Page 41 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind

Something with black lettering.

Something suspiciously…t-shirt-like.

Yes, I realize with a stab of horror. That is my fangirl t-shirt dangling from Soren’s pinched fingers. The ridiculous one that Gemma made for me.

The one that saysI WANT TO MARRY S. MACKENZIEin big, bold letters.

Because within five minutes of me blurting out that his hand feels amazing on my skin, of course something like this would happen. How did he even find that shirt? I buried it.

My gaze travels from the shirt to Soren’s face, my heart thumping a little too quickly, heat flooding my body. Forget pressing my freezer meal to my cheeks; I’m going to dump the tray of ice cubes down my shirt.

I shut the freezer and move back to the couch like I’m in some sort of trance, my eyes wide, my steps shuffling. Soren is staring at the t-shirt with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, and he’s opening his mouth like he’s about to speak, and this is not good. This is not good atall.

Would it be the end of the world if he knew I was his number one fan? No. But telling him that feels as personal as telling someone you have feelings for them. It’s basically confessing that I’m halfway in love with his mind. Plus, how would I even explain that I don’treallywant to marry him—it was a stupid joke my best friend thought was hilarious?

I’m not ready for that conversation.

So I do the first thing I can think of.

And look. It’s not a smart move. It’s certainly not the most rational move.

But I am a desperate woman.

So just like when I kicked the doctor in the gut at the hospital…I launch myself at Soren, purely on instinct.

I know—Iknow. It’s stupid. But all I can think of is that I have to get that t-shirt out of his hands, and I have to distract him. And for some reason my tired, humiliated, overheated brain takes this input and translates it asMust jump on Soren.

So to Soren I go, in one flying leap, like an awkward baseball player trying to reach home plate. I crash into him, myoomphmixing with his startled yelp as we both go down, tumbling to the ground in a chaotic heap of limbs and swear words.

“What the—hey,” he says from his position beneath me. I blink my eyes open, terrified to move even an inch because our bodies are twisted and tangled in such a way that I really don’t know what I’m touching right now. It puts me in mind of those lotion ads, where it’s a close-up shot of a bunch of skin, and I always find myself wondering what body part I’m looking at—except now I’m worried about what I might be incontactwith.

I’m a woman on a mission, though, and I will not let this horrifically executed move be for nothing. So I raise my head up—it seems to be resting somewhere over Soren’s right shoulder—except Soren moves at the same time, rolling his body slightly sideways.

And it is at that precise moment, at approximately ten-forty in the morning on the floor of my living room, that Soren Mackenzie and I have our very first kiss—against our wills and certainly against all logic.

Because my mouth has slammed into his withwaytoo much force as we both move simultaneously, our faces colliding. We’re nothing but lips and chins and smooshed noses. I watch as his eyes all but pop out of his head in shock, the mirror of mine doing the same thing. For one terrible second, we’re still and silent, staring bug-eyed at each other—

Until we jerk apart at the same time, yelping loudly into the awkward quiet that permeates the air around us.

I push myself desperately down Soren’s body, heading toward his feet until my face is somewhere closer to his pecs.

We just kissed we just kissed we just—the t-shirt!I lift myself to my elbows so that I can get a better look around—

There.Pink t-shirt at three o’clock, still grasped loosely in Soren’s hand. I snatch at it, catching him off guard and retrieving it with no problems. Then I fling it wildly away, launching it blindly behind me. I hear it land softly a good distance away, and then…silence.

Silence, except for the sounds of my labored breathing mingled with Soren’s.

Slowly, carefully, I bring my eyes back to the man I’m currently squashing. My gaze finds that right pectoral first, then travels up, up, neck, beard, nose…until I meet the stormy, confused stare of a man who hasquestions.

“Hi,” I say breathlessly, because I have no idea how I’m going to explain this.

“Hi,” he grunts. There’s a pause, then he says, “Want to get off me?”

But he doesn’t wait for me to move. Instead he grips my upper arms firmly in a surprising display of strength andliftsme, separating our upper bodies and then dropping me flat on my face right next to him so that I’m pretty much eating carpet.

I guess I deserve that.

I’m not mad about it, either. Maybe I could stay here for a while—like maybe forever—so I don’t have to make eye contact with anyone ever again, least of all Soren.

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