Page 51 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

“Yeah?”

Before I can stop myself, I’m grasping her face between my palms and pressing my lips to hers. She freezes, and I quickly peek at her face, thinking that maybe she’s horrified. But her eyes are closed, her long lashes resting against her freckled cheeks, and I feel like I’ve just won the Olympic gold medal when she relaxes, my jeans tightening alarmingly fast as she breathes a sigh against my lips.

I pull away and watch in fascination as her eyelids flutter open. Her lips are cherry red, and all I can think about is pressing them back to mine.

“Key?”

“I’m definitely not gay,” I insist breathlessly.

Her eyes scan my face before they drop to my mouth and I swallow hard.

“I believe you,” she whispers.

I back up, taking a deep breath. “Good.”

She looks away, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, and I turn while I attempt to deflate the blood-hungry bulge in my pants. After a few painfully awkward moments of silence, she rolls back her shoulders, pouts her lips, and bats her eyelashes. “So, about those songs . . .”

How can I possibly say no? “Okay, but just one.”

She grins, and the tightness in my throat eases. “It doesn’t have to be ‘Neon Crush’.”

I huff out a breath and place the guitar over my lap again. “Yes, it does.”

I start to strum the guitar, and her head sways a little to the tune. I don’t need the paper to know every word, every chord, every key change. When it comes to her and music, my mind is like a vault. Memorizing every detail of her face and the songs she inspires. Her narrow, freckled nose, the subtle shimmer to her pale skin, the tiny flecks of silver in her blue eyes. And that smell—her strawberry hair. I start to sing and over the course of the song, watching from the corner of my eye as her face changes from happily watching to intense focus.

Maybe this is for the best. Summer’s almost over and I never know when she might disappear. She’s like a beautiful tornado. Touching down throughout my life with no warning and only for a brief time. Stirring up chaos and unrest but also the most excitement I’ve ever felt. Maybe I’m a tornado chaser. Maybe I always will be for her.

I never know if the time I have with her will be the last. At least this way . . . she’ll know.

My heart is pounding by the time I strum the last chord, and the two of us sit silently in the cabin after the music fades out. I peek up at her to find her eyes downcast and her hands wringing in her lap.

“Dusty?”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

I frown when I see the tear trickle down her cheek.

“She must be an amazing girl,” she continues. “The one you wrote that about.”

I may never know where my bravery comes from, but I reach forward to wipe the tear from her cheek, her wet eyes looking up into mine. “She is.”

She shakes her head. “You think that . . . but it’s not true.”

“It’s true to me.”

A breathy laugh rushes out of her. “She should feel very lucky to have you care about her this way.”

“She’s the most important person in the whole world to me.”

Dusty’s blue eyes dart over my face. “Really?”

I nod. “Really.”

She smiles and her face glows. “You are too.”

This time, she leans forward and kisses me. This time, I don’t have to peek. Her kiss is gentle yet insistent and she tastes like butterscotch candy. My heart is beating so fast I wonder if it’s fatal. If I’ll die here attached to her lips, then fall down to hell. But her kiss is by far the greatest happiness of my life, so I stifle down every awful thought and kiss her back until I’m lightheaded. She’s not acting this time. She’s kissing me for real. Because she wants to, not because she’s a character in a movie or because I need to prove I’m not gay.

After what feels like an instant and forever, she pulls back, her eyes fluttering in that gorgeous way they do as she looks at me. A smile grows on her face and I can’t help but smile back.

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