getting to my door. Butterflies flap around in the chambers of my heart as he clicks the handle. Freezing air hits me, and he stretches out his hand to help me down.
This truck is gigantic.
“I’m going to need a stepladder to get in and out of this thing.”
“Springs, there is no way I’m going to let a stepladder steal my thunder,” he replies, holding my hand as he shuts the door.
The headlights flash when he presses the button on the key fob to lock the truck. I’m bummed we are back here. I want us to crawl into the truck and drive so we can be alone. It’s late, but I don’t want to say goodnight.
I want to say good morning, but I don’t have the courage to ask if he wants to spend the night. We don’t have to have sex if he doesn’t want to, I don’t know if I’m ready for that, but maybe he’d just want to hang out? He has had too many opportunities to kiss me and hasn’t, so I don’t think he will. Which means I’m in the friendzone.
That’s what it’s called, right? When one person is interested and the other is not, the one that isn’t interested politely just scoots us unwanteds to the side, yet continues to be nice.
Well, this is a terrible feeling that I never want to feel again. Rejection can go fuck itself.
I think I love him.
I won’t be able to be his friend.
If he doesn’t feel for me the way I feel for him, I’ll need to leave.
We walk hand in hand down the breezeway and pass the door to the main room, where most of the members are hanging out. It’s loud. Music is blaring. Loud laughs can be heard in the hallway. I bet everyone is having a good time in there.
Maybe that’s where he wants to be?
“I can walk myself to my room,” I’m barely able to push the words past my lips.
“What do you mean?” His boots come to a sudden stop, and the way his lips purse and brows drip tell me he isn’t too happy with what I’ve said.
I’m not blind. I can read between the lines. “Listen, I know dating isn’t your thing, and your friends are in the main room having a good time without you. I don’t want to keep you back. I don’t want you to think you have to walk me to my door when you aren’t interested in me.”
“What in—”
“—And don’t feel bad about it. I get it. I want you to know I had a great time.”
“What makes you think—”
I go on. “—I understand I have some baggage. I’m a walking time bomb right now and getting involved with me is crazy. I’m younger too and—”
“—Violet, I—”
I don’t let him finish. “—I’m younger with no experience and that’s a lot for a man your age to handle. Wait, that came out wrong. I’m not saying you’re old, but you are older than me. In a good way. You aren’t elderly or anything,” I chuckle. God, I’m ruining this. I’m taking that shovel and digging my own grave. “I’m sure you are used to a certain kind of woman, and I’m not that.”
“And what in the world makes you think—”
“—And I know all this is true because there have been ample—” he cuts me off by hauling me against him and crushing his lips onto mine.
Oh, wow.
His hands cup my face, and he angles his head to the side as our lips slide together. His lips are plump and soft, gently claiming my mouth in one of the best kisses to ever happen in human history. It has to be. His tongue dips between my lips, and I flick mine out too, not as confident as he is, but I want to taste him as well.
The hot chocolate lingers, and I drink it down, hoping something more than kissing will happen between us tonight. A fire brews in my belly, and I stand on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. I push my chest against his, and he growls, pushing me against the side of the clubhouse. My back hits the brick wall and his fingers dig into my thighs. Amos lifts my legs, and I hook them over his hips.
He grinds his pelvis against mine, and I feel the hard bulge beneath his pants. It takes my breath away. I have to tilt my head back, which means the