Page 97 of Kiss Collector
“And you might fall for another guy. We can’t get mad about that.”
But I already feel mad about it.
He reaches for both my hands and pulls me to him,holding me to his chest and nuzzling my hair with his face. I let him hold me until my heart stops hammering and my stomach stops churning with jealousy of girls I don’t even know.
“Can we at least hang out this summer before I go?” I ask.
I close my eyes as I wait for his answer, which is a long time coming.
“I think that’ll be dangerous,” he says.
“Why?” I whisper.
His laugh is airy. “Because I don’t want to fall for you any harder. I’ve been trying to talk myself out of liking you all year.”
I pull back. All year? His serious gaze assures me.
“And I knew you were after Big Boy. I could tell the second you were single.”
I shake my head, feeling defensive and embarrassed. “And what about you and Sierra? I know you went home with her after prom.”
He’s steady in his response. “I drove her home ’cause her date was trashed and she was upset. The end. I know better than to fall back with someone who burned me, but I’m not gonna leave her hangin’ either.” A slow grin grows on his sexy lips. “Were you jealous?”
“You didn’t say goodbye.”
His humor dissipates. “That was rude of me. I saw you dancing with Dean, and then...” He shakes his head and I realize he was jealous, too.
“I had no more feelings for him by the time he got with Monica. I promise.”
“Well.” He scuffs the floor. “I knew I needed to distance myself, regardless.”
I go up on my toes and give him a soft peck until he lets out a quiet moan. When I pull back, he runs a thumb over my cheek. “Make me a promise.”
I nod.
“Don’t get mad at me if I need to keep that distance.” He’s still going to hold back? I lock my jaw, hating the thought. After all this, I’m pissed.
“There’s that fire,” he says. “Let me explain.” He picks up a loose ball of paper from the floor and holds it in his open palm. “That’s you.” He points to the trash and I glower. “Only you’re prettier, of course. Imagine it a little less dirty with sexy lips.”
I smack my lips and cross my arms. “Keep going.”
“And my hand is me. This is my instinct when I think about you leaving.” He curls his hand closed tight around the paper, crumpling the life out of it and eyeing me. When he opens his hand again, the paper looks sad. Smaller. “But I gotta fight that instinct and keep my hand just like this.” He keeps it open. “So you can go where the wind takes you.”
“You don’t want to be together,” I say quietly, understanding.
“Yet,” he reiterates.
I tend to be an all-in kind of person. Holding back will be hard, but at the same time, it feels wrong to force him,us, into something serious when we know it’s going to be difficult to be far apart.
“Okay,” I whisper.
We walk side by side out to the parking lot, bumping eachother with our hips and shoulders as we go. I spot my squad waiting by the van, huddled, smiling when they see us coming. My heart expands and snaps back, stinging. I have so much to stay for.
As if reading my mind, Joel says under his breath, “Up you go, Zae Monroe. No looking back.”
Senior Year Abroad
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