Without thinking too hard, I’d reached out, pulled Micah close, put my lips to his, and kissed him.
And I’d liked it. A lot.
I picked up my phone and opened my latest text chain with Jackson.
Asher: You awake?
He answered immediately.
Jackson: Yeah. What’s up?
I took a deep breath and tapped out my confession. No dancing around it. I just ripped off the bandage.
Asher: I kissed Micah.
His response was a string of emojis and exclamation points, followed by a GIF of someone’s head exploding, and another of two people holding each other and dancing with joy.
Jackson: Tell me everything.
Asher: I don’t know. He was helping me get into bed and something came over me and… I kissed him.
Jackson: How did he react?
Asher: He ran. Immediately.
Jackson: Ouch.
Asher: Yeah. What do I do now?
Jackson: Well… how do you feel?
I thought for a moment. How did I feel? I felt electric. I felt alive. I felt like I wanted more.
Asher: Like I want to do it again.
Jackson: Then I guess you need to talk to him.
I frowned at my phone. That wasn’t much help. I still didn’t know what to do. I put my phone on the nightstand, frustrated. After sighing deeply, I picked up the little remote to turn off the overhead light—a luxury Micah had installed the day after he moved in—and pressed the button, plunging the room into darkness. Pulling the blanket up to my shoulders, I sighed again. I turned to look out the window at the moonlight filtering in through the blinds and wondered what Micah was doing. I forced my eyes closed and waited for sleep to take me.
The next morning, I woke with renewed interest in independence. For possibly obvious reasons, I wasn’t sure I wanted to rely on Micah to help me get out of my too-tall bed and into the shower. It was to no avail. My ribs and hip ached, zinging with pain as I tried to slide out of bed. I let out a groan of frustration and discomfort and gave up, waiting. Before I’d had a chance to re-evaluate my life and maybe make a plan, Micah knocked twice on my door and pushed it open.
“Rise and shine.” He stepped into the room but held back, lingering in the doorway, where he’d usually burst in, a ray of sunshine and energy that even I couldn’t resist. Apparently in more ways than one.
My breath caught in my throat and I nodded slowly. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could decide what to say, Micah spoke in a rush.
