Page 99 of It's Always Sonny

We talk for so long, it’s like we’re making up for lost time. Not only trying to catch each other up on what we missed for the last seven years, but also trying to tell each other everything we were too afraid to tell each other back then.

She thinks she’s every bit the Fort Knox she was when we were together, but she’s capable of opening up in a way she never was then. Getting her to talk or relent isn’t a challenge like it was then—a challenge I loved a bit too much. But it takes finesse and focus and active listening that I wasn’t capable of back then, either.

We’ve grown.

More importantly, we’ve grown together.

I love hearing her talk, and I’m glad our focus is in the right place, but we’ve covered a lot of ground since last night. We’ve confronted some demons and I’ve confessed that I’m still madly in love with her and she’s not mad about it.

So I sort of want to skip the chatty chat already and get physical.

Except that getting physical while being locked in a sleeping bag is probably not the wisest choice.

It would be awesome, though.

Dang it, if it wouldn’t be awesome.

The effort to not kiss her is probably going to be the death of me.

At some point, we shifted in the sleeping bag so we’re facing each other. I’m tracing infinity symbols into her cheek and her hair is unbound and wild. I glide my finger down her jaw and neck and into her hair. I press my fingertips into her scalp, lightly massaging it, and she groans.

My girl’s always been a sucker for a good massage.

She bites her lower lip, and the rest of the tent vanishes from my periphery. I have blinders on to everything else in the world except for PJ’s mouth. She must sense this, because she rolls her lips together, further mesmerizing me with every twitch.

Her breathing speeds up, and my heart explodes. My pulse is a runaway train, picking up speed and ready to smash through my chest. When she brushes her hand against the back of my head and makes a small yummy sound, I’m done for.

“I’m obsessed with your short hair,” she says in a husky voice, and I’m going insane with the need to kiss her. With our faces so close, I can taste the mint from the emergency kit on her breath, and I’m almost drunk on it.

“I’m trying really, really hard to respect your boundaries,” I say. “But all I want is to kiss you until we melt into the core of the earth.”

Her pupils dilate until her dark eyes are almost black, and she presses my head closer until—

“Knock knock!” Sienna says.

“Mother of PEARL,” PJ hisses.

“Sometimes I really hate my family,” I groan. I’m filled with a furious disappointment. I want to smite my sister off the face of the friggin’ earth.

“Are you two decent?” Ash says.

PJ drops her head to my arm and rolls it against my chest. I tip her chin back up and put my forehead against hers, our noses touching. “Should we pretend we’re not home?”

“They’ll only think we’re dead and come to inspect us quicker,” she says.

“You know we can hear you, right?” Sienna says. “This is a canvas tent. It’s not remotely soundproof.”

“Yeah, we can actually hear your hearts beating as one,” Ash says. “We know you’re in there.”

“I hate you both,” I say.

“He doesn’t mean that,” PJ says. “But I might,” she whispers against my neck.

“Guys, we can still hear you,” Sienna says. “Are you coming out or are we coming in?”

I ball my fist against PJ’s back and groan in frustration. “We’re not through here, right?”

Her breath catches. They’re right: it really is that quiet out. “We are very much not through here.”

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