It’s not rushed like some of our kisses before.
The hungry desire of that one-night stand shifts into something slower and deeper. Like he’s not trying to win anything this time.
Like he’s just along for the ride.
The music plays in the background while the night presses in around us. He rolls a hand along my side and pulls me in.
“Goddamn you’re a good kisser, Cass.”
And just like that, I forget everything else.
My eyes drift up to the stars when we’re rudely interrupted.
“Hey!”
A voice cuts through the dark.
Sharp. Loud.
“What the hell are you two doing out there?!”
We freeze.
Logan pulls back, eyes wide as he looks in the direction of the noise.
“Uh…”
A flashlight beam sweeps across the field. “You can’t be here!”
“Oh, shit,” he mutters.
I start laughing.
“Logan. Did you get me in trouble?”
“Run.”
“What?”
“Run.”
After gathering the blanket, the wine, and whiskey, he grabs my hand, and suddenly we’re sprinting across the outfield, the music still playing from his phone, both of us laughing like idiots.
“Stop!” the voice yells.
We do not stop.
By the time we reach the edge of the field and hop the fence—me with Logan’s help—I’m breathless, half bent over, still laughing.
“This is—” I gasp. “This is insane.”
Logan’s laughing too, shaking his head, still holding my hand, still not letting go as we approach his truck.
He looks at me, and something shifts in his expression, like he didn’t expect this either. Like maybe this meant more than he planned.
“Worth it?” he asks.
I meet his eyes, still catching my breath.
