“Good thoughts or bad?”
“Why would I have bad thoughts about you?” The little scalloped edges of her white top highlight an innocence, matching her face, but then she wears tight black pants with it, keeping me guessing. That’s just it. I can’t get a solid read on her.
She seems to be good deeds and sin, carefree but measured. She’s become a riddle I want to solve.
Her eyes follow the people walking behind me when her shoulders pop up and then drop. Her eyes come back to me, and she says, “I don’t know. I don’t know you well enough to know what you think about me.”
“That’s just it. I want us to get to know each other better.” She rocks back, so I take her wrists and move closer. “I like making out with you—”
“Hey, Josh.”
Shit. Talk about bad timing. “Hey,” I mumble, catching Trish’s eyes still on me when she passes. One date two years ago didn’t lead anywhere, but that never looks good to other women, which usually ends badly for me.
But Chloe’s standing there like we weren’t interrupted. As much as that fascinates me, we’re running short on time.
“You were flattering me with sweet nothings of I like making out with you. I’m sensing a but coming.”
“But I want to spend more time with you.”
Smiling, she moves in even closer. Her lips so close, our height difference the only discrepancy. “That’s a good but.”
I’ve been dying to touch her all day, feeling the urge to wrap myself around her—feel her against me. As I take hold of her hip, we both shift our middles closer, and an urge begins to churn deep inside. Fuck me, she’s driving me wild. I have to use my head, but my heart is suddenly going crazy in my chest—nerves kicking in. What if she says no? What if making out is all she wants from me? What if we’re only hooking up, and I’m reading this all wrong?
Her chest rises and falls, each breath seeming to anticipate what I have to say.
Fuck. I gulp so embarrassingly loud. I’m either doing this, or I’m not. Spit it out, Evans. “I have to work tonight, but I was wondering if you’d like to get together this weekend?”
“You’re asking me out?”
“Or in. Whatever you like. I just want to spend time with you.”
I’m fairly certain I hear her gulp this time as she takes hold of a dry part of my shirt with her free hand, holding me closer. Blood pumps through my veins like a race car. Judging by the lust in her eyes, I’m thinking I didn’t fuck this up entirely. “I’d love to spend more time with you, Joshua. We should kiss on it.”
“Stop stealing my lines, lady.” Before she tries to control this like the other times she so sexily stole my lips for her own purposes—completely to my benefit, I might add—I kiss her. I want her to feel how she’s made me feel this week—alive and not shy to show affection to someone I’ve started caring about. I want to be the one who kissed her right here for everyone to see, to show her what she means to me. She’s not just another girl; she’s the one who has captured my imagination.
I kiss her again. And again, as I run my hands over her ribs, touching, exploring, memorizing how much space she takes up—not much—her body slacks against mine. Her lips soften in greeting and then firm when she kisses me, her tongue exploring my mouth as much as I taste the heat of what’s in store the next time we’re alone.
Pushing her hair back, I deepen the kiss, making sure that every part of her remembers me. If she deserves anything from this, it’s to be kissed like we’re the only two people in the world.
The sound of shuffling feet behind me signals that our time is up. She lowers down, flat on her feet, and whispers, “I need to go. I have to run to class.”
I don’t want her to go. I want to spend time with her right now, but I know it’s impossible. Exhaling a deep breath, I put space between us and nod. “So do I.”
“I’ll see you this weekend?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Lifting onto her tiptoes once more, she kisses my cheek, her lips searing my skin so I won’t forget how this felt either. “Bye, Joshua.”
“Bye, Chloe.” I watch her walk away, occasionally glancing back until she turns a corner after a little wave.
I go to the fountain and splash my face, needing to cool down. My mind has kicked into overdrive, wondering why everything feels so different with her . . . this year.
Somehow, I hadn’t noticed how heavy my thoughts had become until the lightness she brings swept through me. But as much fun as it has been kissing Chloe, I kind of want to know everything about her. I want to know what she eats for breakfast. I want to know what she wants out of life. What would she bring to a desert island? This is the shit that fills my head, and I want to know everything. All of it.
She goes against everything I figured she would be, yet she’s exactly who she says she is. The facts are that I know little about her other than she’s a senior from Newport who has a bonsai tree. Having two out of three in common doesn’t justify how I’m starting to feel about her. I mean, shit, before we kissed outside the diner, I thought the girl hated me.
I’ve spent more time with her in my head than I have in person, so none of this makes sense to me. Like why does it seem like she just discovered the joys of kissing? Like she’s never known what it feels like to lose your body in someone else’s. For us, every brush of our lips is a bit or piece of us sharing something more. Or maybe she’s wild like a preacher’s daughter—prim and proper on the streets and a vixen in the sheets.
My gut tells me that’s not the case, but what do I know these days? I’ve been skating by on charm and half-assing it for the past year at Yale. I have to get my act together.
After I hang up my apron and go to clock out, I find Bryant filling a cup full of soda to go while Todd swivels on a stool at the counter. Todd and Bryant have been my closest friends since kindergarten. If a fight over Becky Norris didn’t break us up back in the sixth grade, no one’s coming between us now. “What else is in that cup?”
“Whiskey,” Bryant replies. “Did you have a doubt?” If there was one kid in school who everyone wanted to be friends with, it was Bryant Eldridge. Not because he was the star football player (that title still belongs to me), or could get any girl he wanted (okay, me as well), but because he was the coolest guy around. Friends with everyone, easily entertained, and the most laid-back person I know.
Todd says, “We’re heading to the lake. You in?” Todd Berenger knows his way around this city. He’s sixth generation New Haven and lives on the other side of the proverbial tracks. I’m not saying he’s from money, but they’re not doing too bad. His parents also cut him off financially a few years back when he decided he wanted to take some time off to figure out what he wants to do with his life. He still doesn’t know.
They both deliver for the diner part time and the pizza joint around the corner. Which has me thinking about Chloe again. I haven’t delivered food in well over a year, but when Todd’s truck broke down, I had to cover. She was my first back in the saddle again.
I’ve definitely had some deeper thoughts about how that worked out, but I’m not giving in to overanalyzing them. No good would come of it since my path was set years ago. “Who all’s going?” I ask, rubbing my hand over the scruff of my face.