Page 34 of Formula Chance

“True,” I reluctantly admit. “I’d probably trip and end up taking out half the other models.”

That starts a giggling fit, and she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. There’s something about this moment—this easy back-and-forth, the shared humor—that feels so familiar. So… us. The way we used to be before things got messy. We always made each other laugh, often with unrelenting pranks or even jumping out from behind doorways to scare the other.

The laughter dies down, leaving a comfortable silence between us. I watch as her face sobers, and I can see she’s fallen down into the pleasant memories along with me. The air shifts. Her toffee-colored eyes warm, her smile softens.

Setting my glass down on the coffee table, I lean toward her. “You know, I’ve missed this.”

“Missed what?” she whispers.

“This.” I gesture between us. “The way we could just… be. No pressure. No expectations. Just us.”

Bex nods, her words murmured low with a sad smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

My body seems to have a mind of its own as my hand reaches out slowly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Bex goes utterly still and when my fingers graze her cheek, she lets out a stuttering breath.

“You’ve still got that freckle,” I say, tapping the spot on her cheekbone. “The one right here.”

Bex’s hand goes back to my knee and she squeezes. Her eyes are locked on mine, and I don’t know what I see within, but nowhere do I see discomfort or a silent plea to take my hand off her.

I graze my thumb under her lower lip, just catching the full edge, still lingering on that freckle. “I think that’s my favorite spot on you. I’d always aim a kiss there.”

“I remember,” she rasps.

I can feel the smile tugging at my mouth, but I don’t let it break free. There’s nothing amusing about the intensity thrumming between us, probably fueled by alcohol. I hesitate a moment, giving her a chance to pull away, but when I see her lean ever so slightly toward me, there’s no other choice but to meet her halfway.

My lips brush against hers, so whisper light it can only be conveyed as a question.

Is this okay?

Are we being stupid?

How could we have ever given this up?

I feel Bex’s hand on my cheek, her head tilts and her mouth opens. A rush of emotions swallow me—yearning, peace, hunger, elation. I want to grab her to me, but I force patience, instead locking my hand on her wrist to keep her palm on my face and I deepen the kiss.

Slow, unhurried… all the time in the world.

It feels sweet. Like a beginning.

We pull apart and my forehead dips to rest against hers. I feel her breath on my lips.

Neither of us says anything, but the silence is filled with a thousand unspoken words, and I don’t know where to go next.

It could be a colossal mistake to start this up again with Bex because of the way we ended things before. So much hurt and pain and regret.

Maybe this is how we get past all of that, though. Maybe we need to latch onto this second chance. Sure… we’ve both had way too much alcohol and things are moving fast, but… I miss what we had so much, and I know she does too.

“Ask me to stay the night with you,” I say impetuously.

Bex stares at me for a long moment, weighing the cost of the answer she’ll give. It’s a nonverbal cue that comes in the form of another kiss, this one taking my breath away.

I have my answer.

I push up from the floor, snagging her hand and dragging her up with me, only to push her down onto the couch. I don’t even know where to start with her, but I’m guessing it’s with another kiss.

CHAPTER 12

Bex

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