Page 70 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

Me too, Sunshine. Me too.

“Lucy, I don’t know what happens from here.” I pull her against my chest and stroke my hand down her arm. “But I want to find out.”

“I do too,” she whispers. Then we’re still for a while, and finally she speaks again. “And I know you’re still leaving at the end of the summer. That scares me. But we have some time to figure this out, right?” Her hold around my torso tightens.

Maybe I should tell her that there’s a small chance I’m leaving earlier than planned. But nothing is set in stone, and I don’t want to ruin this moment with what ifs. Once I know anything for sure, I’ll tell her. “Right.”

She looks up and pulls me in again for more kissing. I happily comply.

Finally, when we’re both exhausted and breathing hard, I gently push us away from the rock wall and hold her at a distance—much to Lucy’s whimpering protest, which makes me smile.

“We should probably get back out there before our friends send a search party.”

“Let them.”

I curl a strand of her hair around my index finger. “I don’t know about you, but I kind of want to keep this in a little bubble for a while. To keep you this way all to myself.”

“Good, so we’re agreed. More kissing.” She takes a step closer, and I chuckle.

“I do like that idea. But…”

She sighs. “I know. We should probably pace ourselves.” Then she points at me. “But I don’t have to like it.”

“Believe me. If it were up to me, we’d never leave this spot. But since we are…” I loop my fingers through hers. “There’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time. Like, about twelve years.”

She tucks away a smile. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“Would you like to go on a date with me? Tomorrow, maybe?”

“Boo. I have to work tomorrow until late.” She smiles. “But what about Sunday? I’m off then.”

It stinks to have to wait, but it gives me more time to figure out the perfect plan for her. “Sunday works.”

“Can you afford to close up shop that day?”

She doesn’t know yet that I’ve pretty much gotten all the data I need now. That I don’t have to keep the food truck running every day. But I don’t want to go into that just yet. “Definitely.”

Her smile turns shy. “I can’t wait.”

My heart shifts inside me, and I want to give her the world. Still, I can’t promise her that just yet. But I can give her a date. A really good date.

I kiss her knuckles. “I can’t either, Sunshine. I can’t either.”

twenty-four

LUCY

Fear has never quite felt like this before.

Because this is the best first date I’ve ever been on.

I allow myself to stare at Blake from the passenger seat of his dad’s sports car. There’s something carefree and wild in the way he’s sitting with the window rolled down, his elbow propped on the sill. He’s wearing shorts, a T-shirt, sandals, and sunglasses. Wind whips through his hair as he drives Highway 1 down the California coastline, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel along with the Tim McGraw song on the radio.

I’ve never seen him so relaxed. So at home. Ever since our kiss—kisses—on Friday night, I’ve wondered if the magic would disappear. If he would. If I was too much, or if now that he’d gotten me out of his system (twelve years is a long time to wait for a kiss—what if he built it up in his mind and it wasn’t as great for him as it was for me?), he’d change his mind about this date.

But from the moment he picked me up at my bedroom door four hours ago, we’ve laughed together, chatted about nonsense, and had a great time. First, we stopped at the local gas station and snagged a variety of road trip snacks (peanut butter M&Ms and sour gummy worms for me, Red Vines for him). Then we grabbed lunch at this hole-in-the-wall Mexican place a few towns up the highway that had the best guacamole I’ve ever tasted. We spent the whole meal trying to dissect what made this green stuff so good, so we can try recreating it at home.

After that, a farmer’s market—with everything from homemade jams to fruits and veggies, clothing, arts, and crafts—was the perfect place to slow down and peruse while holding hands. And only holding hands. Blake hasn’t attempted to kiss me or show any more physical affection since Friday.

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