Page 28 of Mended Hearts

“Valid point. But…”

“But?” she prompted when I trailed off. “You’re even cuter when you panic.”

“You’re…”

“I never said I hadn’t locked lips, Ollie.”

“Yeah. But…”

“Breathe.”

“Did you—did it—are you—we?—”

“Good job. That was sentence-adjacent.”

I finally managed, “Did it mean anything? Your—um—the kiss?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Not the question I asked.”

“Nope. It’s the oneIdid.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes rounded. “Yes?”

“What would you say if I did? What would you say if I told you I’ve wanted to do that since the moment you confronted Greyson?”

“I’d probably tell you I’ve wanted to do that since you took me out for sushi to conspire together after we left.”

“This whole time?” Equal parts elation and terror clogged my windpipe.

She felt like skydiving. Like BASE jumping without knowing if you packed the right chute.

“I told you,” she said coyly, her smile twisting into something devastating. “I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to kiss Oliver Hart.”

“That wasn’t an accurate representation,” I protested. “You blindsided me.”

“KissingOliver Hart,” she clarified. “Notbeing kissedby you.”

“Oh, so the plan was always to shock the shit out of me?”

“Maybe,” she said playfully.

“And what if I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to kiss Leighton Rhodes?”

“I’d say you’re painfully slow off the mark.”

“Ouch.”

Only once I was done miming being shot—earning a trill of nervous laughter—did I smirk back at her.

On one last steadying breath, I scooted forward. Raised my hands to her cheeks. Relished in the slide of our skin as I shifted to hold her neck. In the breathy little sigh that poured from her, as her lashes fluttered closed and her full lips parted.

I held steady, just a hair’s breadth away from her mouth. Not out of hesitation. But just to draw it out. Just to savor the dream-state I was clearly trapped in.

She moved first. Of course, she wouldn’t wait for me.

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