Page 33 of Offside Secrets
“Campbell,” she says again, but this time my name sounds different. Softer. Like she’s testing how it feels on her tongue.
I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just watch as she leans in, her hand coming up to rest against my chest, right over where my heart is hammering so hard I know she can feel it.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out rough, barely above a whisper.
She doesn’t answer. Just tilts her head slightly, her gaze dropping to my mouth, and I can feel the exact moment she makes the decision?—
The car lurches forward, brakes slamming hard enough to send us both jerking back against our seats. My milkshake hits the floor with a wet splat, and Sutton’s rose tumbles off the console.
“Sorry, sorry!” the driver calls back, waving apologetically at the pedestrian who just stepped into the crosswalk. “Didn’t see them there.”
Sutton and I stare at each other for a heartbeat, the moment shattered like glass. Then she laughs, high and tight, pressing both hands to her face.
“Oh no,” she breathes.
“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, my pulse still racing for entirely different reasons now. I bend down to grab her rose, brush off a droplet of spilled shake, and hand it back to her. Our fingers brush, but she pulls away quickly, tucking the rose back into her lap.
And she doesn’t look at me for the rest of the drive.
When we pull up to her house, the silence between us is heavy, dripping with unsaid words and there’s nothing but energy snapping between us. I climb out first, rounding the car to open her door before the driver can. She takes my offered hand, stepping out onto the sidewalk, and I tell myself to let go.
I don’t.
“I’ll walk you up,” I say.
“You don’t have to?—”
“I know.”
She nods, slipping her hand free and taking her warmth with it, and we walk to the entrance in silence. At the door, she turns, hugging the rose to her chest like armor.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, her Southern accent making a guest appearance. “For tonight. For…all of it.”
“Sutton—”
She holds up a hand. “Good night, Campbell.”
She reaches for the door, and I know I should let her go. I hear the car pull out of the driveway, our driver is gone now. My turn. I should walk to my car, go home, and pretend this was just another night. But I can’t make myself move. Part of me wants to apologize, profusely. The other part…well. He needs to be tethered and fast.
“Good night,” I finally manage.
She nods once, then disappears inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
I stand there for a second longer than I should, then turn and head back toward the car, jaw tight, hands shoved deep in my pockets. This is better. Smarter. She is who she is, and I’m?—
Footsteps. Fast.
I turn just as the front door slams behind Sutton and she crosses her porch in a single stride, her face set with determination, the rose forgotten somewhere inside. She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t hesitate.
She practically jumps down the steps to the ground, the click of her heels sharp against the concrete, but there’s no fear.
Before I can speak, she’s in front of me and close enough that I can smell the faint trace of her perfume, something warm and heady that hits like a memory I want to live in. Then her fingers curl into the front of my jacket, tight and sure, and she yanks me down into a kiss that steals the ground out from under me.
It’s a collision of the most beautiful kind—soft lips, a desperate sigh, the press of her body against mine. She tastes like milkshakes and chaos, the kind of wild decision you know is wrong but crave anyway. I lose my hands somewhereon her waist, palms sliding to the small of her back as if my body’s decided it’s had enough waiting.
She gasps when I pull her closer, the sound catching between us, and for a split second I swear the world tilts on its axis. Her fingers clutch harder, holding on like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go.
When she finally breaks the kiss, we’re both unsteady—breathing like we’ve sprinted a mile. Her hands stay tangled in my jacket, knuckles white, her forehead pressed to mine. The air between us hums, hot and uneven.
