Page 47 of Until We Kiss

I laugh. “Of course, dude. I actually… I have something to tell you. But before that, I’d be all over you. Sandy, sweaty guy pretty much suctioned to you like a giant octopus.”

“You promise?”

I blink, my smile falling slightly. There’s something in his tone I’m not picking up. And it feels like he’s waiting for me tounderstand. I squint at the image of him. He’s holding the phone close to his face, just edges of sky above his head.

Deepblue.

That’s not a Colorado sky. Even when it is blue, it’s rarely that color up there, not like it is on Clua, this close to the equat?—

Wait.

“Carter?” I lick my lip, holding the phone closer to my face, like that will help me sort it out, my heart pounding. I don’t want to get hopeful, but shit, Iam.

He’s got stuff to take care of in Colorado though. He told me that…

But he keeps smiling.

I look towards the boardwalk along the rear of the beach, the phone warm in my palm, the sun hotter on my back.

There’s a man standing on the boardwalk, holding up his phone, but he’s not looking at it. He's looking at me. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and board shorts with a roll aboard beside him, a sweatshirt drooped over the top, and one sleeve dangling on the ground.

Jesus. I know. I know. I fucking know.

I’m moving, phone tossed on my bag, flip-flops kicking up sand, that familiar pain in my knee complaining, but I ignore it and fuckingrun.

I launch into him, slamming against his chest, arms wrapping around him, heart pounding so hard that I’m sure he can feel it.

“Carter,” I push out through my tight throat, heat already gathering in my eyes. I’m gonna fucking break down, and I don’t give a shit.

“Hey.” Then he’s kissing me, backing me up to the rickety railing—kissing me like when we’re alone, his hand palming my jaw, his breath synching with mine.

I’ve got no idea what’s happening around us, the scruff of his shoes, the strain of the wood under our combined weight. We kiss until we can’t breathe, until my jaw hurts, until there’s a sheen of sweat between his palm and my jaw.

And still, it’s not enough.

I used to think he was too much sometimes. And now all I think isI want more.

He sighs as we finally break the kiss, his thumb smoothing along my jaw as his hand slides down to my neck. “Fuck, I missed you.”

We stay like that for a long minute, the heat building behind my eyes until a few tears spring out.

I’m just so happy to see him.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, lightly on his cheek, and he smiles.

“I got a last-minute flight.” His thumb rolls over the side of my neck.

“What about those meetings you had about next year’s curriculum?”

His hand slides down, tickling over my forearm before his fingers lace with mine. “I said, ‘fuck it.’”

I blink. “It’s your job.”

“Well, itwas.”

I lean back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I didn’t renew for next year.”

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