Page 60 of Reckless

She smiles.

I smile back.

Then… nothing.

The apartment suddenly feels very quiet.

“So,” she says, rocking back on her heels.

“So…”

Neither of us moves.

She takes a small step closer, her eyes holding mine long enough that I start wondering if I’ve forgotten something.

“You okay?” I ask.

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah.”

Another second passes, then she rises onto her toes just a little.

I frown. “What?”

She blinks. “What?”

“I thought…” I have absolutely no idea what I thought.

Her cheeks begin to turn pink. “No, it’s…” She laughs once under her breath, shaking her head. “Never mind.” She reaches for the door.

Halfway there, my brain finally catches up. She is trying to kiss me goodbye.

“Oh, fuck!” I step forward at the same moment she gives up and turns back toward the door. The side of her forehead bumps lightly into my shoulder, and I stop so abruptly I almost lose my balance.

She blinks up at me.

I look down at her.

For one painfully long second, neither of us says anything.

She’s close enough that I can still feel the warmth of her from the kiss we’d shared hours ago, close enough that all she’d have to do is lean forward again and we’d probably make the same mistake twice.

“Well…”

“Yeah.” She bites the inside of her cheek, her lips twitching despite every obvious attempt to keep a straight face, and I realize she’s fighting a losing battle with her own amusement.

“That was…” I let the words hang there because there isn’t a sentence in the English language that’s going to rescue whatever just happened.

Sage presses her lips together, fighting a smile that she’s clearly losing. “I know.” She glances down at the floor between us, gives her head the smallest shake, then looks back up at me.

I point vaguely between us. “So, we’re just…”

She folds her arms, studying me for a second like she’s weighing up exactly how honest she wants to be. “Terrible at this?”

I scratch the back of my neck. “I wasn’t going to say it.”

“You absolutely were,” she says it so matter-of-factly, I don’t even bother pretending to defend myself.

“Maybe.”