Page 38 of Unforgettable

“I didn’t eat any of it without you,” I admit. “And it’s probably too cold to enjoy now anyway.”

“Did you have any plans to actually eat and post anything tonight? Or did you just lure me out here to butter me up for the fake boyfriend conversation?”

My smile turns a little smug. “I didn’t think it would be the first thing we spoke about when I picked you up, but you started talking about sex and I figured I would just go for it.”

Shaking his head, he buries his face in his hands. “I still can’t believe I said that to you,” he says on a groan.

“Why? We’ve always been honest.” I think back to the very first time I met Reeve and how even when the words didn’t do the talking, his face and body did it for him. Now we know each other better, the truth has no trouble being told.

“I know, but it still comes as a shock to me how easy it is to tell you anything. Even at my own expense.”

“I like that,” I confess. “I like that there’s no room for miscommunication, which is a relief, because I don’t think I’m very good at reading people.”

Reeve shakes his head vehemently. “Not true.”

I look at him pointedly, and his cheeks bloom, giving away exactly what he’s thinking about. “Are you going to tell me?”

He swallows hard and moves a little closer to me, our knees knocking. “That first night?” His voice is low and husky, and every part of me stands at attention. “I didn’t have to say anything, and you knew. You knew what to say, what to do, what would be too much.”

I don’t tell him he was easy to read, because it wouldn’t be the whole truth. That night there was something in every move he made that resonated within me. His walk. The way he sat. The small, slight, continuous hitches in his breathing.

Everything about him made sense, and as if on autopilot, I knew what to do.

“Can fake boyfriends kiss?” I ask him, missing my lips on his, feeling my resolve slip away very quickly.

A pained expression crosses Reeve’s face, and I’m almost certain he’s going to reject the idea, and he should. I just don’t want him to.

“I think they can kiss if they’re being fake boyfriends.”

“This isn’t that is it?” I ask, dejected.

Placing a hand on either side of my face, Reeve leans into me, till we’re only a breath apart. “It’s not. But never have I ever wanted to kiss someone more than I do right now.”

I circle my hands around Reeve’s wrists just to keep him in place. “I think we’ve butchered this game.”

“I don’t think it matters if no one else is playing beside you and me, does it?”

Chuckling, I move my hands to his face. I mirror his actions and bring my mouth to his cheek, kissing him. Because I have to. Because I want to. Because at this point, there isn’t much of a difference.

“Let’s get up and walk around before I lose all my self-control and common sense,” I tell him, rearing my head back.

His eyes are closed as he says, “Unfortunately, that sounds like a good idea.”

Standing, Reeve looks down at the half-eaten plates between us and then back at me. “I feel terrible we didn’t eat the food and you didn’t get to do your whole Meals and Melodies experience.”

Bending, I condense the food and pick up the plate. “There’s nothing for you to feel bad about. And that wasn’t the night’s purpose anyway.”

“I wanted to see you in action,” he grumbles.

“You’re making it sound a lot more prestigious and impressive than it actually is.”

Reeve nudges my shoulder as we pass a bin and I throw away our leftovers. When my hands are free, he nudges my shoulder. “It is what I say it is.”

“You’re here for the whole summer, aren’t you?”

He nods, and I come face-to-face with another reason why anything between Reeve and me can only ever be temporary. Because Vermont isn’t permanent for him.

It’s the biggest dose of reality, and that extra push I need to keep moving us away from the constant temptation of kissing and touching and crossing lines we both can’t uncross.

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