Page 67 of Hypothetical Heart
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him when he opens yet another tab to research the third topic. “You have your own work to do.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he says, and when he looks up, our noses are practically touching.
Yet, neither of us makes an attempt to move away from the other, almost like the closeness has left us in a trance, and neither of us can look away.
I don’t want to say something in fear of breaking the spell we both seem to be under, but the longer we stare at one another, acting like something is going to happen, the more I get the feeling that nothing is going to happen.
In a split second, I make the decision to move back, but right before my body does what my brain is telling it to, Logan starts to move closer, and I can no longer obey what the rational part of my head is begging me to do.
As he gets closer, my blood gets warmer, and it takes everything in me not to break out in a smile at the mere thought of what could happen when he’s getting just close enough.
Involuntarily, I move closer too, adjusting my legs to the side so our knees don’t bump. I’m not sure if either of us has a complete grasp on what we think is about to happen, but it doesn’t matter, we’re both moving solely on instinct.
And milliseconds before our lips are close enough to touch, the bell above the door rings, not only signaling that someone has entered the store but also breaking the silence we were entranced in and forcing the two of us to break apart. I almost just kissed Logan Callaghan in the middle of my favorite bookstore.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying to avoid the awkwardness that is bound to plague me.
Logan only shrugs as if there’s nothing embarrassing about the situation. “I’m not.”
The moment of silence that follows sits between us like a bomb, and the pin is in my hand. I don’t know what this means for us, but I find myself thinking that so frequently it barely rattles me anymore.
I see every act of the universe that separates us as purposeful, and whatever that means, I’m not willing to take any chances.
21
“Will you kiss me?” The question makes me jolt upward from where I’m lying in bed.
“What?” I ask, looking at the frazzled girl in front of me, the same one who just burst through my bedroom door.
“You heard what Madame Bacri said at practice today,” Winnie says, stepping further into my room. “If we’re going to have to kiss in front of hundreds of strangers anyway, I’d rather it not be for the first time.”
I shake my head, trying to clear my consciousness in order to process what she’s asking.
Winnifred Carter wants me to kiss her. But only because Madame Bacri suggested that we kiss at the end of our dance. She claimed it would give us a wow factor that no one else would have.
Winnie didn’t seem to be on board when she mentioned it during practice, which is why I had dropped the idea. I don’t want to kiss her if she doesn’t want to kiss me.
“You seriously want to kiss me right now?” I try to hold back my laugh.
“Yeah,” she answers plainly. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. It would strictly be practice.”
“Oh, so you think I need practice kissing?” I tease, and her cheeks flame. She mutters something in return, but it’s so quiet that I don’t hear. “What was that?”
“No, but I do,” she repeats the tiniest bit louder, looking down at the floor.
I sense the shift from joking to serious as I stand from my bed, making my way toward her.
“Look at me,” I tell her, and when she does, I ask, “Have you never been kissed before?”
“Don’t make this embarrassing,” she says, trying to look back down, but I reach out to grab her chin.
“There’s nothing embarrassing about it. It’s just a question.” I try to convey how sincere I am, but she still seems unsure. “Do you want to hear about my first kiss?”
She cringes. “No, not really.”
I’m relieved by her response because telling Winnie about the time I meaninglessly kissed a girl at a party during my sophomore year of high school is something I hope I never have to do. “Good, because I didn’t want to tell you.”
She laughs. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”
