“Shit. Fallon! Shit, shit, shit, dammit, shit, shit.”
I hear Ben cursing like a sailor, but I don’t understand why. I feel his hands meet my shoulders. “Fallon the Transient, wake the hell up!”
I open my eyes and he’s sitting up on the bed, running one hand through his hair. He looks pissed.
I sit up on the bed and rub the sleep out of my eyes.
The sleep.
We fell asleep?
I look over at my alarm clock and it reads 8:15. I reach over and pick it up to bring it closer to my face. That can’t be right.
But it is. It’s 8:15.
“Shit,” I say.
“We missed dinner,” Ben says.
“I know.”
“We slept for two hours.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“We wasted two fucking hours, Fallon.”
He looks genuinely distraught. Cute, but distraught.
“I’m sorry.”
He shoots me a look of confusion. “What? No. Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”
“I only slept three hours last night,” I say to him. “I’ve been really tired all day.”
“Yeah,” he says with a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t sleep much last night, either.” He pushes himself off the bed. “What time is your flight?”
“Eleven-thirty.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Like as in three hours from now?”
I nod.
He groans and rubs his hands down his face. “Shit,” he says again. “That means you need to leave.” His hands drop to his hips and he looks down at the floor. “That means I should leave.”
I don’t want him to leave.
But I need him to. I don’t like this panicked feeling that’s building in my chest. I don’t like the words I want to say to him. I want to tell him I changed my mind, that he can have my phone number. But if I give him my phone number, I’ll talk to him. All the time. And I’ll be sidetracked by him and every little text he sends, and every phone call, and then we’ll Skype all the time and before I know it I won’t be Fallon the Transient anymore. I’ll be Fallon the Girlfriend.
The thought of that should fill me with a lot more distaste than it does.
“I should go,” he says. “You probably have a lot to do in the next few minutes so you can get to the airport.”
I don’t really. I’m already packed, but I don’t say anything.
“Do you want me to leave?” I can tell he’s hoping I say no, but there’s so much of me that needs him to go before I use him as an excuse not to move to New York.
“I’ll walk you out.” My voice is small and apologetic. He doesn’t react to my words right away, but he eventually presses his lips into a thin line and nods.
“Yeah,” he says, flustered. “Yeah. Walk me out.”
I slip on the shoes I had laid out to wear to dinner tonight. Neither of us says anything as we reluctantly head to the door. He opens it and walks out first, so I follow behind him. I watch him as he makes his way down the hall in front of me. His hand has a tight grip on the back of his neck, and I hate that he’s upset. I hate that I’m upset. I hate that we fell asleep and completely wasted our entire last two hours together.
We’re almost to the living room when he stops and spins around. Once again, he looks like he’s about to be sick. I stand still and wait for whatever it is he’s about to say.
“It may not be book-worthy, but it’ll have to do.” He takes two quick steps toward me until his hands are in my hair and his mouth is on mine. I gasp in surprise and grab his shoulders, but I immediately fall into step with him and slide my hands to his neck.
He backs me against the wall and his hands and chest and lips are pressed hungrily against mine. He’s gripping my face like he’s afraid to let go and I’m fighting for breath because it’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone, I think I may have forgotten how to do it right. He pulls away long enough for me to inhale and then he’s back and . . . hands and . . . legs and . . . tongue.
Oh, my God, his tongue.
It’s been over two years since someone else’s tongue has been inside my mouth, so I would assume I’d be a little more hesitant than I am. But the second he slides it against my lips, I immediately part them and welcome the warmth of a much deeper kiss. Soft. Mesmerizing. His mouth, coupled with the way his hand is sliding down my arm, is all too much. So much. Good much. So good. I just whimpered.
As soon as the sound leaves my mouth, he’s pressing me harder against the wall. His left hand is caressing my cheek and his right hand is gripping me by the waist, pulling me against him.
I’m finished packing. He doesn’t have to leave right this minute.
Does he?
He really doesn’t. Sex releases endorphins and endorphins keep people awake, so having sex with Ben might actually benefit me before my flight. I haven’t had sex in all my eighteen years put together, so imagine how many endorphins I have built up in here. We could have sex before my flight and I wouldn’t need sleep for days. Imagine how productive I would be when I get to New York.
Oh, my God, I’m pulling him back to my room. If he comes back to my room with me, I won’t be able to tell him no. Am I really willing to have sex with someone I’ll never see again?
I’m crazy. I can’t have sex with him. I don’t even own a condom.
Now I’m pushing him back down the hall, away from my bedroom.
Jesus, he must think I’m crazy.
He shoves me against the wall again and acts like the last ten seconds of indecisiveness never even happened.
I’m dizzy. I’m so dizzy, it feels so good, my mother is crazy. Stupid, insane, absurd, and she’s wrong. Why would a girl care to find herself when she’ll never be able to make herself feel as good as a guy can? Okay, now I’m just being stupid. But Ben is making me feel really good things right now.
He groans and then I freaking lose it. My hands are in his hair and his mouth is all over my neck.
Grab my boob, Ben.
He totally reads my mind and grabs my boob.
Grab the other one.
God, he’s so telepathic.
His lips move from my neck back to my mouth, but his hands are still on my breasts. I’m pretty sure mine are cupping his ass, pulling him even harder against me, but I’m too embarrassed at my behavior right now to acknowledge that.
“I would say get a room, but I thought that’s what the two of you have been doing in there for the past two hours.”
Amber.
What a bitch. I’m beating her up as soon as Ben leaves.
I can’t believe I just had those thoughts. She’s my best friend.
Endorphins are bad. They’re evil and bad and make me think ridiculous thoughts.
Ben pulls his mouth from mine at the sound of her voice. His forehead presses against the side of my head and his hands leave their naturally assumed positions to meet the wall behind me.
I exhale a really, really, really pent-up breath.
“For real though,” Amber says. “Glenn and I can see everything going on in this hallway. I thought I’d intervene before you got pregnant.”
I nod, but I’m unable to speak yet. I think my voice got lost somewhere down Ben’s throat.
He pulls away and looks down at me, and if Amber wasn’t still standing there, I’d be kissing that mouth again.
“Fallon was just walking me out.” His voice is raspy, and it makes me smile, knowing he’s just as physically affected by me as I am by him.
“Uh-huh,” Amber replies. As soon as she disappears from my peripheral vision, Ben grins and his mouth is back on mine. I smile against his lips and grab at his shirt, pulling him closer.
“God, you guys,” Amber groans. “Seriously. It’s five feet back to your bedroom and ten feet to the front door. Make a choice.”
He pulls away again, but this time he pulls all the way away. Like three feet away, until his back meets the wall behind him. His chest is heaving as he runs his hands down his face. He glances back at my bedroom door, and then cuts his eyes to mine. He wants me to make the choice, but I don’t want to. I kind of liked it when he took control and made the decision to kiss me. I don’t want the next decision to be on me.
We stare at each other for what seems like an entire minute. Him wanting me to invite him back to my bedroom. Me wanting him to just push me back in there. Both of us knowing good and well that we should head toward the front door.
He straightens up and shoves his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”
“Amber’s driving me,” I say, somewhat disappointed that I do, in fact, already have a ride.
He nods and rocks back and forth on his feet. “Well, the airport is absolutely not in the direction of my house, but . . . I’ll pretend it is if you want me to drive you.”
Dammit, he’s adorable. His words make me feel all warm and fuzzy, and . . . I’m not a damn teddy bear. I need to suck it up.
I don’t accept his offer right away. Amber and I won’t see each other again until she visits New York in March, so I don’t know if she’d be mad if I told her I’d rather a guy I’ve only known half a day drive me to the airport.
“I don’t mind,” Amber says from the living room. Ben and I both look down the hallway. Glenn and Amber are sitting on the couch, staring at us. “Not only can we see you making out from right here, but we can also hear your conversation.”
I know her well enough to know she’s doing me a favor. She winks at me and when I look back at Ben, there’s a little more hope in his expression. I casually fold my arms across my chest and tilt my head. “You don’t happen to live near the airport, do you?”
His mouth pulls into a grin. “Actually, I do. How incredibly convenient.”
Ben spends the next few minutes helping me with last-minute scrambling. I change out of the dress I had planned to wear and settle on yoga pants and a T-shirt so I’ll be comfortable on the flight. He loads my suitcases in his car as I tell Amber goodbye.
“Remember, I’m all yours during spring break,” she says. She hugs me, but neither of us are the type to cry over a silly goodbye. She knows as well as I do that this move is good for me. She’s been one of my biggest cheerleaders since the accident, hoping I find the confidence I lost two years ago. And living inside this apartment isn’t where that’s going to happen. “Call me in the morning so I know you made it okay.”
We finish our goodbyes and then I follow Ben to his car. He walks around to open the door for me, but before I climb inside I take one last look at my apartment door. It’s a bittersweet feeling. I’ve only visited New York a handful of times and I’m not even sure if it’s something I’ll like. But this apartment is too comfortable, and comfort can sometimes be a crutch when it comes to figuring out your life. Goals are achieved through discomfort and hard work. They aren’t achieved when you hide out in a place where you’re nice and cozy.
I feel Ben’s arms wrap around me from behind. He rests his chin on my shoulder. “You having second thoughts?”
I shake my head. I’m nervous, but I’m definitely not having second thoughts. Yet.
“Good,” he says. “Because I didn’t want to have to throw you in the trunk and drive you all the way to New York.”
I laugh, relieved he’s not like my father, selfishly trying to talk me out of taking this step. He keeps his arms wrapped around me as I turn around, but now I’m leaning against the car and he’s staring down at me. I don’t have much time to spare before I have to be checked in at the airport, but I don’t want to rush getting there when I can soak this up for a few more minutes. I’ll just run to my gate if I’m late.
“There’s a quote that reminds me of you, from Dylan Thomas. My favorite poet.”
“What is it?”
A slow smile warms its way across his mouth. He dips his head and whispers the quote against my lips. “‘I have longed to move away but am afraid; Some life, yet unspent, might explode.’”
Wow. He’s good. And he makes it even better by pressing his warm mouth to mine, holding my face in the palms of his hands. I reach up and thread my hands through his hair, allowing him to have complete control over the speed and intensity of this kiss. He keeps it soft and concise, and I imagine he kisses the same way he writes. Gentle strokes of the keys, each word thought through and completed with purpose.
He kisses me like he wants this kiss to be remembered. For which one of us, I don’t know, but I allow him to take as much as he can from this kiss and I give him as much as I have. And it’s perfect. Nice. Really Nice.
It’s as if he really is my boyfriend and this is something we should be doing all the time. Which brings me back to the fact that being too comfortable can be a crutch. With kisses like these, I could see myself easily falling into Ben’s life and forgetting how to live my own. Which is exactly why I need to follow through with this goodbye.
When the kiss finally breaks, he brushes the tip of his nose against mine. “Tell me something,” he says. “On a scale of one to ten, how book-worthy was our first kiss?”
He has perfect comedic timing. I smile and nip at his bottom lip. “At least a seven.”
He pulls back in shock. “Seriously? That’s all I get? A seven?”
I shrug. “I’ve read some great first kisses.”
He drops his head in mock regret. “I knew I should have waited. I could have made it a ten if I had a plan.” He steps back, releasing me. “I should have taken you to the airport and then as soon as you got to security, I could have dramatically called out your name and run toward you in slow motion.” He mimics the scene in slow motion, moving in place as he reaches an arm out toward me. “Faaallllooooon,” he says in a long, drawn-out voice. “Dooon’t Leeeave Meeeee!” I’m laughing hard when he stops acting out the scene and wraps his arms around my waist again.
“If you would have done it at the airport, it would have been at least an eight. Maybe a nine, depending on believability.”
“A nine? That’s it?” he says. “If that’s a nine, what the hell could make it a ten?”
I think about that. What does make kissing scenes in books so great? I’ve read enough of them, I should know.
“Angst,” I say. “Definitely need some angst to make it a ten.”
He looks confused. “Why would angst make it a ten? Give me some examples.”
I lean my head against the car and stare up at the sky as I think. “I don’t know, it depends on the situation. Maybe the couple isn’t allowed to be together, so the forbidden factor creates the angst. Or maybe they’ve been best friends for years and the unspoken attraction builds enough angst to make the kiss a ten. Sometimes infidelity creates good angst, depending on the characters and their situation.”
“That’s messed up,” he says. “So you’re saying if I were seeing another girl and I kissed you in the hallway like I did, it would have gone from a seven to a ten?”
“If you were seeing another girl, you would have never been inside my apartment to begin with.” I suddenly stiffen at the thought. “Wait. You don’t have a real girlfriend, do you?”
He shrugs. “If I did, would our next kiss be a ten?”
Oh, my God. Please don’t say I just became the other woman.
He sees the fear on my face and he laughs. “Relax. You’re the only girlfriend I have, and you’re about to break up with me and move across the country.” He leans in and kisses me on the side of my head. “Go easy on me, Fallon. My heart is fragile.”
I press my head against his chest and even though I know he’s kidding, part of me can’t help but feel genuinely sad about saying goodbye to him. I read reviews a lot for the audiobooks I narrate, so I’ve seen the comments about how readers would do anything to make book boyfriends real. Here I am, convinced I’m standing in the arms of one, and I’m about to walk away from him.
“When is your first audition?”
He sure does have a lot of faith in me. “I haven’t looked into it yet. Honestly, I’m kind of terrified to audition. I’m scared people will take one look at me and laugh.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“With being laughed at?” I ask. “For one, it’s humiliating. And it’s a confidence killer.”
He looks at me pointedly. “I hope they laugh at you, Fallon. If people are laughing at you, it means you’re putting yourself out there to be laughed at. Not enough people have the courage to even take that step.”
I’m glad it’s dark, because I can feel my cheeks flush. He’s always saying things that seem so simple, yet profound at the same time.
“You kind of remind me of my mother,” I tell him.
“That’s exactly what I was going for,” he says sarcastically. He pulls me against his chest again and kisses me on top of the head. I need to get to the airport, but I try to stall it as long as possible because the looming goodbye is haunting me.
“You think we’ll ever see each other again?”
His arms tighten around me. “I hope so. I would be lying if I said I’m not already plotting to hunt you down when you’re twenty-three. But five years is a long time, Fallon. Who knows what could happen between now and then. Hell, I didn’t even have hair on my nuts five years ago.”
I laugh again, just like I’ve done with almost everything else he’s said today. I don’t know that I’ve ever genuinely laughed this much with one person.
“You really should write a book, Ben. A romantic comedy. You’re kind of funny.”
“The only way I’d be willing to write a romance novel is if you’re one of the main characters. And me, of course.” He pulls back and smiles down at me. “I’ll make you a deal. If you promise to audition for Broadway, I’ll write a book about the relationship we couldn’t have thanks to distance and immaturity.”
I wish he were serious, because I love that idea. If it weren’t for the one glaring flaw. “We’ll never see each other again, though. How would we know if the other stuck to the plan?”
“We hold each other accountable,” he says.
“Again . . . we’ll never see each other after tonight. And I can’t give you my phone number.”
I know better than to give him a way to contact me. There’s too much I need to do on my own and if he had my phone number, my entire focus would be on what time each day he’s supposed to call me.
Ben releases me and takes a step back, folding his arms across his chest. He begins to pace back and forth as he chews on his bottom lip. “What if . . .” He stops and faces me. “What if we meet up again next year on the same day? And the year after that? We’ll do it for five years. Same date, same time, same place. We’ll pick up where we left off tonight, but only for the day. I’ll make sure you’re following through with your auditions and I can write a book about the days we’re together.”
I let his words sink in for a moment. I try to match the serious look on his face, but the prospect of seeing him once a year fills me with anticipation and I’m doing my best not to act too giddy. “Meeting up once a year on the same date sounds like a really good basis for a romance novel. If you fictionalized our story, I’d add it to the top of my TBR.”
Now he’s smiling. So am I, because the thought of being able to look forward to today’s date is something I never thought would happen. November 9th has been an anniversary I’ve dreaded since the night of the fire, and this is the first time the thought of that date leaves me with a positive feeling.
“I’m serious about this, Fallon. I’ll start writing the damn book tonight if it means I’ll get to see you next November.”
“I’m serious, too,” I say. “We’ll meet every November 9th. Absolutely no contact in between, though.”
“That’s fair. November 9th or nothing. And we’ll stop after five years?” he asks. “When we’re both twenty-three?”
I nod, but I don’t ask him what I’m sure we’re both thinking. Which is what happens after the fifth year? I guess that’s worth saving for another day . . . when we see if both of us actually stick to this ridiculous plan.
“I have one concern,” he says, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. “Are we supposed to be . . . you know . . . monogamous? If so, I think we’re both getting a raw deal, here.”
I laugh at his absurdity. “Ben, there’s no way I would ask you to do that for five years. I think the fact that we’ll continue living our own lives is what makes this idea so great. We’ll both get to experience life like we’re supposed to at this age, but we also get to be with each other once a year. It’s the best of both worlds.”
“But what if one of us falls in love with someone else?” he asks. “Won’t that ruin the book if we don’t end up together in the end?”
“Whether or not the couple ends up together at the end of a book doesn’t determine whether that book has a happy ending or not. As long as the two people end up happy, it doesn’t really matter if they end up happy together.”
“What if we fall in love with each other? Before the five years is up?”
I hate that my first thought is how there’s no way he’d ever fall in love with me. I don’t know what I grow more tired of. The scars on my face or the self-deprecating thoughts in relation to the scars on my face. I dismiss the thoughts and force a smile.
“Ben, of course you’re going to fall in love with me. Hence the reason for the five-year rule. We need firm guidelines so our hearts won’t take over until you’ve finished your book.”
I can see the contemplation in his eyes as he nods. We’re both quiet for a moment as we ponder the deal we’ve just made. But then he leans against the car next to me and says, “I’ll need to study up on my romance novels. You’ll need to give me some suggestions.”
“I can absolutely do that. Maybe next year you can take that kiss from a seven to a ten.”
He laughs, resting an elbow on top of the car as he faces me. “So just to be safe, if kissing scenes are something you like most about books, what’s your least favorite thing? I need to know so I don’t screw up our story.”
“Cliff-hangers,” I say immediately. “And insta-love.”
He makes a face. “Insta-love?”
I nod. “When two characters meet and supposedly have this great connection right off the bat.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Fallon, I think we might already be in trouble if that’s one of your least favorite things.”
I think about his statement for a moment. He might be right. It’s been a pretty unbelievable day with him. If he put today in writing, I’d probably roll my eyes and say it was too cheesy and unrealistic. “Just don’t propose to me before my flight and I think we’ll be fine.”
He laughs. “Pretty sure I asked you to marry me when we were on your bed earlier. But I’ll try not to get you pregnant before your flight.” We’re both smiling when he reaches for my door and motions for me to climb inside the car. Once we’re on the road, I open my purse and pull out a pen and paper.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you homework,” I say. “I’ll write down five of my favorite romance novels to get you started.”
It makes me laugh thinking about Ben fictionalizing our story, but I also hope he actually does it. It’s not every day a girl can say she has a genuine work of fiction loosely based on her relationship with the author. “You better make me funnier when you develop my character. And I want bigger boobs. And less flab.”
“Your body is perfect. So is your humor,” he says.
I don’t know why I bite the inside of my cheek like I’m embarrassed to smile. Since when did flattery become embarrassing? Maybe it always has been but I just haven’t been flattered enough to know.
At the top of the list of books, I write down the name of the restaurant and today’s date, in case he forgets. “There,” I say, folding up the paper and sticking it in his glove box.
“Get another piece of paper,” he orders. “I have homework for you, too.” He thinks quietly for a moment and then says, “I have a few things. Number one . . .”
I write down the number one.
“Make sure people laugh at you. At least once a week.”
I scoff. “You expect me to go on an audition every week?”
He nods. “Until you get a role you want, yes. Number two, you need to date. You said earlier that I was the first guy you’ve brought back to your apartment. That’s not enough experience for a girl your age, especially if I’m basing a romance novel on us. We need a little more angst. Go on at least five dates by the time I see you again.”
“Five?” He’s insane. That’s five more than I planned to go on.
“And I want you to kiss at least two of them.”
I stare at him in disbelief. He nudges his head toward the paper in my hands. “Write it down, Fallon. That’s assignment number three. Kiss two guys.”
“Are you about to tell me assignment number four is to find a pimp?”
He laughs. “Nope. Just three assignments. Get laughed at once a week, go on five dates, kiss at least two of them. Piece of cake.”
“For you, maybe.” I write down his stupid assignments and then fold up the paper and put it in my purse.
“What about social media? Are we allowed to Facebook stalk each other?” he asks.
Shit. I hadn’t thought about that, even though I haven’t really utilized social media much in the past two years. I reach over and grab Ben’s phone. “We’ll block each other,” I tell him. “That way we can’t cheat.”
He groans, as if I just foiled his plans. I go through both of our phones and search our profiles, blocking one another on every social media platform I can think of. When I’m finished with that, I hand him back his phone and use mine to call my mother.
I had a really early breakfast with her before she left for work today. The breakfast also doubled as our goodbye. She’ll be in Santa Barbara for two days, which is why Amber was going to drive me to the airport.
“Hey,” I say when she answers the call.
“Hey, sweetie,” she says. “Are you at the airport yet?”
“Almost. I’ll text you when I land in New York, but you’ll be asleep.”
She laughs. “Fallon, mothers don’t sleep when their children are hurtling through the sky at five hundred miles an hour. I’m leaving my phone on, so you better text me as soon as you land.”
“I will, I promise.”
Ben glances at me out of the corner of his eye, probably wondering who I’m talking to.
“Fallon, I’m really happy you’re doing this,” she says. “But I’m going to warn you, I might miss you a lot and I might sound sad when you call, but don’t get homesick. I’ll be fine. I promise. I’m sad that I won’t get to see you as often, but I’m even happier that you’re taking this step. And I promise that’s all I’m going to say about it. I love you and I’m proud of you and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
When I hang up the phone, I catch Ben staring at me again.
“I can’t believe you haven’t introduced me to your mother yet,” he says. “We’ve been dating for ten hours now. If it doesn’t happen soon, I’ll start to take it personal.”
I’m laughing as I shove my phone inside my purse. He reaches over and takes my hand in his and holds it the entire way to the airport.
We’re fairly quiet the rest of the drive. Aside from asking my flight information, the only other thing he says is “We’re here.”
Rather than pull into a parking garage like I was hoping he would, he pulls into the drop-off lane. I feel pathetic that I’m disappointed he didn’t offer to walk me inside, because he drove me all the way to the airport. I can’t be greedy.
He unloads my two suitcases from his trunk and I grab my purse and my carry-on from inside the car. He closes his trunk and then walks over to me. “Have a safe flight,” he says as he kisses me on the cheek and gives me a quick hug. I nod and he makes his way back to his car. “November 9th!” he yells. “Don’t forget!”
I smile and wave, but internally I’m confused and disappointed by the lack of emotion in his goodbye.
Maybe it’s better this way, though. I was kind of dreading having to watch him drive away, but that not book-worthy goodbye somehow made it a little easier. Maybe because I’m kind of pissed about it.
I inhale a deep breath and push it out of my head as I watch his car move away. I grab my suitcases and head inside with not much time to spare before my flight. The airport is still buzzing despite it being so late at night, so I maneuver my way through the crowd and to a kiosk. I print my boarding pass, check my luggage, and make my way to security.
I try not to think about what I’m doing. How I’m about to move from a place I’ve lived my entire life to a city where I know absolutely no one. The thought of it makes me want to call a cab and go straight back to my apartment, but I can’t.
I have to do this.
I have to force myself to make a life before the one I’m not living swallows me whole.
I pull my driver’s license out of my purse and prepare to hand it to the security agent as I wait in line. There are five people in front of me.
Five people is enough time to talk myself out of moving to New York, so I close my eyes and think about everything in New York that I’m excited about. Hot dog stands. Broadway. Times Square. Hell’s Kitchen. The Statue of Liberty. The Museum of Modern Art. Central Park.
“Faaaallooon!”
My eyes flick open.
I turn around and Ben is standing at the revolving door. He begins running toward me.
In slow motion.
I cover my mouth with my hand and try not to laugh as he slowly stretches out an arm like he’s reaching out for me. He’s yelling, “Doooon’t goooo yeeeet!” as he moves slowly through the crowd of people.
People from all directions stop to see what the commotion is all about. I want to dig myself a hole and hide but I’m laughing too hard to care about how embarrassing this is. What in the world is he doing?
When he finally reaches me after what seems like forever, a huge grin spreads across his face. “You didn’t really think I was just going to drop you off and leave like that, did you?”
I shrug, because that’s exactly what I thought just happened.
“You should know your own boyfriend better than that.” He takes my face in his hands. “I had to create angst so I could try to make this kiss a ten.” He presses his mouth to mine and kisses me with so much emotion, I forget all the things. Everything. I forget where I am. Who I am. There’s a guy and I’m a girl and we’re kissing and the feels and the knots in my stomach and the chills on my skin and the hand in my hair and my arms that feel too heavy and now he’s grinning against my lips.
My eyelids flutter open and I didn’t even know kisses could really make eyelids flutter open. But they do and mine did.
“On a scale of one to ten?” he asks.
The room feels like it’s spinning, so I suck in a huge rush of air and try not to sway. “A nine. Definitely a solid nine.”
He shrugs. “I’ll take it. But next year, it’ll be an eleven. Promise.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and releases me. He begins to walk backward and I’m aware of everyone in our vicinity staring at us, but I can’t help but not give a shit. Right before he reaches the revolving door, he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “I hope the entire state of New York laughs at you!”
I don’t think I’ve ever smiled so big. I lift a hand and wave goodbye as he disappears.
It really was a ten.
