Page 39 of Story Of My Heart

“The heart,” I sneer with more derision than is probably considered tasteful. Piper makes a face like I’ve just belched or wiped my nose on my sleeve.

“It wants what it wants,” she insists. “No logic. Just… chemistry. And that chemistry sometimes turns into love.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” Unfortunately, love isn’t as easily programmable as logic. If I look at the people around me, I can see the truth of what she’s saying. My parents were never a logical choice for each other. “Before this, I’d have thought you were being sappy. Only… I’m watching Fallon. There is no other explanation.”

Fallon and Leo could and should be happy. All of the elements are there. You can match a horse with water, but you can’t make it take the first step. Or something like that. I didn’t pay attention in English class.

“Yup.” Piper downs the rest of her wine, handing the glass off to the guy working the beverage station. She can sense that Fallon is gearing up to snap out of her little reverie and make an announcement as we near the bridge again. We need to handle this better than we did last time, especially knowing that Sunset Fake is somewhere out there, watching our every move. I also don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Piper again. I don’t think I could handle that twice. “Algorithms will only take you so far.”

“I get it. Then people take over.” I take in the crowd one last time as the boat gets ready to slip under the bridge. Everyone looks so happy, but in their own different ways. No single face has the same expression as another. It’s as if love itself has a different meaning to every person present. I guess this is something that people usually realize much younger than I am now. Maybe the reason I never believed in love is because I always thought it would look like my parent’s marriage. What a great thing to bring up to my therapist. I should jot that down for later. “Love. There’s no measure for the human element.”

Piper’s fingers lace with mine, letting our hands dangle in the air. She smiles at me, with so much care in her eyes that I don’t know what to do with myself. There’s a moment of silence in which I almost find myself saying something stupid, possibly that word that begins with ‘L’, before Fallon starts counting down over her mic until we pass under the bridge. Piper leans forward first this time, and I tilt her chin up with my hand. I swear she blushes as she looks up at me from under her eyelashes, her lips brushing against mine, softly at first, then firmly as I run my tongue against them.

It isn’t a chaste kiss, not by a longshot, my hand snaking around her waist as she winds her fingers in my hair. But it isn’t bawdy or sexy like our last few practice sessions. It feels …natural. Meaningful. Like she’s trying to tell me something with her actions that she can’t say with her words, and I’m responding in kind.

I kiss her again, moaning as I sink into the bliss of her mouth, tasting the whisper of her breath. When we break away, I find myself unable to compose myself, and after a tense moment of chewing on her lip, Piper huffs out a small laugh.

I feel eyes on me from all sides of the boat, and I remember now that I had told my sister that I wanted to say a few words after we crossed the bridge. I had intended to give a speech, thanking everyone for trying out our new service, and for acting as such enthusiastic guinea pigs. There were going to be platitudes and jokes about modern love, about electronics, about meet cutes and small town dating pools and cornhole tournaments. I had been planning my speech for days. I thought about it in the shower this morning. Hell, I even wrote notecards.

But now, as I start strolling toward Fallon at the front of the boat, I find myself not wanting to be anywhere but alone with Piper. I don’t want to be Tate the billionaire, or Tate the algorithm guru, or Tate the neurodivergent middle child, or even Tate the unlikely temporary front desk clerk tormented by a foul-mouthed parrot. I just want to be Tate, Piper’s best friend and accomplice. Maybe even… lover. Somebody else can take all the glory and polite applause for a change.

“Thank you all for coming,” I start, slowly spinning my flute glass back and forth between my fingertips. Fishing the notecards out of my pocket, I start to flick through them, hoping that one of them catches my eye and rings true in light of the little talk I just had with Piper. Instead, they all feel fake, sounding plastic and artificial and just plain wrong. I glance up from the cards, staring at the faces around me, and the only one I seem to be able to really see is hers. Those two brown eyes are all that exist in the world right now, and all I have to do is ask for them and they’re mine. Swallowing hard, I give my best smile and wave to the people gathered around me. “We appreciate you being here and taking a chance on something new in the dating space. And we’ll be in touch.”

Backing away slowly, I let the conversation around me start to bubble up again, before grabbing Piper’s wrist and whispering in her ear.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“You mean it?” Piper asks me with a wicked smile, trying her best to not look surprised. I’ve never passed on the opportunity for a speech in my life, and she knows it. Kissing her ear, I work my way down her jaw and along her throat, stopping at the dip in her shoulder.

“Seriously. The second this boat docks, we’re blowing this popsicle stand.”

She lifts one eyebrow. “And I know something else I could get into blowing.”

Chapter Twenty

Piper

My heart feels too big for my chest as we sneak away from the crowd, my hand in Tate’s. It reminds me of being in college again, slinking away from a party with friends to go make out with a cute guy that I’ve been making eyes at all night. Everything about tonight has been perfect, every moment with Tate has been like something from a dream. Even in a crowd, it felt like we were the only people there. For Tate to pass on an opportunity to gloat and bask in his triumphs with a speech is unheard of. The idea that he would walk away from it all just for me is enough to make me float two feet above the ground.

By the time we get back to the cabin, we’re giggling like school kids. Tate’s so excited he drops the key to the door twice, and we tumble through it when he finally manages to get it open. Shutting it behind us, he turns me around, backing me against the wood. His hands are everywhere at once, leaving an electric tingle along every inch of my skin that he touches. There isn’t any pretense this time, no mention of needing to keep up appearances or jokes about practicing. There is only our desire for each other, and it makes me want him that much more.

His hand slides up along my thigh, bunching up the fabric of my dress, pushing it up against my hips. Without preamble, his fingertips skim between my legs, pushing aside my underwear and teasing my entrance in light circles before sliding inside me.

“So wet,” he says, capturing my lips.

I gasp into his mouth, instinctively bucking my hips toward his touch as he crowds my body back against the door. He quickly grows frustrated with the restriction of the fabric, and removes his hand, reaching for the elastic waistband and tugging my panties down my legs.

“Wait,” I huff out with a laugh, as they become tangled around the straps of my heels. Reaching down for the buckle, he grabs my wrist and stops me.

“No. Leave the shoes on again. I like it that way,” Tate growls, bending down to carefully remove the tiny article of nude lace from my ankles, slipping it over each heel, while holding a steadying hand against my pelvis so I don’t fall. He kisses his way back up my body, dragging his lips and tongue along my calf and up toward my thigh, nibbling at the bit of skin along my hip bone before standing up again. After hitching my dress over my hips, he grabs for my wrist, and pins my arm back against the door, roughly sliding his hand between my legs, muscling them apart to abruptly slip two fingers inside of me and rest his palm against my clit.

His mouth finds my throat, scraping his teeth against my skin, sucking at it hard enough that I’m going to have to go into town to buy a scarf tomorrow. He isn’t gentle with his hand either, working at me with enough force that I can hear my own wetness under the sound of our ragged breathing. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so close to losing control, all of my thoughts turning to the tightness in my stomach, the buzz at the base of my spine, and the oncoming waves of pleasure. I barely have time to let out a moan before my peak grips me, my fingernails digging into Tate’s shoulder for stability as I clench around his hand.

“That was too fast. I guess we’ll have to try again,” he teases.

I can feel his smile against my skin as he wipes his hand on my thigh, the other not leaving my wrist. His leg comes between mine, shamelessly pressing into my sex with his muscular thigh, and I have a faraway thought about how we’ll need to get these pants dry cleaned. Before I can mention it, his free hand comes to the top of my dress, dipping into the bodice and roughly pulling my breast out into the air. He bends his head to it, circling my nipple with his tongue, and through his pants I feel his cock twitch against my leg. Something in him snaps, and he turns me around to face the door, running his hand along my ass.

“Piper,” he groans, bringing his mouth to my ear. “Can I fuck you like this, please?”

---