“Not here—here,” she hisses. “Is this some sort of big-brother move where you’re trying to stop me from kissing someone? Because—been there, done that, andnotabout to stand for it again.”
It’s funny that she went back to the same memory that I did. The summer she turned thirteen, Lyra decided she needed to haveher first kiss—her firstrealkiss. She had a list of boys whom she deemed suitable, a list that Gunnar somehow got a copy of.
We spent that summer blocking every opportunity Lyra had for being alone with anyone on that list.
Her brothers thought it was hilarious, but I was more satisfied knowing she wasn’t going to be kissing anyone.
Especially, since I considered that her first kiss had already happened, and it had been with me
“It’s not that,” I tell her.
“Are you aware that your right eyebrow twitches when you lie?”
This is the first time I’m hearing this. “Is that why you could always beat me playing poker?”
“No, that’s just because I’m a better card player than you could ever hope to be.” Those glorious red lips are still frowning at me.
“Okay, fine. I’m not lost,” I concede.
“If you plan on staying, you better lose the brother’s best-friend-protective deal,” she warns.
“Why wouldn’t I stay? I told you, I want to see what there really is between us.”
Lyra’s face softens, losing the irritated gleam in her eyes and some of the haughty poise she was born with. “You keep saying that,” she says in a quiet voice.
“Because it’s true. That’s why I’m here.” I reach out, my fingers practically tingling with the need to touch some part of her.
I manage a slight brush of one of her fingers. How could I have denied myself the opportunity to focus my attention on her lips? Being close enough to her for her perfume—sweet cherry blossoms—to invade my senses?
“I’ve been an idiot,” I say aloud.
“I’m not arguing with you.”
I smile, holding her gaze with a gentleness I’ve never felt before. “It’s nice not to argue with you.”
“I don’t want that,” she says in a quiet voice.
“You want to fight with me?”
“I want you to beyou, not some stranger who thinks he has to act in a certain way for the cameras. You know me better than anyone, Spencer.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.” Lyra leans towards me, like a tall flower bending in the breeze. “So you should know that you being here makes me angry.”
Her perfume, those lips, what she’s saying has the effect of making my head spin, leaving me very confused and somewhat unsteady on my feet. “It—what? I thought—”
“That’s the problem. You didn’t think—about me. About what I need, what I want. You just thought about how you might be about to lose something incredible that you never had the courage to go after.”
“Lyra…”
“I’m not finished,” she says, her voice crisp and curt and sounding very much like her mother’s. “Iknow how I feel about you, Spencer. I’ve always known. It’s only you who needs to get his head on straight.”
All of the air in my lungs expels in a huff. She knows how she feels. Does that mean—
But she’s still not finished. “You will not be getting any special treatment until you figure all this out.” Her finger juts out and pokes me in the chest. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even give youa date. I’m not wasting time here. I’m not giving up opportunities with the other men—who all know why they’re here, and that’s because ofme. I’m not picking you over them just to have you decide at the last minute that I’m not who you want. Because—” She takes a step forward and pokes me again, harder than before. “You have been picking everyone else over me for my entire life.”
“I haven’t.”
