“I like to think so,” I tell him and chew on my lower lipnervously, contemplating if I should reveal more. But something I’ve learned is that honesty rules over everything, even if I’m terrified he’ll look at me differently. “I was diagnosed with clinical depression last year. Before, I was told it was just my being a teenager with my silly little mood swings. They were more than that. I couldn’t sleep, friends didn’t understand my moods, and on the off chance that my brother was home he’d try to coerce me to play the piano when that was the last thing I wanted to do. It took Liam’s death to really put a name to it because the signs were always there. And I was glad it wasn’t all in my head—it wasn’t simply me being a teenager. ”
“What do you mean?”
“With my diagnosis and researching what it means, I suspect my brother had clinical depression as well.” I look over at him as we continue our walk. “I can see the wheels turning, and I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“I’m a caretaker by nature, so it’s going to happen.”
“Good to know,” I muse and heft my bag higher on my shoulder, “but I take my antidepressants daily and therapy helps. Talking helps. What?” I ask when I see him looking at me with a soft, boyish smile on his face.
“I like it when you talk,” he admits, “and I like that you’re not afraid to tell me these things.”
“Well, if we’re dating, then you should know these kinds of things.”
The parking garage looms ahead and a melancholy feeling washes over me when I realize I have no clue the next time I’ll see him. Which is strange because I can’t remember the last time I was excited to see him, let alone excited about anything or anyone.
“What floor did you park on?” he asks when we file into the elevator.
“Fifth floor,” I say, leaning against the wall.
“Coincidence or fate?” he asks and presses the button for the floor.
“How about it was the only free spot I could find when I was driving up?” I joke lightly.
“That too.”
When we step into the elevator, the setting sun bathes us in an orange glow. I’m thankful the walls are glass and that we’re not encased in a tin box to see the sunset. We’ve never been alone like this, and it sends energy coursing through me. Once the elevator stops on our floor and opens up, he holds his arm out to let me lead the way. I dig in my bag for my keys and hit the unlock button, only to find that a handful of us are parked on the floor, and his car is a few spaces down.
“Well…” I begin, nervous about how to say goodbye.
My breath comes out annoyingly loud as Brandon encroaches on my space and backs me into my driver’s side door. He towers over me by half a foot and his lingering cologne is like a personally scented candle. Spice and bergamot. My two new favorite scents. His work outfit of a button-down navy blue shirt brings out some of the green in his hazel eyes, and I can so easily picture us spending the day in a park with no one around. Strange, because I don’t let myself picture the future that easily anymore.
His hand lands on the hood of my car and his other hand tucks loose strands of hair behind my ear and cradles the side of my face with the most gentle of touches.
“Well,” he says as a mirror to me with his face hovering inches from mine.
One of the hardest things about clinical depression is my lack of energy for anything. Romantic interest and sexual desire for anyone has been the hardest to cope with.But Brandon sparks something in me I thought was lost forever. I feel the stirrings of desire awaken in my body and I want to break the moment we’re having to cheer, but I don’t. Not when the sight of him licking his bottom lip, as if he’s about to say something, almost halts me, and I take the leap to press my lips against his. The shock on both of us is evident as we realize I was the one who made the move, but we stand here. With him leaning slightly against me and my weight against my car. Until he moves and his hand wraps around the back of my neck, and the pressure of his lips against mine has the kiss reaching an inferno level.
My shaky hands fall to his waist, and I grip onto him like a lifeline. Brandon angles my head and his tongue licks at my bottom lip. The feel of his body against me pulls a whimper from deep inside me, and I open to him. At the entrance, his body weight presses more firmly against me as our tongues tangle. My bag and keys fall to the parking garage floor, and I reach up, winding my hand through his perfectly styled hair. I give the strands a small tug and revel in the groan that travels up his throat by the action. Brandon commands my mouth like I’m sure he does at work and it makes me weak for him. Which is something I haven’t been in a very long time because the need to be strong all the time so I don’t fall apart is exhausting.
Awareness that we’re in public, even though we’re the only two on this floor, must kick in as he begins to slow down the most earth-shattering kiss I’ve ever experienced. The other kisses were full of shock and rebellion, but this kiss was met with intention. With a few more kisses and one on the tip of my nose catching me off guard, he rests his forehead against mine and his heaving chest is a wonderful sign to know he’s feeling this too. That the road we’re traveling down is worth it.
“When’s your next Saturday off?” he asks gruffly.
It takes a moment for his question to register as he just kissed me stupid. “Um, next Saturday. Why?”
“Because I wanna take you golfing.”
My head rears back.Golfing? “Uh…”
Brandon smirks and bends down to retrieve my bag and keys. “Yeah. I haven’t been in a while and I want to get to know you better.”
“By doing something you like to do?” I tease, but then swoon as he loops my bag onto my shoulder and places my keys in my hand.
“Don’t worry. We’ll have all the time to do things you like to do.”
I survey him with a tilt of my head. “Slow,” I mouth and he smiles at the word.
“Slow. I promise. Now hop in your car before I kiss you again.”
