Page 70 of Jump-Start
“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Leonard steps back, his earlier smirk reappearing on his face. “We’re leaving in three minutes. Hurry up,” he says, dropping his hands to my ass for the briefest second before turning me around by my hips and back into the bathroom.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I reply, but he mumbles something I don’t understand with a little groan, and I turn to see his tense shoulders as he stares down at his phone outside of the bathroom. A wicked grin spreads across his face. “What?” I ask, and he looks up at me with satisfaction.
“You called me ‘handsome’,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“Did not,” I lie, and he holds up the google translator he used to find out whatprestantemeans.
“You sure did. You think I’m handsome,” he says with a little grin I’ve never seen on his face before. It’s so unlike his usual gruff expression, it knocks the air out of me for a moment.
“You also think you’re handsome, so it cancels out,” I tease, and he huffs out a laugh.
“Go put on that lipstick I want smeared across me later,” he says so nonchalantly, he could be telling me how many degrees it is right now. If you ask my skin, it’s about fifty degrees celsius in here.
I decide on a dark pink lipstick that has Leonard’s gaze glued to my lips for several minutes after I walk out of the bathroom. After a deep breath he probably thinks I can’t see him inhale, he turns on his heel and disappears into his room of the penthouse. He returns with a polaroid camera—my polaroid camera, the one he bought me after someone broke into my apartment—and places it on the counter. Leonard adjusts it a few times before stepping back and taking my hand.
“What are you—” He cuts me off as he tucks me into his side and drapes his arm over my back, so he can place his hand on my hip.
“Making memories, nowshushand smile,” he says, and I do as I’m told before the camera clicks and the photo is taken. I step out of his embrace and glare at him.
“Did you justshushme?” I ask, and he gives me another grin.
“Yes. I was trying to get a nice picture,” he explains as he walks over to study the little picture printed out of the camera. I cock an eyebrow at his backside.
“Why?”Why is he doing all of this? Why are we going on a date? Why does he have feelings for me?These are all very good questions I know I won’t get an answer to, at least not from him.
“Because I’m not in your album,” he mumbles, causing realization to dawn on me.
“You’ve looked through my album?”
It contains every little polaroid photo I’ve ever taken in my life. Everyone I love is in there, including a candid photo of Leonard in his GoKart when he was fourteen and I was ten. So, maybe he didn’t look through it after all, otherwise he’d know he’s in it, and it’s one of my most treasured photos. Not that I’d ever admit it to him. I’d die before I tell him I’ve looked at a picture I took of him after he won the karting championship a thousand times over the years. He was just so happy that day, sweat dripping down the sides of his face, hair everywhere, a trophy in his hands.
“No, but I can put two and two together, Chiara,” Leonard says, making a wave of guilt spread through me.
He thinks all I’ve had for him over the years has been hatred, but… that isn’t true. He’s been an asshole since I can remember. He’s also a major pain in the ass, and we’ve fought more times than I could keep count, but he’s always been my jerk. My life would have never been complete if he hadn’t shown up. More often than not, I dreaded conversations with him, and still I wanted more because he somehow understood me in a way no one else did or does.
Which is why I let out a groan as I step into my room and grab the album I take with me everywhere. My hands shake as I bring it back outside to where a very confused Leonard is standing, watching me with curious eyes.
“When you put two and two together, was the answer four? Because I don’t think so,” I say as I open the album to the picture of him with his trophy.
“Chiara,” he starts but swallows so hard, the rest of his sentence gets lost in the world of forgotten words.
“Yeah, you can make fun of me for having that picture of you from fourteen years ago now, but I needed to prove you wrong,” I say and cross my arms in front of my chest.
Leonard’s fingers pull the photo out of the plastic and trail over the old and worn material with a serious, intense look on his face. He sucks in a sharp breath and then lets it back out, his chest shaking a little as he does it. I’m about to ask him if he’s okay when he places the picture back into the protective case and rests it next to the camera on the counter. He takes two strides toward me and cups my face, kissing me until my knees wobble.
There is desperation and an overwhelming amount of emotion in his kiss. It feels like he’s telling me everything with the way he nibbles on my bottom lip and then wraps his lips around mine again. I don’t know exactly what his feelings are—I couldn’t name them even if I tried—but I can taste them.
“Do you understand?” he asks a little breathlessly, and I open my eyes to look up at him. His thumbs caress my cheekbones until heat fills them even more than his kiss did.
“Yes,” I reply because I do. He was trying to tell me what his heart is experiencing, what I’m putting it through, and I’m glad to see it’s the same thing mine is trying to deal with at the moment.
“Good, it’s important.”
His hands drop to my neck and shoulders, which he squeezes once and then steps away. His eyes remain on me for a little longer, but then he shakes his head and lets out a humorless laugh.
“Bloody hell, Chiara. My head’s spinning,” is all he says as he walks away toward where his keys and wallet are. Leonard grabs the camera too and then holds out his hand for me. “Come, sweetheart. I would like to make some more memories with you,” he says, and I don’t hesitate.
I take his hand and allow myself to let the meteorite go wherever it wants to strike.
