Page 80 of Tell Me Again

“I really, really want to kiss you right now,” I say as I squeeze his thigh. His eyes widen just a little, and I shake my head and backtrack. “But I understand if—”

“I want that too,” he cuts in, and he purses his lips in a tight smile and then lowers his eyes to our hands, where his thumb now rubs gently across the top of my knuckles. God, it’s so fucking good, and I’m having to work hard to control myself again. When he looks back up at me a moment later, his cheeks are a fucking adorable shade of red and I can barely stand it. “Um, I-I would—kiss you, that is,” he says quietly. “But we, um, sort of have a bit of an audience.”

I hadn’t heard it before, but now that he pointed it out, I can definitely hear the telltale squeaking of the hinges on the kitchen door, the muffled voices—one muffled voice in particular. I groan and close my eyes.

“It’s Mel, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah. And another woman with dark hair.”

“Clara,” I say, and I twist my head around to see both of them peeking curiously out of the partially opened door. I expect some reaction, like them ducking back into the kitchen quickly as though they hadn’t been fucking spying on me. But that’s not what I get at all.

Mel’s smiling—and it’s not her usual half-scowl smile or her cynical grin. It’s an honest-to-fucking-goodness smile, and her eyes are almost... soft or something. Clara, too. Her expression is kind and gentle. And it’s as though they’re both—fuck, I don’t even know. I narrow my eyes at both of them, but Mel just sort of nods at me.

I don’t fucking know what to think. So I do the thing I probably shouldn’t.

“If you two would stop spying on us, I might actually get a kiss hello. So if you don’t mind...?”

There’s a quiet laugh from Josh, which is good, because I suppose that could have backfired on me in some fucking spectacular way and he could be taking off right about now. And Mel and Clara, well... it’s sort of more of the same of what I’ve been getting all morning. Mel’s giggling and Clara’s got this caring smile on her lips. Mel gives me another nod—is that supposed to be some sort of approval or something? fuck—and then the door to the kitchen closes.

We’re still not alone—there are three tables of customers in the diner. But it sure feels like it’s just him and me when I turn back around to face him again. He’s smiling, and his cheeks are flush.

“You’re fucking adorable right now, man,” I say, my voice a low whisper. “Fucking sexy too. Can I kiss you now?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

I scoot closer to the edge of my seat and then lean in toward him. He reaches up with his free hand and turns my baseball cap around, his grin looking just a little silly. Then his hand settles on my neck, and he draws me in for a light kiss. It’s brief and somewhat chaste. But given everything, it’s more than enough. And it makes my heart soar.

I don’t want to pull away, and he doesn’t push me away. So instead, I let my forehead rest against his for another moment before I straighten up, blinking my eyes back open. He’s watching me, smiling, and he reaches up again to turn my hat back around.

“Has it, um, been busy?” he says after another long moment where we’re just staring at each other like lovestruck idiots. At least, that’s how I’m staring at him. Because I am—a lovestruck idiot.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, um...” I clear my throat and glance back at the tables behind me. No one’s looking over here like they want my attention. I turn back to Josh.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous. And I want to kiss him again. More later. There’s always later.

“Yeah, it was pretty busy. But all good. The time passed quickly. Sort of. It sort of passed quickly. Because I was just trying to not count down the minutes until—” I shake my head. What the fuck’s wrong with me? Lovestruck idiot. Fuck.

“Yeah, me too.”

We stare at each other for another minute. Then he sort of coughs and lowers his gaze back to our hands, which are still clasped together on his thigh. And something in the air between us changes. It’s not much, but I can feel it. It’s a tension in his jaw and shoulders. A longer blink of his eyes. A stilted breath.

Fuck, what did I say?

I squeeze his hand. “Sorry, um, I should have offered already. Do you want anything? Coffee or pie or something?”

“Nah, I... just wanted to see you. And, um...” He trails off as he lifts his chin again, and the tension is now in his eyes too.

Fuck, why is my stomach suddenly queasy? Everything’s fine. He’s just nervous.

But that’s not it. That’s not it, and his eyes tell me that as he holds my gaze for another second before blinking and looking away again.

I almost can’t speak to ask. But I have to know.

“What’s—what’s wrong?”

He still holds my hand, and I get the sense he’s clinging to it. And that makes my stomach lurch again.

“It’s nothing, really,” he says, which immediately tells me that it’s absolutely not nothing. “But, um, something’s come up, and I have to, uh, leave...”

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