back, and the way it’s suddenly not so reluctant anymore. It’s soft and surging, the way he pinches my bottom lip between his own, face tilting to get closer.
His hand cups my cheek, fingers weaving into the hair behind my ear, and he pulls me closer, like… like maybe he wants more. Like maybe he’s getting more out of this than just some favor to a dumb girl. Like maybe when his mouth parts, his wet tongue slipping between my lips, it’s because he likes doing this.
My stomach bottoms out and my fingers curl into his shirt, looking for something to hold onto as I try to mirror his movements, tongue meeting his. The kiss is wet, and warm. He tastes like air and something ripe and alive, and when he sucks a soft retreat, only to dip back into my mouth, my chest feels like it might cave in.
My breath hitches and he stills.
He pulls away gently, his hands slowly dipping back into his pockets as he steps away. The light from the houses reflects off his lips, shiny with our kiss.
I’ve gone from boiling to tepid, from the warmth of his body next to mine, to standing awkwardly alone in the woods.
“That was—” I start, because someone has to say something, and from the shell-shocked look on his face, the expression that no doubt precedes deep and sudden regret, he is at a loss for words. “Okay.”
His eyebrow shoots up. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I repeat, giving my lips a quick suck. “That was… okay. Good. Done. Mission accomplished.”
Oh my god, Vandy, shut the fuck up.
I give him a double thumbs-up.
And because things couldn’t get worse… he slowly, reluctantly, gives me a double thumbs-up in return.
“I’m just going to go in now. You should probably wait—”
“A few minutes. Yeah, I agree.” That same dumbfounded expression is on his face and wow, that is not the look you want a guy to give you after you jumped him in the woods. Jesus.
I take off after that, hobbling down the hill as fast as my leg will take me. I don’t look back until I’m all the way at the back porch, hand on the doorknob. I can barely see him up on the hill, but I know he’s there, watching to make sure I get in the house, probably mentally scrubbing what had to be the worst kiss of his life out of his mind.
“It’s better when you can feel the wind whipping around, you know?”
I look down at his hand on the gearshift, confident and sure. I think about what it would feel like on my hip. The pressure of his thumb against my skin. I look down, feeling a flicker of a memory, then look back up at his face.
Fourteen-year-old Reyn is gone. A more mature, more handsome boy sits next to me. But boy isn’t exactly the right word. Not for the stubble on his chin, or the strong muscles that line his forearm as he shifts from third to fourth gear. This is a man.
“I knew it,” he says suddenly, raising his voice over the loud rush of wind.
“Knew what?”
“That you wanted to kiss me.”
My stomach flip-flops. He knew? How did he know? That was a secret I’d carry to the grave. My cheeks burn with heat and I dare a glance at him again. He’s smirking at me from the driver’s seat.
“What?” I laugh nervously. “I don’t want to kiss you.”
I play it off, or try to, but he’s leaning over the center console, one hand sliding behind my neck, the other still on the wheel. He dips his head and brushes his lips against mine, sweet and soft. He pulls back, smiling that smile.
“How was it? Was it worth it?”
I turn away and look out the window, seeing the glow in the dark. Fireflies, I think. But then, I realize it’s something else. My stomach lurches and I sit up. “Watch out! There’s a—” But it’s too late. It’s always too late. The next moment is a flash of pale brown fur, the squeal of tires, Reynolds’ fighting against the wheel—
I jolt awake, a scream strangled in the back of my throat. My hand moves to my lips, which feel different. They tingle with the memory of Reyn’s kiss, from the dream.
No.
The real memory of Reyn’s kiss in the woods.
God, that’s the real nightmare.
I stand, tugging at my sweaty T-shirt. I can’t believe I kissed Reyn McAllister. I can’t believe I basically played on his guilt