Page 60 of Born in the Spring

“Morning,” she says to Mom as she sits up, combing her fingers through her hair. Chill. Normal.

“Morning,” I chime in next, taking the cue too seriously, becausethat’snot normal. I’m not amorningperson.

Elara’s lips twitch as she tries not to smile, but I can’t help myself—I do.

“Morning,” Mom echoes, with a side eye at me, drawn out enough for both me and Elara to notice and exchange a sideways glance before I follow Mom’s next side eyes to the table. To Elara’s jacket. To her purse. Then back to Elara.

That button I undid on her top is still undone, along with the other buttons styled to be unbuttoned, but maybe Mom will recognize it that way—as a style.

Though it does appear like Elara’s half undressed, and I had something to do with it. But we’re on separate couches, so Mom has no reason to not believe we stayed up too late talking and passed out from exhaustion, which is true too—

I’m overthinking.

And Elara’s getting away.

“You two going to help me open this place since you’re already here?” Mom’s calling out on her way toward the kitchen area, with Elara already following behind her.

“Coming right up,” she answers to Mom’s moving on, a relief in her voice, and I jump up, and over the edge of the table, to catch her by the wrist. She spins to me and I tug her in, pulling her closer to the couches.

I kiss her, because I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to stop myself now, and to see if she kisses me back.

She does, but it’s quick, a rise into me, then a fall to her heels.

“Let me kiss you forever,” I say low, knowing she’s mine,but needing her to officially claim me as hers, even if it’s just a whisper in the dark for now.

My smile makes another appearance at her breathed laugh, the deepest blush that pinkens her cheeks.

She puts some space between us, and I tell the spike in my heart rate not to stress out. She glances over her shoulder to where my mom is, but with the loud clinking and clattering coming from the kitchen, Mom’s probably cooking up a fast breakfast to make sure we’re fed.

“We, uh. . .” That worry returns to her gaze, and I follow her trail without her saying.

“I know,” I assure her, adding with a stroke of my fingers against hers, “I’ll protect you.”

I’ll protectus. Again, I know our situation. We’re in this together. We have things to figure out, and I’m not letting the media assholes make her run from us when she’s finally here, she’s finally looking back, she’s finally fallen into me.

Elara laughs likesheshould be the one protectingme, and I hold in an argument as I pull her into me again, and she stays, her hands splaying on my abdomen as mine hold firm to her hips. She’s still being cautious, and she might think I’m not, but we canbothhear Mom in the kitchen, us still hidden from view.

So I lean in, my muscles flexing into the curl of Elara’s fingers when I brush my lips along the shell of her ear. “I didn’t get to tell you last night that you taste better than I’ve imagined.”

She tilts her face up to mine when I pull back to rest my forehead against hers. “How often have you imagined?”

“Every day,” I say on a sigh. “I fantasized about you all the time, but you were never a fantasy. I’ve never felt somethingso real in my life,” I tell her, pulling her in more from the small of her back as her hands move up my chest. “I’ve been dying for you.”

“Don’t put it that way,” she breathes out, sharp, with a grip on the nape of my neck and closed eyes.

Thislaugh at myself is a low gust of air and a shake of my head. “I’m sorry.”

She loosens her grip, sliding her hand down my chest as she presses her forehead against my heart. “What have you done to me?”

The question sends another laugh fluttering through me. “I hope it’s the same thing you’ve done to me.”

Elara groans, but when she looks back up at me, she’s smiling—until noises cease from the kitchen, and she jolts from my arms, heading in that direction as if Mom is heading in ours.

I’m experiencing another wide beam moment as I watch her go, taking a minute to relive every moment that happened from here last night to here now before we both have to act like it’s just any other day.

But my beam doesn’t waver, becausewe’re real.

Twenty-Five

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