“I’m sure.” Ford steps back, gesturing to the box.
“Okay.” I rub my hands together, smiling. There’s a large piece of poster board that’s folded in half. I pull it out, and underneath it is a cookie box from Twisted Soda. I carefully take the box out. Inside are a dozen different sugar cookies. “Oh, my gosh.” I smack a hand against my forehead.
Ford laughs. “It took you long enough.”
“Sorry, I don’t get asked to school dances as much as you do. Mr. 100 percent of the girls at school want me.” I tease.
Ford groans, running a hand down his face. “I was such an idiot.”
I walk up to him, putting my hands on both his cheeks. “But you’re a cute idiot, and most importantly, you’re my idiot.” I smoosh his cheeks together and kiss him. I unfold the poster board and read the message. “Life would be extra sweet if you’d go to homecoming with me, love Cassie Jensen. Well, huh? I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Cassie Jensen? Do you know her?” Ford asks.
“No. I don’t. Hold on, I’ll look her up on the school registry.” Her name pops up as soon as I type it in. “She’s a sophomore.”
“That makes more sense.”
“What does?”
“Most of the upperclassmen know you’re my girlfriend.”
“Some girls still don’t believe that you’re in a relationship. A couple of the cheerleaders asked me last night at Leah’s what I did to get you to like me, and how they wanted to kiss you. I told them to bat their lashes and giggle at everything you said.”
Ford rolls his eyes. “Is there a number listed with her info?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Will you text it to me? I’ll call her tomorrow and talk to her.”
“Are you upset? I know homecoming’s not a girl-ask-guy dance, but it takes a lot of courage to ask someone to a school dance.”
Ford grabs my hand, and we walk into the family room, sitting on the sectional. “I know it does, and I admire any girl who puts themselves out there like that. Things always get complicated when girls ask guys to a dance. I had two girls ask me to homecoming last year.”
“I didn’t think you went to homecoming last year.”
“Were you keeping tabs on me, Clark?”
“Oh, no! I’ve been found out. At least you haven’t seen the notebook I used to keep track of how many times a day you asked to use the bathroom.”
Ford grabs me, pinning me down on the sofa and leaning over me. “I knew you were obsessed with me.”
“Hopelessly so.” I thrash my head back and forth, pretending to cry. He lets go of one of my arms, sweeping my hair out of my face. I twist my hand into his shirt, pulling him down to me. “Kiss me,” I whisper. His lips crash over mine with a fierce kiss that’s teeth and tongues and the release of all the feelings we’ve had bottled up all day. I push his shirt up his back, and in a swift motion, he strips it off, tossing it over the side of the sofa. He lets his weight settle over me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Ford on top of me makes me feel safe, protected, and loved.
“I love you, Hannah.” Ford punctuates between kisses down my neck.
“I love you.” I dig my fingers into his back, rocking my hips against him. We both groan at the feeling.
“Are you okay here, or do you want to go upstairs?”
“Do you have a condom?”
“Yes.”
“Then here is perfect.” I raise my hands over my head, and Ford helps me take off my sundress. He leans in, kissing my jaw, and then trails his lips down my neck to my shoulder. He kisses across my collarbone to the base of my throat, kissing my necklace charms.
“I love that you never take this off.”
“It makes me feel like there’s always a part of you with me.” I raise my arms so Ford can help me take off my bikini top when my phone rings. “Oh no,” I groan, dropping my hands.
