what happened with his mom and who his favorite teacher was and if he took the bus or if his parents gave him rides every morning. But I don’t. I want. I want. I want.
He starts laughing, and not some quiet chuckle. He’s gasping for air. “You come prepared,” he says, pointing to my fist.
I hold my self-defense hand up. “Um, you led me to an abandoned elementary school. That has ‘I want to kill you and play dress up with your dead body’ written all over it.”
His laughter subsides for a moment, and he says, “Okay. That’s fair. Good on you.”
I drop the keys in the pocket of my dress, and kick a few pieces of gravel around. “Just don’t kill me.”
A smile flickers for a moment before he says, “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Without asking.”
“So. Why. Did. You?” Each word comes out like a drop in an empty bucket.
“You know how when you’re a kid and you’re having a great day? You like your teacher. Your friends are okay. You don’t suck at school. But then you do something that you would never be able to stop even if you saw it coming?”
He sees the confusion on my face.
“Like—like calling your teacher Mom.”
I can’t hide my horrified expression. “Wait. What? I’m sorry, but did you compare kissing me to calling your teacher Mom?”
He pushes his hands through his hair and groans. “No. Well, yes. But it was like this reaction I had. Like this thing I couldn’t control.”
“And now you’re embarrassed?”
“No, no!” He throws his hands out, like they could wash away his words. “I meant that it felt like I couldn’t help it. I’m only embarrassed that I didn’t even take the time to read you. That I just did it. And I’m sorry if that’s not something you wanted me to do.”
“It’s okay,” I say, mostly because he normally doesn’t talk so much and I’m a little mesmerized by it.
He steps forward. “Is it okay as in, ‘don’t let it happen again,’ or . . . was it okay?”
I shrug because the rest of my body is frozen.
He takes another step forward. It’s quiet for a moment. This is my chance to step back and stop whatever this is from happening. I feel my self-control slipping.
“Because I think you kissed me back.”
My cheeks flood with heat. He’s got me there. “It didn’t suck. It just wasn’t, like, explosions,” I lie.
“So, mediocre?”
I bite down on my lips, making them disappear. I take three steps, closing the distance between us.
He props his elbows up against his truck and tilts his head back.
I do the same, and for a moment, we share the sky until I break the silence. “So you kissed me on an impulse?” The tension winding through my muscles eases as I find myself getting more comfortable with him. “But why?” There’s still that hum, though. That vibration of adrenaline.
Drizzles of rain splash down on top of us, making the air feel instantly thicker with humidity. Bo glances up, like he might somehow figure out how to make it stop.
“Let’s get in the truck.” He opens the passenger door for me and I hop inside while he jogs around the front and lets himself in.
We just miss the onslaught of rain. Drops slap angrily at his windshield. It’s so loud he almost has to yell. “On a scale of one to ten,” he says. “How was it?”
“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”
“I’m kind of an egomaniac.”
I feel brave. I am brave. “Maybe you should go for a do-over. Best out of two.”
He clears his throat, and my eyes are all on him. “Well, I usually prefer to get it right on the first try, but I’d hate to deprive you.” He scoots past his steering wheel, traveling to me. His hand cradles my cheek in his palm. Nodding his head down, his lips nearly meet mine. “You’re sure?”
Surprising even myself, I don’t answer. I kiss him. I kiss Bo Larson. And when he parts his lips with mine, I don’t think about it. Because for the first time in my life, I fit. I fit without any question.
He braces my cheeks with both hands and pulls me even closer to him.
If El even feels one-tenth of this with Tim, then I don’t know how she waited so long to have sex, because when Bo’s lips move against mine, I can think of nothing outside of us.
His hands travel down