Page 60 of The Lineman

I ignored him, still spiraling. “And then we kissed.”

Mateo hummed. “And?”

I stared up at the sky.

“And it was the best kiss of my life.”

The words hung there, heavy, undeniable.

“Well . . . fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Like . . .Pretty Womangood?”

I exhaled, finally sitting on a bench down the street from my house.

“Julia’s probably a little moist tonight and can’t figure out why.”

“Shit.”

“I know.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?”

“Well, fuck me if I know. One minute, we’re making out like teenagers at a drive-in, the next, I’m tearing up and he’s cupping my cheek and telling me he’s got me.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Exactly! We went from kissy-kissy, humpy-humpy to ‘hold me and make me feel safe’ in two seconds flat!”

“Jesus. You’re screwed.”

“Thank you, wise one.” I let out a dry laugh. “The problem is, I think I—”

I stopped.

Because I couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t even think it.

Mateo, because he was annoyingly perceptive, caught onto it anyway.

His voice softened. “Mike.”

I dragged a hand over my face. “I wasn’t supposed to feel like this yet.”

Mateo sighed. “You can’t control that shit.”

“He’s not exactly the deep and meaningful type . . . but he is, damn it. I think he actually is . . . once you peel back the layers of granitelike muscle. I don’t know, Mateo. I just wanted this to be fun, you know? Easy.”

“But it’s not.”

I swallowed hard. “No.”

“And you don’t want to stop.”

“Hell no.”

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