Page 53 of If This Was a Movie

She grinds against it, a tiny mewl leaving her lips as she does. My mind races, trying to think of the best way to get her naked and writhing beneath me, how to get more and get it fast, and?—

Flood lights turn on next door, nearly blinding me as I hear the jingle of dog tags, then the bark of my neighbor’s Jack Russell terrier. I groan quietly as I break the kiss, the groan much different than just moments before as I press my forehead to Jules’, our heavy breathing coming out in visible puffs in the cold air.

“Nathan, is that you?” Mrs. Tarte yells over the fence.

“Yes, Mrs. Tarte, it’s just me,” I say reluctantly.

“Oh, goodness, Buster thought it was an animal or something! I could have sworn I heard growls!”

I watch Jules’s eyes light up, her lips rolling beneath her teeth as she fights back a laugh. At least she’s not embarrassed or pulling away.

“Nope, just me,” I say, waiting for her to go the fuck away.

“Oh, that’s good. How are you, dear?”

“I’m great, you?”

“Oh, just peachy. Now, you remember to send that Sophie of yours over tomorrow, I made some special cookies for her!”

I send a silent prayer up to anyone who will listen that she’ll leave.

“Sure will, have a great night, Mrs. Tarte,” I say as I hear the jingle of tags move back toward her house, Buster deciding we aren’t some great threat to the safety of the neighborhood.

“You too, Nathan.” I think we’re free, and then she says, “Next time, maybe do your canoodling inside, yeah?”

I look to the sky, bright stars overhead, and wonder why the fuck I stayed in this way too small of a town where everyone knows everyone’s business and has absolutely zero sense of privacy.

“Got it,” I grumble.

“Night, Nathan! Good night, Julianne!”

“Night, Mrs. Tarte!” Jules yells through a laugh.

The door finally closes right before Jules bursts out laughing, me following suit. When the laughter settles, I sigh, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

“You should get inside,” I say when she shivers.

“Yeah.” She bites her lips then looks up at me, a small, nervous smile on her lips. “It was a good date, Nathan.”

Something in me explodes, and I fight the sudden urge to do a victory dance.

“Yeah, it was,” I reply, feeling like I conquered Everest. “Goodnight, Jules.” I press my lips to hers once more before stepping away, holding her hand until she finds her footing, her legs a bit shaky. I don’t bother to hide the small, proud smile at that, and she rolls her eyes.

“Night, Nate.”

“Night, Jules,” I say, then stand there as she closes and locks the door.

A good date, indeed.

TWENTY-TWO

JULES

“So you kissed him?” Ava asks, brushing back the hair of one of the older girls for tonight's winter recital.

Harper is helping to make sure all costumes fit right and curtains open in less than thirty minutes, but the flutter of butterflies in my stomach isn’t from the impending performance. I know the kids are going to absolutely kill it, no matter what.

No, it’s the reminder that Nate and I kissed on Sunday.

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