Page 84 of Better Hate than Never

I want his hands and mouth, I want more of those kisses that made my skin spark and dance like a live wire, arcing, lit up with relief as I grounded myself—my mouth to his mouth, my hands on him, his hands on me, welcoming the energy thrumming through us.

Up on the sidewalk, everyone pairs off and hugs goodbye, shivering against the cold. I participate in the ritual, barely paying attention, hardly knowing what I say.

And then it’s just the four of us on the sidewalk, Bea curled into Jamie for warmth, Christopher shoulder to shoulder beside me, giving me his heat.

A car whooshes by, pounding bass, a raw ache rattling the air like an echo of what’s inside me.

“Well, my lady.” Jamie wraps an arm tighter around Bea’s shoulders, smiling down at her. “May I escort you home?”

“My dear sir, how aboutIescortyouhome?” Bea says as she grins up at him.

“I won’t say no to that. There’s a cab,” Jamie says, waving it down. “You two coming?”

I shake my head. “I want to walk.”

Christopher says, “I’ll walk her home.”

Jamie and Christopher seem to exchange some kind of look I can’t read as Bea rushes my way, hugging me hard, whispering in my ear, “You okay?”

“Yes. I promise. Love you.”

She wraps her arms tighter around me and says, “Love you, too. I’m one call or text away. Because, uh... just in case it wasn’t obvious, I will not be coming back after I take Jamie home. Well, not until tomorrow morning.”

I snort a laugh, then pull away. “It was obvious, yes.”

She grins. “Okay. Night, KitKat.”

“Night, BeeBee.”

After Jamie tucks Bea into the taxi, he follows her, pulling the door shut. I look up at Christopher and find him staring down at me. He steps closer and zips my coat all the way.

“Do you mind walking?” I ask.

“Of course not,” he says, eyes on his task as he tugs up my coat’s collar to cover my chilly neck, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “I had a sneaking suspicion that despite going hard for two hours at paintball, after that train ride, you’d need to move.”

“I had to sit still the whole time.” I wiggle my legs at the knees, working out the restless energy that’s built up in my system. “I feel like a shook up bottle of bubbles.”

“Hmm. What should we do about that?” Christopher squints into the distance, eyes on the empty sidewalks. Then, out of the blue, he says, “Race ya.”

And he takes off.

I’m stunned for a split second, before I explode after him. “No fair!” I yell. “You got a head start.”

He glances over his shoulder and flashes me a grin. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“No, you won’t,” I holler, pushing my legs, which used to take me ahead of all the other kids on the playground, which got me middle-distance track medals, the thrill of air burning in my lungs, my muscles working until they were spent and finally able to rest. “Because I’m gonna beat you.”

He laughs. Actually laughs. “Sure you are, Katydid.”

A green light for opposing traffic makes him screech to a halt and makes me stop beside him. I stare up at Christopher, my chest rising and falling heavily, a smile lighting up my face.

“You are so getting burned,” I tell him, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “You weren’t around for my track-and-field days, Petruchio, so you don’t know you’re up against a second place in states for the eight-hundred-meter andfirstplace for the sixteen-hundred-meter races.”

He stares down at me, dark eyes filled with something knowing and warm. “I was there.”

“What?”

He looks up at the light, watching it, waiting for it to turn red. “Just because you didn’t know I was there, doesn’t mean I wasn’t.”

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