her silhouette as she climbs onto a large flat stone next to the fall, draws her knees up to her chin, and wraps her arms around her legs. The rational part of me is grateful for the darkness, glad I can’t see the smooth skin of her back or her long legs. The greedy part of me wants full sun on her so I can look at every inch and save the memory for my lonely nights.
“You’re shivering.” I push up onto the stone and settle down next to her. “You okay?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. She shudders. “I don’t know if I’m okay at all.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. I’m glad I won’t see Brogan tonight. I’d probably do something I’d regret. Like kicking him in the balls.
“What are you apologizing for? Brogan made his own decisions. You’re not responsible.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
“Arrow?” The word floats into the night air, mixes with the whisper of the leaves and the music of the trickling waterfall, but I hear it as clearly as if she said it right into my ear.
“Yeah?”
“How can my heart be so broken and I want . . .”
The unspoken part of her sentence sends something hard and sharp tugging at my heart and piercing my lungs. I can’t breathe. I want too much with Mia, and I don’t trust my instincts. I want to believe I’m the thing she wants, but maybe she was thinking something entirely different.
She shifts onto her knees and presses her palm against my bare chest. “Do you ever wonder if things would have been different if you’d kissed me the day we met?” She swallows. “Or if Brogan had never seen my phone number on Bailey’s door?”
There’s no hiding how I feel when her hand is pressed over my pounding heart, but I’m ashamed to admit it. All I can do is cover her hand with mine and close my eyes. “He’s a fucking idiot for screwing this up. You’re the best thing he’s ever had.”
Mia
I’m a hypocrite. Brogan cheated on me with Trish, and I mentally called him the ugliest names I could think up. And now—hours later—I’m wishing Arrow would kiss me.
We broke up. Sure. But is my being with Arrow really all that different than what Brogan did with Trish?
I love Brogan, and surely my heart hasn’t caught up with my brain yet, but it had a head start. I’ve been harvesting feelings for Arrow for too long, locking them away and hoping they’d disappear. When Brogan let Trish touch him, he didn’t just break my heart. He broke that lock.
Arrow’s skin is hot, the muscles on his chest so solid I want to map them with my fingers. His hand rests softly over mine, but I want it in my hair, behind my neck.
“I’m sick of feeling guilty about being attracted to you.” The words surprise me. I didn’t mean to tell my secret, but without the lock on my heart, I don’t have the strength to hold it in.
“Mia.” His voice is rough, gravelly, and carries more than words.
If there was a moon tonight, I’d be able to see his eyes, read what he’s feeling, but maybe I don’t want to know. There’s so much unsaid between us that I’ve started mentally composing his thoughts without even realizing it. What if I’ve been wrong about how he feels?
The answer is delivered in the form of his kiss. I’ve wanted this for so long without admitting it to myself, and I hold my breath as he lowers his mouth. He tilts my chin up as his lips sweep over mine in that first forbidden touch. He sweeps a second time, more of a brushing of skin than a kiss, and when our mouths finally press together, I’m a contradiction of emotions. I want to melt with the longing and want and the heat of a long-held secret fantasy fulfilled. And at the same time I want to freeze with the horror of what we’re doing. My mind travels too fast, jumping the cart miles ahead of the horse and zipping through thousands of outcomes, none of them good.
But when Arrow’s tongue traces the seam of my lips and touches mine, I don’t care about outcomes anymore. The cold, hard rock under my knees roots me to this moment, and darkness erases every moment before and beyond this.
Arrow’s kiss is soft and tentative. His fingers trace along the side of my neck. His calloused hands send goosebumps racing up