Page 83 of Hidden Echoes

My fingers tighten, pulling her closer, needing more, needing all of her. She gasps into the kiss, and I swallow the sound, deepening it, letting the hunger take over.

Just wide eyes and parted lips when we pull away, and I realize—this is the first time I’ve ever seen her speechless.

She takes a step back, blinking up at me like she’s trying to remember how to breathe.

The teasing spark in her eyes? Completely gone. Instead, there’s something else—something quieter, heavier.

And maybe I should say something, crack a joke, shift the mood back to normal. But I don’t.

Because I like this.

I like knowing that I get under Mia’s skin just as much as she gets under mine.

“You—” Mia starts, then stops, shaking her head like she’s trying to reboot herself. She gestures vaguely at me. "You're so grumpy," she pouts, dropping the waffles into the cart.

"And you are impossible."

She shoots me an innocent smile, any trace of shyness long gone, before skipping down the aisle, grabbing random items like a chaotic little menace.

I should stop her. I really should.

But instead, I just push the cart and watch.

A few minutes later, she holds up a bag of giant marshmallows, her eyes shining. "Can we make hot chocolate and put these in?"

I shrug. "Take it."

Her smile widens as she tosses the bag into the cart.

Moments later, she reappears holding a jar of Nutella. "This goes great with waffles."

I roll my eyes. "Of course you’d get Nutella."

She gasps, appalled. "Do you have something against Nutella?"

"No."

"Good." She throws it into the cart and moves on.

With each new item, she glances at me, waiting for a reaction. But I don’t complain. I just observe.

After filling nearly half the store into the cart, Mia finally stops in the middle of the aisle, hands on her hips, surveying her collection like it’s a masterpiece.

"I think we have everything now," she declares proudly.

I arch an eyebrow, taking in the overflowing cart: candy, chips, juice boxes, waffles, Nutella, dinosaur nuggets, and somehow, an industrial-sized bag of gummy bears.

"Are you sure?" I ask, crossing my arms.

Mia tilts her head in thought, then suddenly claps her hands as if struck by divine inspiration. "Popcorn!"

Before I can react, she dashes off.

I let out a long-suffering sigh and follow, maneuvering the now-squeaky cart.

When I find her, she’s standing in front of the popcorn shelf, holding two different bags with an expression of pure existential crisis.

"Zane, which do you prefer? Extra butter or caramel?"

---