Page 52 of Kiss Me, Maybe

“Why do peopledothis?” I shut my eyes when our carriage lurches upward. Krystal reaches for my hand, squeezing in what’s probably meant to be reassurance and nothing else. Only with each new brush of her hand, I have to make a concerted effort to remind my brain she doesn’t feel that way. She wants to bepractice. She’s not capable of anything else, or so she thinks. The wrong relationship suffocated her. Would a relationship with me do the same?

“What is it?” she asks, sensing my unspoken anguish.

“Nothing,” I say too quickly. She tilts her head at me, eyes squinted in a knowing look. “Okay, fine. I’m in my own head again.”

“What else is new?” She shoulder bumps me. “If this is about the other night—”

The carriage lurches to a sudden stop. I jump, bracing a hand over my chest and muttering to myself. Krystal laughs under her breath before placing a hand on my shoulder that does nothing to comfort me.

“I’m not sure if you know this already, but I’ve had a massivecrush on you for years.” I look past her out at the skyline, brilliantly lit up beneath the sunset. She sucks in a breath, the only sound filling my ears. “Pretty sure I came close to admitting as much two years ago.”

“I… didn’t know,” she says. “You were drunk. I didn’t think you meant much by it, but I did take it as a great compliment.”

Mankind has never seen a more beautiful face, I’d said at the time, drunk from five too many vodka shots.I mean, god, would you look at yourself? Krystal, you’re not looking—you’re not looking at your face. Somebody give this woman a mirror.

“I meant it,” I mumble, unable to look away from her. “Every foolish word out of my mouth that night was nothing but the truth.”

Her cheeks turn a perfect shade of rose.

“Isaac broke up with me that night,” she says, and for one dumbfounded moment, all I can do is stare at her. “Before I went in for my shift. You made my day brighter.”

Her warm smile makes my chest ache. I hadn’t known at the time she was seeing someone, not that it mattered. I was never going to make a move on her.

“What do you think about using the top of the Ferris wheel as an alternate location?” She swiftly changes the subject while I’m still processing what she told me. “There’s nothing quite as romantic to me as a fantastic view.”

“Do you want to be part of the scavenger hunt?” I ask. “I’m not above cheating, you know. Especially if it gives you the means to win. If you win the whole thing, it means I get to kiss you.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that to me.” Those dark eyessear into mine. “Not when I already can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?” I ask her. “Joining? Because that’s what I’m saying. You can—”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Kissing you. Sitting here, looking at you, the sunset making your skin glow like a fucking angel I don’t deserve, all I want to do is kiss you.”

The air has been sucked from my lungs, and we’re not even touching. I can’t look away from her. I’ve imagined this moment far too many times to count. Of our heads leaning forward until our noses graze, until we’re breathing the same air, until our lips finally touch.

I’m about to get what I want. All I have to do is move. I can get away with one kiss before the scavenger hunt, can’t I? If I don’t have a plan in place yet, it might not even go on at this point, so there’s no issue. Right?

“Angela.” Her breath is warm against my cheek. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I’m sure. My heart is pounding and my palms are slick with sweat, but I’ve never been surer of anything. Just as I’m about to nod, make the plunge, dosomething, our carriage pitches forward, breaking the spell and bringing us both back down to earth.

We’re silent for the rest of the ride. As much as I try to tell myself it’s better that we didn’t do it, regret fills every inch of me. This was my chance, and I blew it. Hesitated with the lurch of the carriage, too afraid to take the leap. I almost turn my head to look at her, conjure that moment back, but instead I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and breathe out a sigh.

It’s for the best.Maybe I won’t even like kissing, despite all the daydreams I’ve had romanticizing the act. Maybe it’ll be too much tongue and saliva for my liking, and hating it will disrupt our relationship so much that we never talk to each other again. Or maybe I’ll like it too much, the same way I likehertoo much. Maybe I’ll kiss her and be completely ruined for kissing anyone else.

To have my feelings returned is like someone starting a wildfire inside my chest. I’m burning with want. I could so easily fall in love with her, if she’d let me.

I want her to let me.

I want everything I shouldn’t.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks once we’re back on the sidewalk, concern brimming in her brown eyes. Does she regret admitting as much as she did? As much as we both did?

I shake my head, clearing away the regret over our second almost-kiss. It would’ve complicated everything. This is better. We have no business kissing when we want completely different things. It’s not even worth bringing up.

“I was thinking about your thing for views,” I say instead.

“Okay.” She chuckles slightly. “What about them?”

---