Page 56 of Lost Love on 6th Street

She giggles. “You’ve been telling me that this is what friends do for each other! How am I supposed to know if it’s southern hospitality or—you know, something more?”

“Let me make it incredibly clear, then,” I say.

Eleanor’s lips part, eyes widen. As much as I’d like to kiss her, I haven’t gotten this far to ruin it with overenthusiasm. I grab one of her hands in mine and lift it to my mouth. With our eyes locked, to be sure there is no mistaking what I’m about to do for “friendship,” although that would be a logical leap for anyone, I kiss the back of her hand.

God, it’s only the back of her hand, but it makes my stomach swoop. My eyes flutter shut as I plant the kiss there like seeds that will bloom in springtime. Every part of her needs to know from this kiss what I’ve wanted from the moment I laid eyes on her.

I could remain there forever. I could kiss the length of her arm, all the way to her neck, up to her mouth, and taste every part of her.

Slow, Luke. Slow.

I tear my lips from her and push her hand up against my chest.

Eleanor’s face is still painted with shock. “Well, you’re not wrong. That was incredibly clear.”

I chuckle, but I say nothing. With my free hand, I tilt the brim of her hat back, then pinch her chin between my fingers, angling her face perfectly toward mine. Her lips are either going to take me to heaven or pull me into hell. I welcome either outcome.

“Luke,” Eleanor says. Though my name is a single syllable, her voice still trembles.

“Eleanor,” I echo.

Her eyes flick across my face. Not the welcome expression of a person about to receive a kiss from someone they are presumably attracted to. She’s scared. “We can’t go back. If you do this, we can’t go back.”

I laugh, extend my hand against her cheek and drag my fingers through the curls. “Why would I want to go back?”

“Because you might change your mind.”

“It’s a kiss, Eleanor, not a contract.”

Her cheeks flush: she turns her face out of my hand.

I make a fist of my empty hand and place it reluctantly in my lap. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I—no, it’s not you. It’s me. I’m—” Eleanor places her hand against her face and rubs at her eye. “I’m afraid to get hurt.”

“Well, I can’t promise anything, but that’s the last thing I want to do, Nor.” I hold tight to her hand against my chest so she can’t pull that away too.

“If I tell you why I’m scared, I’m afraid you’ll freak out.”

“Nothing scares me.”

She scrunches her nose with a smile. “Shut up.”

“When it comes to you, nothing. I swear.” Though I swear out loud, there’s a pang in my heart knowing that there is one think I’m terrified of with her. My little white lie that’s grown into a big fat one.

Ignore it.

“Swear,” I repeat. “You hear me?”

Eleanor nods. “I hear you.”

The fire crackles.

“My ex-boyfriend cheated on me. For, like, months,” she says and then has the gall to laugh at herself.

“Oh, god Nor, I’m sorry.” I’ve been pretty damn lucky not to come up against that even though most people I know have dealt with cheating in one form or another. Because of that, I’ve never worried about infidelity. But I can only imagine how hard it would be to let someone in if you’re scared that they’ll hurt you like that again.

She shakes her head, looking away. “It’s stupid now.”

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