He pulled one knee up and rested his arm on it. “You don’t have to figure all of it out tonight.”
“I know.”
“You really don’t.”
I stared at him. “You always this reasonable after midnight?”
“No. I’m just not trying to bullshit you.” He reached over and hooked a finger into the sleeve of my jacket. “You’ve been back, what, a few weeks?”
“Something like that.”
“And during that time, you moved into a house with strangers—and me—were thrown into training here, worked your way back into fighting shape, and got picked for a fight in LA.” He tilted his head. “Maybe give yourself a minute before you decide you’re failing at life.”
I moved closer until our legs pressed together and took his hand. “You know, for a guy I came out here to make out with, you’re kind of talking a lot.”
“Then kiss me.”
I leaned in and did just that. It started slowly, gentle enough that I could feel him smile into it for half a second before he kissed me back properly. His hand moved to my face, fingers warm on my jaw, and the rest of the noise in my head disappeared instantly.
When I pulled back, he was still close enough that our noses nearly touched. “I missed this,” I said.
His thumb moved against my jaw. “You had me twice this morning.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
I kissed him again because he was making it impossible not to, and this time he let go of my hand just long enough to slide both of his hands to my waist and pull me closer. The blanketshifted under us. I caught myself with one hand and ended up half over him, which only made him laugh against my mouth.
“You’re real smooth,” he teased.
“Shut up.”
We stayed like that for a minute, his hands still on me, my knee between his. Then Keaton let out a breath and rested his head lightly against my shoulder.
I slid an arm around him and held him there. “You tired?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Bad shift?”
“Long shift. Not bad, though.”
I rubbed my hand over his back. “You hungry?”
He tipped his head back enough to look at me. “Did you bring food too?”
I grimaced. “No. I thought the blanket was enough before you started calling this a date.”
“It is a date.”
I barked out a laugh. “You just wanted to say that.”
“A little.”
I shook my head, still smiling. “I can grab some burgers on the way back after I drop you off at your car.”
“Perfect.” His hand slid to the front of my shirt. “But I like this part first.”
