and it isn’t right for me to lead him on and think there’s more to this than there really ever can be.
So why do I want to stay?
“I really need to get going,” I say. “But thank you for this. I had a nice time.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” he says.
He clears the beer bottles off the top of the bar and sets the shot glasses next to the sink. I step into the office to shut down the computer and lock up the safe. When I come back out, he’s waiting for me.
I lock the door behind us and walk with him across the back parking lot toward my house.
My heart is racing now that we’re out here in the dark together. As much as I don’t want it to, this feels like the end of a first date, and I can’t help but feel nervous butterflies dancing around in my stomach.
“Well, I’ll see you Monday, if not before,” I say. “Enjoy the day off tomorrow.”
“You too,” he says. “What are you up to?”
“Inventory,” I say.
“Doesn’t sound much like a day off.”
“No, I guess not.”
Neither one of us moves, and I must look silly still standing here just waiting for him to say more. Why does it feel like there should be more?
I’m so mixed up, I’m not even sure what I want him to say. Or if I just want him to say nothing and turn and leave before I do something stupid.
“Goodnight,” I say, finally.
He takes a deep breath, and his eyes drop to my lips. I swallow back desire, knowing I need to get inside the house and forget what I’m feeling so that I can keep my life even and sane and safe.
But just as I force myself to turn away, he touches my arm and pulls me back.
There is only a breath of air between us as he moves his body closer to mine. I can feel his heart beating against the side of my arm as he clutches it to his chest.
He doesn’t say anything, but this is not a moment that needs words. Right now, there is only a choice. Yes or no. Do we walk through this door, or do we let the possibility of what could have been pass us by?
I know what he wants, because he’s telling me with his eyes and with the way he’s holding so tightly to my arm. But he’s waiting to know what I want. He’s waiting for me to decide.
It’s my heart that gives in, and I lean toward him, terrified, but excited at the same time.
All it takes is that one movement—that one moment of yes—and he wraps his arms around me. His warm lips descend on mine, and I melt into him.
Every inch of my body burns as he kisses me. I lift up, my hand touching his cheek and pulling him closer. I want more. I don’t care how dangerous this is, I want to step into the fire and never look back.
When he pulls away, he takes my hands in his and holds them close to his body, warming them with his heat. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he whispers.
I want to tell him to do it again, but the familiar fear is already creeping back in, telling me I’m in scary territory. That I should quit while I’m still ahead.
“You’re trembling,” he says.
I’m terrified. I don’t say it, but I feel it down to my toes.
I haven’t let anyone kiss me in years, which is ridiculous for someone my age to say, but it’s the truth. I’ve avoided moments like this exact one with everything that I am, and now that it’s here, I have no idea what to do next. My heart says stay, but my brain says run.
“Say something so I know I didn’t just completely freak you out,” he says with a nervous laugh.
“I don’t know what to say.” My voice sounds foreign and frightened, which I’m sure is not at all what he wants to hear from me, but I have nothing else to offer.
“It hasn’t completely escaped my notice that you turn down any guy who gets within ten feet of you at the bar,” he says, running his fingers across mine. “I know you’re guarded and careful and focused, but all those things are part of why I absolutely cannot stop thinking about you.”
I meet his eyes and shiver in the cool evening air. It’s