Page 62 of Dropping the Ball

His heart beats faster, matching mine. I affect him. This is not just me. His hands frame my ribcage, shifting me up, his lips dragging against mine to press a kiss against their corner, trailing more kisses to my jawline.

My sighs become more thready with each touch of his mouth, heat blazing along the path it takes, but I’m greedy and drag his lips back to mine, our breath mingling. He makes a soft sound in his throat and kisses me harder. When his tongue brushes mine, the dopamine rush is so intense, I push against his chest on reflex.

He immediately releases me, and I leverage myself to stare down at him, trying to sort through my racing thoughts.

That was amazing.

And stupid.

And better than I ever imagined it could be back when I didn’t know what kissing was.

It’s also the worst timing.

That’s the thought that wins out as I back away.

“This isn’t what I want.” Zero chance I can hold my voice steady. All the breathlessness is back, and I sound dazed.

His answer is a lifted eyebrow.

“This isn’t what I want right now,” I clarify.

He pushes himself up, drawing in the leg that had been keeping mine company against the sofa back and tucking it beneath him, situating himself for this talk.

Because it’s going to be a talk. I can feel it. The weight of things that need to be said.

“I don’t believe you,” he says. “Try again.”

The words should make me angry, but his tone is mild. Almost curious. Still, I can’t let him get away with that.

“Did you just kiss-splain me?” I demand.

“Yeah. I did.”

“You’re supposed to be concerned and ask if I’m okay.”

He crosses his arms. “Are you woman-splaining me?”

“No, that’s calledcommunicating.” Ha. Hillview didn’t have a debate team, but I would have won, obviously.

“You could have said anything else except ‘I don’t want this right now’ and I would say it was communicating. But that was fire, Katie. Are you trying to communicate something different?”

I draw my legs up crisscross style, subtly adjusting my posture to give wise woman vibes. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“Then say you did.” His face is calm, but his eyes snap.

“Are youdaringme?” I ask. “This isn’t high school.”

He leans forward, stopping short of where I would feel the need to scoot back. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe this is exactly what we would have done back then if I’d had the guts.”

Whoa. My eyes widen.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” he says. “You and your stupid soft-looking hair.” His mouth twitches, and I can’t fight a smile entirely.

“I did use good conditioner,” I concede. The tension is ratcheting down. This is okay. He’s not mad that I broke off our kiss. He’s got an issue with the way I explained it.

“Katie with the good hair,” he murmurs, more of his smile escaping.

“That Beyoncé album was the soundtrack of senior year.”

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