Danica held her hands up. “I wasn’t naming names.”
Maggie’s smirk deepened, shimmying her shoulders suggestively.
Pete blushed, burying her face in her hands as laughter rippled around the table.
Izzy chanced another glance at Kiera, only to find her already looking. It lasted less than a second — just long enough to send a jolt through Izzy’s chest — before Kiera looked away, pretending to focus on her plate. Izzy took a long sip of her drink, willing herself to shake off the feeling.
After dinner, Pete and Danica excused themselves for a “walk on the beach,” which everyone at the table understood to mean they were sneaking off to make out in the dunes. Maggie,still groggy from her pain meds, mumbled something about watching TV before shuffling off to her room.
Izzy lingered in the kitchen, rinsing her glass, aware of Kiera moving nearby, stacking dishes. The silence between them was palpable, tangible in its intensity.
Kiera leaned her hip against the counter. “Sorry, was I being too distracting?”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “You’re really never going to let me forget I said that.”
“Of course I won’t.”
Izzy smirked. “I stand by it.”
Kiera shut a cupboard door, hooking her drying towel over her shoulder. “You’re being so weird. And every time I feel like we’re getting close, you leave.” She shook her head. “Am I reading something wrong? I just — if I did something, if I made you uncomfortable, just tell me.”
Izzy swallowed hard. “You’re not reading it wrong.”
Kiera turned to face her, arms crossed, her expression skeptical. “Then what’s with all the walking away? What do you want?”
Izzy knew she had two choices: lie and save face or tell the truth and risk her dignity and her friendship.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. And then, before she could second-guess herself, before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped forward, grabbed Kiera’s face between her hands, and kissed her.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was all the frustration, confusion, and unspoken longing crashing together in one reckless act.
For half a second, Kiera froze.
Then she melted.
Her hands found Izzy’s waist, pulling her closer. Izzy could feel the warmth of her, the way they fit together. The worldoutside the kitchen — the waves, the murmurs of wind through the open doors, the distant sound of Maggie’s TV — faded into nothing.
Then, Kiera pulled back, breathless, searching Izzy’s face like she was trying to make sense of what had just happened.
“Izzy,” she whispered.
Izzy’s chest heaved. Kiera’s lilac perfume was fresh and intoxicating, and Izzy wanted to bury her face in Kiera’s neck. “Yeah?”
Kiera’s gaze flickered down to her lips, then back up. “Is this a good idea?”
Izzy had no idea, but she wanted to find out. Instead of answering, she kissed Kiera again. Thankfully, this time, Kiera didn’t hesitate.
Her hands slid up Izzy’s arms, tentative at first, then firmer, fingers curling into the fabric of Izzy’s hoodie like she was anchoring herself there. Izzy sighed into the kiss, hands trailing down to grip Kiera’s hips, tugging her closer.
Kiera tasted like wine, and Izzy couldn’t think straight. Didn’t want to think straight.
She sure hoped Kiera wasn’t thinking straight, either.
Kiera’s fingers skated under the hem of Izzy’s hoodie, brushing against her skin. The touch sent a shiver down Izzy’s spine, and she deepened the kiss, pressing Kiera back against the counter, her hands splayed against her ribs.
Kiera made a quiet sound in the back of her throat, her fingers tightening against Izzy’s hips, and suddenly this felt real. Like something inevitable. Something that had been waiting for them both to stop running from it.
And then, just as Izzy was starting to lose herself completely, Kiera hesitated.