That was the first time I touched her.
She stilled, just for a beat, and then leaned her head against my shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. The smallest sound left her, a soft sigh that felt like the weight of the world had just slid off her chest.
And I remember exactly what she said.
Every word.
Like my brain branded it somewhere permanent.
“I feel like I’m always too much or not enough. There’s never a middle ground. And people say I’m funny, but I think that’s just… code for…”
She never finished her thought but instead looked up at me, her knowing eyes pinning me in place and whispered the line that’s been haunting me ever since:
“You know, your voice sounds like expensive candlelight. I bet you’d smile if someone gave you a reason. Do you believe in reincarnation? Because I’m pretty sure we’ve done this before.”
Our eyes held for too long, just teetering on the edge of something else. Something that could have changed everything.
I suppose it did.
I forced myself to look away before I did something reckless.
And now here I am.
Laughing softly, bitterly, at the fact that somehow, this woman has completely derailed me. Of all the women in the world, I fall for the one in rollers, actual grandma rollers.
Man, that was hilarious.
Then there was the salted fish incident, nothing like being smacked in the crotch with a canapé to really get sparks flying.
And the sarcastic commentary. And the cheese. Always the cheese.
And then…
Yeah.
The boob slip.
My groan turns into something that might be a prayer. Her breasts, Jesus. Didn’t quite expect that one, but it most definitely wasn’t unpleasant.
That mouth.
Soft. Pink. A little bitten.
The way she looked at me right before we kissed, like she was daring me to do it. The little gasp she made when I did. The way her breath hitched, right before I completely lost the ability to think about anything but her.
I scrub both hands down my face and sit forward, elbows on my knees, head between my legs like I can fold myself in half and stop wanting her.
Because I do. Want her.
Every sarcastic, infuriating, too-honest part of her.
And right now, I have no idea if she wants me back.
Hayley
Fuck a duck, whereishe?
I’ve scoured every corner of the garden, the steps, the fountain, even behind the topiary swans, and still no Tyler.
