Page 72 of Kiss and Tell
I wave my hand toward the camp, toward the warm lights glowing from the lodge windows in the distance. “We’ve never existed outside of this bubble, Sawyer. Not even when we were messaging during that year between our last two summers. Those were an extension of this."
"But neither of our real lives outside of here have ever had anything to do with who we are together at Oak Crest. You didn’t even want to tell us the truth about your background or school.”
“That was a mistake.”
“I’m not judging it. I’m offering it as proof we carved out a place in time, and we made it what we wanted it to be. And we are soblessed. I’ll believe that forever. Very few people ever get to do it. I can’t believe we got to come and relive it, even for a few days. I bet that almost never happens. Thank you for that.”
“It worked because it’s more than magic. It’s more like fate, Tabitha. It knocked once and I ran away. We shouldn’t do that again.”
I love his voice. The low warmth of it. Even now when he is saying crazy things, I want to curl up in his words. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. I have to focus. “The camp road is the border for this magic. If we go past it together, it bursts. I agree this week has been a gift. We were both due some closure, but…”
“Tab.” He runs a finger through his hair. “I’m not dumb enough to think we’re going to figure this out in a single week. I know we’ve got a lot to learn about each other, but I’ve always known who you are at your core. You’ve always known that about me too. I was more myself here than I was anywhere else, even though I didn’t share all the facts of my life. I showed up as myself, and you saw me. You saw me,” he repeats.
His fingers lightly circle my wrist, and I don’t pull away. “I just want to convince you to give me a chance. However long it takes. Until Saturday. Or December. Or retirement.”
“You and I together, that’s only here. It only works here.” This feels so true to me. It’s the only thing that makes sense of the near-panic I felt at bringing him home.
“You don’t know that,” he says. “We can’t know until we try. As sure as you feel we’re a here-only thing, that’s how sure I feel this was always just the starting point.”
I look at him, really look at him, holding his gaze. His eyes are sincere. He believes every word he’s saying.
What if he’s right? What if this feeling, this warning inside me, is wrong? Just my anxiety trying to run from a risk?
“Tabitha,” he says, barely louder than a breath. He sets his hands on my shoulders, and I feel the current run between us again. “Let me show you.”
He leans forward. It’s a controlled, careful movement, offering plenty of time for me to move away, but I don’t. His eyes flicker to my mouth, and not even dynamite could move me now.
The first touch of his lips on mine is gentle, and he draws back a couple of inches, scanning my face, testing to make sure this is okay.
I answer by reaching up and sliding my hand around his neck, pressing him forward again, and this time when his lips meet mine, he has no questions. This kiss is inevitable.
I’d thought I was a pretty good kisser when I was twenty. I’d thought Sawyer was a good kisser when he was twenty.
We are both much better now.
His kiss is sure, the pressure firm as he tightens his grip and leans closer. I open for him, inviting him in, and the silk slide of his tongue is so familiar I want to weep, but also so sure now, so confident in taking, that I ache in a way I never had back then.
The kiss goes forever, until I can’t take this leaning anymore, until I begin to resent every molecule of air in the space between us.
He pulls me closer, his hands sliding up to cradle my head, warm against my scalp, sending more fire burning through me. He’s kissing me like he can never drink deeply enough, and I feel wanted, needed in a way no one has ever made me feel. Why isn’t it like this with anyone else?
I pull him even closer, a deep, satisfied growl rumbling up from his chest as he lifts me, my feet no longer touching the ground. This is so good. It’s never this good. I want to wrap every bit of myself around him, and I almost do—
Until I remember.
I pull back from him, and he lets me, his hands falling to my waist to support me as I lean slightly away, struggling to find my breath.
“Tabitha.”
“Sawyer.” He flinches as he hears the apology in my voice.
He rests his forehead against mine. “It’s never like this with anyone else.”
I can barely hear him above the sound of my heart. “I know. But it’s only like this because of this place and these circumstances.”
He lifts his head and softly brushes his thumb over my lips. “Do you really believe that?”
“I do.” His thumb stops moving, and I take his hand in both of mine, hoping I can warm them and in some way make up for the words I say next. “You were my first love, Sawyer. Maybe no one ever gets over that. People have their first love when they’re young, when they’re not yet who they’re going to be. In a way, my twenty-year-old self, that Tabitha, she’s captured perfectly in amber, and she’s never going to change. She’s never going to not love that Sawyer.”
