Page 87 of Sweet Escape

I wish I had been faster gathering my belongings as I snuck around Memphis’s room earlier. I’d hoped to sneak out without waking him. But clearly, Murphy was right when she said I’m not very stealthy.

I drop the trunk closed then turn, looking at Memphis where he stands a few feet away on the cold concrete of the Hawthorne driveway. His hands are on his hips. He’s wearing a T-shirt and a loose pair of basketball shorts.

And looking far more hurt than I’d anticipated.

“I figured it might be easier for everyone if I left early,” I say, crossing my arms. It’s the only thing I can think of, having not prepared anything to say.

“Easier for who?”

He steps closer, resting his hand on the back of the car, pinning me with a look that makes my chest ache. His eyes search mine, and I get the sensation that he’s looking for something, though I’m not sure what.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving, Memphis. It’s time to go home.”

“You’re not leaving. You’re running.”

My head jerks back. “What the hell would I be running from?”

He waves a hand in the space between where we stand.

“From this. From us.”

It’s too much ... way too much. Whatever’s developed between us is too big, and I’m not ready.

“Whatus, Memphis?” I stare him down. “This is a vacation fling. Some fun sexy times that are supposed to be nothing more than fun and sexy.” I blink rapidly, trying to convince him while trying to convince myself, too. “That’s all.”

“You don’t believe that,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “If this was a bunch of fun sex and nothing more, it would be easy to wake up and fuck again and then have breakfast and leave for the airport. Right? Wouldn’t that be easy?”

I shove my hands into my sweatshirt pockets, my fingers bunching and releasing over and over. I stare back at Memphis with my head high and my chin out. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. Because I’m terrified that he’s right. That he can see right through me.

Memphis takes another step forward, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders before sliding down and squeezing gently at my biceps.

Our gazes tangle again, and I get that same sense that he’s searching for meaning.

“You ... make me feel something.” He shakes his head. “Something I didn’t know I could feel. Something too early to name. But what I can honestly tell you is that I’m not ready for whatever this is between us to end. Not yet.”

A shiver races down my spine at his honesty, at the raw and vulnerable way his eyes look into mine.

“And maybe I said the wrong thing before, when I first came outside.” His hands come up and frame my face. “So let me try again. Please don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Memphis leans down, bringing his face within inches of mine. Our noses bump, and I press up onto my toes, unable to refuse the invitation to touch him again.

The kiss is gentle and sweet and reverent, and my body warms despite the cool fall morning.

It had taken all my mental strength to push myself out of bed earlier, to quietly tiptoe around Memphis’s room, collecting my things and then slipping out, to get on the road to the airport hours before I need to go.

I’d made up my mind. I needed to leave, and leave immediately.

And now, standing here, wrapped in his arms as this slow, lazy kiss rolls through me, the little wall that protects my heart continues to crack. And I’m even more convinced that I’m making the right choice.

I pull back, take a step away from him, and cover my mouth with my hand. As if I can hold his kiss there forever, save it for later when I need it most.

He watches me, uncertainty in his expression, and I know that I have to convince him that me leaving is the best thing.

For both of us.

For what we want out of the future.

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