Page 74 of Mr. Broody

One cop chuckles when he gets a better look at us, probably because he realizes we’re not teenagers.

“Sorry, officer,” Henry says when we approach the fence.

We have no choice but to climb up and over it, and I feel self-conscious that my ass is in both officers’ faces before I jump down onto the sidewalk.

“Henry Hensley,” the one says when he joins me.

“Who?” the other one asks.

“Jesus, the Falcons. Turn on a sports channel once in a while.”

I wait patiently, my fingers on my lips and still in shock that I just kissed Henry again.

“Sorry, guys, we went to school here and were just going down memory lane.” Henry grabs my hand, tugging me behind him. “It won’t happen again.”

It feels nice to be his girl again. In a way. Oh, this is going to be so confusing.

“The neighbors across the street called.” The cop nods behind him. “Then we pulled up, and the other house told us to leave you guys alone.” He nods toward the brown house I find myself looking at from my classroom quite often.

The other officer laughs, and I sneak a peek to where he’s pointing with his head. Two women are in the window, watching the interaction. For some reason, that warms my heart. Does true love recognize true love?

“Good luck tomorrow,” the one says.

“Thanks.” Henry shakes both of their hands.

We walk home, and I don’t skip the cracks this time because I don’t want our time together to go by faster. I want tonight to last forever. I wish we weren’t adults, and I could sneak him into my basement for a few hours—or preferably, all night. But he needs to get back to Bodhi.

“I guess I leave you here,” he says, stopping in front of my house.

“I guess so.”

“Do you think we could keep this between us for a while? I don’t want the outside pressure to influence our second shot.” He runs his hands down my arms then links our hands together.

“That’s a good thought. I don’t want all the questions right now either.”

He smiles and leans forward, placing his lips on mine again, but draws back quickly at the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk.

“You idiot. How did you forget the key?”

I turn to my left. “Owen? Waylon?”

They stop and stare at us, then look at each other and back at us.

“What are you guys doing?” Waylon asks.

“Looks like you’re getting all hot and bothered on the steps,” Owen chimes in.

I groan.

“Boys, it’s late,” Henry says.

I want to chuckle at his dad voice.

“We’d rather talk about why you were kissing our sister,” Waylon says with a smirk.

There’s no way they saw us kissing. They’re baiting us.

“We weren’t kissing,” I lie, and Henry raises his eyebrows at me.

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