Page 47 of Under The Twilight Rainfall
“We’re being rude,” he whispers on my lips, but still he’s poking and prodding at my tongue with his own.
“Don’t stop kissing me.” He dives in with more resolve, and yeah, we’re giving a show that’s going to make me avoid public transportation for the foreseeable future, but goddamn does none of that matter when he’s practically making love to my mouth.
I’m pretty sure the people on the Jeepney all give a collective sigh of relief when Valen and I hop out thirty minutes later to walk the road that leads to his house.
It’s nothis, but it feels like a part of him. A part I could have known years ago if I hadn’t run away.
Like I’m going to lose when I run again.
Valen holds my hand like we’re school kids on a playground, and secretly, I love how affectionate he is. Ever since the waterfall, he’s been touching me more than usual. He was touchy-feely before, but now it’s like he can’t even breathe on his own without some part of us touching.
It means I don’t have to be the one to reach out, but I think he knows I want to. Because Valen somehow sees inside of me in ways I can’t even see inside of myself.
“How do you want this to go?”
He tugs me to a stop a few feet from the house, and I give him a questioning look. “Want what to go?”
He pulls my hand, and I readily lean into him, his smile of pure happiness enough to make my heart feel like it might burst.
“Us,” he says softly into my hair. “Touching. Kissing. Do you want to stop?”
“Not a chance in hell.” I grab him by the back of the neck and crush our lips together in a sloppy, hurried kiss. “Maybe keep it to a minimum, though. I don’t need constant boners around your family.”
“Noted,” he says, and we spend the next several minutes just holding and kissing each other until our mouths are raw and numb. “Should probably go inside.”
I know he’s right, but a part of me worries our little bubble of happiness will burst as soon as we step through the door. That the spell will break, and I’ll never get to touch him again.
I let him usher me towards the door, and I feel his absence like a crater when his hand leaves mine to let us in.
I’m so fucking screwed.
“We’re back!” he calls as I shut the front door behind us.
When I turn around, I nearly stumble back at the person waiting for us. I only really met him the other day, Valen’s grandpa who’s been sick and nearly bedridden. For a man nearing his seventies, he doesn’t look it. His blond hair and beard are a little scraggly, and he’s thin in a way that looks almost unnatural, but he still has this energy about him that somehow makes him appear younger.
“You’re late,” he says, but the stern tone is washed out by the smile spread across his face.
“Are we, though?” Valen asks, brushing the backs of his fingers on mine, and I shove his hesitation aside to thread them together.
His grandpa’s eyes crinkle and he nods towards the back door. “Better late than never, Valentine.”
As soon as the older man turns away, I steal one last passionate kiss from Valen before deciding that I definitely need to cool it if I don’t want to be climbing in his lap all afternoon.
I contemplate hiding out while Valen spends time with his family—I need the editing time, and I did promise to call Zeke—but he tugs me alongside him as if my presence is a requirement and not voluntary.
Ok. If he wants me with him, I can give him that.
The yard smells like a firepit and way too much scorched barbeque sauce, but that’s not what assaults my senses so hard I almost fall back into the door. No, it’s the table covered with metal containers full of so many different kinds of food that I’d be sick for a week to try all of it. It’s the streamers hanging from the cabana and the scribbled ‘Happy Birthday’ on the patio. It’s Theo jumping up and down with a little square box in his hands.
“Valen...” I grip his hand tighter—maybe tight enough to cut off blood flow—every part of me suddenly running on high alert.
“I’m here.” The comfort is enough for me to swallow past the lump in my throat, enough for me to blink away the neon ‘WARNING’ sign that’s rushing through my blood.
“Boys!” Valen’s mom—Anna—comes and wraps us both in a hug, and when she pats my cheek, I feel a prickle of tears forming in my eyes. “We’d never forget,iho.”
Valen’s dad is busy at the food table with Lola, so as soon as Anna steps away, I turn to Valen and whisper, “What did she say?”
He smiles and moves his hand to the small of my back, simultaneously pushing me forward and pulling me closer. “She called you her son.”
