Page 52 of Tell Me Again

God, I’m buzzing. I’m buzzing and tingly all over, and I feel light, like I might be floating or something. Coop’s breathing hard, and so am I. His cheek is pressed against mine, and his arms are still wrapped around my waist.

And damn, it’s warm in here.

“God, Josh...” His voice is low and husky, and he follows it up with a gentle graze of his lips just under my ear.

My whole body seems to react to his touch, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Some strangled sound escapes my lips, maybe something between a groan and whimper. And Coop lets out a shuddering breath and tightens his arms around me. He’s shaking too—I can feel it rippling through him.

“So good...” I say, and it’s all I can manage right now. “So, soooooo good.”

He nods against me, and his fingers press into my back, bringing our hips closer. He sucks in a short breath and groans as he lowers his head to my shoulder with another shudder.

I turn and press a kiss into his hair, and something about that honestly feels almost as good as the kiss we just shared. More intimate maybe. Hell, I dunno. But my heart is racing and wanting to burst right out of my chest, and I’m finding it hard to not just blurt out “god, I love you.” Because I do. I love him so much. I loved him ten years ago, and I still do now. And it’s overwhelming and wonderful and also... just more than a little scary.

I take a deep breath, kiss him again—this time on the temple—and let my hands rub along his upper back. He clings to me more as he shudders, but then he straightens up and pushes away just enough to look at me.

There are tears in his eyes, and that knowledge sends a wave of guilt through me. But he holds them back, and he sort of smiles, or at least attempts to give me a smile.

We really need to talk.

But I remember his words from earlier, that he may need some time and space to think—alone—and my chest feels tight. Of course it makes sense that he’d need to be alone, but it’s still difficult, knowing how much I’ve hurt him.

His smile fades, and as though he’s thinking about the same thing I am, he steps back from me a bit. “Josh, I...”

I think he’s going to apologize or something, and he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t feel sorry at all. This is all on me.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I murmur, and I shake my head lightly as he lowers his gaze to the floor. Tentatively, I reach out and take one of his hands in mine, needing his touch, and god, I’m grateful when he allows it.

It feels so good, so right, so perfect.

We really do need to talk.

And I really, really don’t want to leave. I just want to stay here and hold him and kiss him and try to make up for all the time I made us miss, everything I ruined. There’s a fleeting thought that I can try to convince him of this, but then I remember the anguish in his voice earlier, when he’d told me I should probably go.

Yeah, whether I stay is really not up to me.

I lift his hand to my lips and press a gentle kiss to his knuckles. There’s a rush of something through my chest—warm and tingly—and then there’s that buzzing again. It feels so good, and I hope he’s feeling it too. I want to ask, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I just watch as he closes his eyes, his jaw tight and his shoulders tense. Is he feeling it too? There’s a desperate plea in my heart that he is, that he wants to give me that second chance. God, I hope.

“It’s okay, Coop,” I whisper again, and I then kiss his knuckles one more time before letting his hand drop from mine. The loss of touch almost hurts, and a wave of uncertainty ripples through me. But I want to give him space if that’s what he needs.

He doesn’t look up as he shakes his head. “I-I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I just—I just need a little time, I think. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you don’t need to be sorry.” I resist the urge to step closer to him again, and when he finally looks up at me, his eyes are dark and unsure, yet hopeful at the same time. My heart stutters. “I’ll give you as much time as you need. I...”

I love you.

God, the words are there, on the tip of my tongue, wanting to come out. But it feels like he’s not ready to hear that yet either, and I don’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he already is.

I close the distance between us again and lift my hand to touch his arm, just above his elbow. Heat floods through me, and he lets out a short breath as my fingers caress lightly downward until I find his hand again.

“I can leave now and come back later tonight, after I go to Brenna’s, if that’s what you want,” I say, entwining my fingers in his. “Or, I’ll see you at the bowling alley tomorrow. It’s really—whatever you want or need. It’s up to you.”

He grips my hand as though it’s a lifeline, and he still doesn’t look up at me, but for a moment, my stomach flutters with hope and an aching desire.

Please, Coop, ask me to stay.

But then his shoulders tighten a little, and he takes a shaky breath.

“It’s okay,” I say again. I’m not sure where all my own courage is coming from except this deep regret for my actions and this unshakable need to make sure he understands how sorry I really am. I reach up and brush my fingers along his jawline, which is slightly rough because of his stubble. I want to kiss him right there. To find out what it feels like. But that’s hopefully for later. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was young and stupid and scared. But that doesn’t excuse it, and I understand that you need time. Please don’t apologize for that.”

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