Page 57 of Tongue-Tied

I spring back. “Oh shit, s-sorry, I th-thought you were asleep.”

His eyes blink open. “Not when I can feel your breath on my face.”

“I didn’t mean to get that close. I was just imagining…” I trail my fingers down my face, mortified.

“I don’t mind.” He reaches for my hand to steady me. “Tell me what you were imagining.”

“Just what the end of a real date might be like when you like, you know…” My face is flaming hot. “Make out with someone.”

He frowns. “Have you never made out with anyone?”

“Not really,” I admit. “I’ve kissed a handful of guys, but none of it was like full-on tongue.”

He intertwines our fingers. “Guess that’s something else we have in common because I try to avoid kissing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s just a hookup, a quickie. I don’t know most of them.”

“But you have sex with them, so what am I missing?”

“There’s protection involved. It’s strictly physical.”

“Isn’t kissing physical?”

“Okay, you got me.” He sighs. “Suppose there’s no one I wanted to stay with and kiss afterward.”

I blink in surprise. “Guess that makes sense.”

“Can you shut up about it now?” he teases. “Or do I need to do it for you?”

When he cups my cheek, I can see the raw affection in his eyes, and it makes me ache with want and need.

“How do you propose to shut me?—”

His lips press against mine, once, twice, before I’m gripping his shoulder and getting as close as possible. He smells like Dex and tastes exactly as I imagined, a mix of mint and beer, as his soft mouth grows more zealous. Our tongues flick and tangle, sending a lightning storm through me.

And then our hands are frantically reaching, our teeth clanging, our mouths eagerly meeting again and again until we’re full-on kissing, deep and long, and I don’t know whose groans are louder. We kiss until my lips feel tender and we pull away, breathless. I lick my dry lips as I pant softly, and then Dex is already pulling me back for more.

We break apart when we hear the doorknob jiggling.

Milo sweeps inside the room, then stills upon seeing us. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t know?—”

“No biggie,” I reply, sitting up. “We fell asleep watching a movie.”

I hope he doesn’t notice how hard I am as I slip back into my sneakers.

“I’ll walk you out,” Dex says, pushing the covers aside.

“No thanks, Dad,” I jest. “I got it. See you later.”

And then I slip out the door, glad for the cool nip of nighttime air against my heated skin.

23

DEX

I’m in my room Monday night after grabbing a quick bite because I need to write up my portion of the group project. I can’t stop thinking about the make-out session with Austin the other night. Not only because it was hot but also because it felt like more. Intimate and special, even under the guise of pretending it was the end of a date night that wasn’t one at all. But somehow, phrasing it that way helped me—and likely Austin too—ignore that the vibe has shifted between us recently.

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