Page 229 of Before We Were

I hesitate, thoughts tumbling over each other, before blurting out, "Why didn't you tell me about Jackson?"

Nate frowns, confusion crossing his features. "Jackson? Who's—" Understanding dawns in his eyes.

"Ollie told me you… beat the shit out of him back when we were kids. Because he teased me about my bangs." The words sound absurd now that I'm saying them out loud. My cheeks burn as I realize how nonsensical I sound.

Nate's low chuckle fills the small space, warm and teasing.

"Wait, are you seriously mad because I beat up some kid for making fun of your bangs—what—ten years ago?"

"I'm not mad!" I throw my hands up, flustered. "I'm… I don't know what I am! It's frustrating and confusing… I feel everything all at once, and I don't know what to do about any of it!"

His grin widens into that infuriatingly charming smirk only he can pull off. He steps closer, eliminating what little space remained between us.

"If I kiss you right now, will it make things better or worse?" His tone walks the line between daring and tender, his eyes dancing with both amusement and something deeper.

My breath catches, my mind going blank. "I… I don't know."

"Well," he murmurs, leaning closer until I can feel his breath on my skin, "can I test the theory?"

The intensity in his gaze is devastating—raw and unguarded, like he's finally letting me see everything he's been holding back.

"All this time?" I whisper, the words barely audible.

"Yes, Leni. All this time," he says softly, the words carrying the weight of years. "All this time, it's been you and only you for me."

The space between us hums with tension, an invisible pull impossible to resist. His lips curve into another smirk as he adds, "You're real cute when you're flustered, you know."

"And you're infuriating when you think you're being charming," I retort, but my voice wavers despite my attempted glare.

I turn to step past him, but his hand catches my wrist, gently spinning me back. He leans in, his eyes darkening with an intensity that sends heat coursing through me.

"The last time we were in a closet together," he murmurs, voice rough, "it was our first kiss."

I blink, confused, then laugh.

"I'd hardly call the spin the bottle kiss a kiss. We were twelve and you missed my mouth. And we weren’t even in a closet."

He laughs, the sound rich and knowing, like he's holding onto a secret. "I'm not talking about that one."

His expression softens, and the change steals my breath. "I'm talking about the one on my seventh birthday. When you kissed me."

My heart stumbles, a long-buried memory crashing into me. "You… you remember that?"

His lips curve into a softer, more intimate smile as his thumb traces gentle circles on my wrist. The touch sends electricity through my veins, igniting something primal in the space between us.

"I told you," he murmurs, his voice deep and deliberate. "I remember everything when it comes to you."

He leans closer, and that intoxicating scent of his fills my lungs, simultaneously dizzying and grounding. His face hovers inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips, and when he speaks again, his voice is a low rasp that makes my stomach flip.

"And from now on, I'll make sure I never miss."

Then his lips find mine.

The kiss starts gentle, like he's asking permission. But within seconds, it transforms into something raw and consuming. His mouth claims mine with years of pent-up longing, and I'm lost to it—the taste of him, the feel of his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me closer until there's nothing between us but heat. Every nerve ending comes alive as his fingers trail up my back, his touch certain and reverent, like he's mapping territory he's dreamed of exploring.

My hands find their way into his hair, tugging slightly, and the sound that rumbles from his chest is pure satisfaction. We're seconds away from crossing a line there's no coming back from in this tiny, airless utility closet.

And then there’s a knock on the door.

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