Page 54 of I Would Stay Forever
“We don’t go as long on Tuesdays,” he said with a shrug. “Figured I’d come see what all the fuss was about.”
I wasn’t sure it ever would have occurred to me to go watch his football practices, and I wasn’t sure what that said about me—or about him. That he’d decided to spend his free time here with me instead of going home or waiting around for Sebastian. Just the thought of my brother now made a knot twist in my chest, both because of our argument and because of what Dean being here meant. Sebastian sometimes came by after my volleyball practices. He wasn’t likely to now, not with me giving him the cold shoulder and him being back with Tiffany who liked to use up all his time and attention.
Had Dean thought about that at all? We still hadn’t told Sebastian about our project, which meant we didn’t even have that excuse to fall back on. A week ago, that hadn’t seemed like a big deal since Dean and I hardly ever saw each other outside of studying, but if he was going to be showing up out of the blue like this, we needed to talk about it.
“Where does my brother think you are right now?” I asked.
Dean’s grin faltered at the question. “Why does it matter?”
That was enough for me to know that Sebastian didn’t know Dean was here and Dean knew why he shouldn’t be. I glanced around the now almost-empty gym and jumped to my feet.
“If anyone sees us here like this?—”
“They’ll what?” Dean asked, also getting to his feet. He leaned in to whisper mockingly. “Tell Sebastian we’re hanging out?”
I glared at him. “It’s not funny and you know it.”
Dean sighed and dropped his chin. “I know. I’m just getting sick of sneaking around so he doesn’t see.”
“You’re the one who said he would have a problem.”
“It’s not like you disagreed.”
I sighed and glanced away. He was right, of course. I was the one who’d started this argument in the first place. But I’d also meant it when I told him that I wouldn’t let Sebastian rule my life, and I felt especially strong about that now that he and I were barely speaking anyway.
“I don’t want to feel like we have to hide,” I whispered. I felt so overdramatic saying it. What was there even to hide? A friendship? I was acting like Dean and I were together, the way that Zoey kept insinuating. Maybe this was my heart trying to make itself known, reminding me that I did want Dean to be more than a friend. But if we couldn’t even meet up as friends, how could we possibly ever date?
Dean brushed his fingers under my chin then tilted my head up to face him. Shivers ran up and down my spine as I looked into his deep blue eyes.
“Then we don’t hide,” he murmured. My heart pounded, wild and unsteady, so loud it felt like he could hear it too. His lips brushed against mine, so soft and sweet that I thought might die, and something fluttered deep inside me. His hand slid to the side of my face, fingers slipping into my hair, and I leaned into him as his mouth moved against mine. He was being so gentle,like he was asking permission with every breath. And I gave in without a second thought. I pressed closer, my hands finding the edge of his shirt, the fabric soft beneath my fingertips, grounding me even as everything else spun.
He tasted like cinnamon gum and he smelled like the sea, just like he had that night at the party. He tilted his head slightly, and our mouths fit together more naturally—deeper, warmer. His other hand found my waist, firm but careful, holding me like I might slip away. The heat between us was immediate, unmistakable, like every moment we’d had together dialed up to one hundred. Every shift, every breath, every small movement sent a new rush of adrenaline through me.
He pulled back for a breath, but before I could even begin to process what had just happened, he kissed me again. My knees went weak and I fell into his body, so solid and real in front of me, so unlike the daydreams I’d had. The scent of his skin—clean, like soap and sweat from practice—filled my nose, anchoring me in the moment.
His hand slipped from my waist to the small of my back, and I felt the pressure of it even through the thin fabric of my shirt. My pulse jumped. I answered the kiss with more certainty, tilting up onto my toes to meet him, not wanting to give him a reason to pull away.
He didn’t. He only pulled me in closer.
There was nothing rushed about it—just the slow build of everything we hadn’t said, everything we hadn’t let ourselves feel until now. And here, hidden in plain sight, it was finally happening.
Him and me.
And it was everything.
twenty-seven
Safe to say,my brain was gone for the rest of the night and all through the next day. I went to every class, but I couldn’t tell you a single thing I was taught. I kept up in conversation with my friends but forgot what we talked about as soon as I walked away. I went to volleyball practice but I couldn’t even remember stepping on the court before I was walking off it. I lingered by the bleachers for longer than I should have, just staring at the spot that Dean and I had been in yesterday. I could practically feel his lips on mine as I stood there, remembering the taste of his gum and the feel of his hands on my hips, pulling me in closer. Before I knew it, my heart was pounding for reasons completely unrelated to the workout I’d just done. It was because of these imaginations that when I walked out of the school and saw him alone on the football field, I was sure I was seeing things.
I blinked, squinting into the early evening sun, certain my imagination had gone rogue again. But no—Dean was actually there near the fifty-yard line, tossing a football lightly from one hand to the other. His hoodie was off, slung over the goalpost, and his white T-shirt clung to his chest, the late September sun sinking behind him and turning everything gold.
My heart did a somersault. Then another.
He looked good. Too good. His helmet was discarded on the grass beside him, his dark hair damp with sweat, curling slightly at the edges. The sleeves of his practice shirt were rolled up, revealing those arms—stupid, ridiculous arms that I’d felt wrap around me yesterday when he pulled me in, when he kissed me. Gosh, had that really happened?
I should’ve turned away. I should’ve just walked to my car and gone home like a normal person who wasn’t secretly kissing her older brother’s best friend behind everyone’s back. But instead I found myself walking toward him, as if pulled by some invisible string. My trainers crunched softly on the artificial turf as I walked.
He saw me when I was halfway there. A crooked smile crossed his face like he wasn’t surprised. As if me showing up out here was an every day occurrence.
