Page 92 of Between Here and There

We both drink slowly, too slowly, like we’re trying to outlast each other, trying not to give in to the electricity sparking between us. I finish my glass first, and with a quick glance at him, I set it down on the counter and reach for the pitcher, trying to act like this isn’t affecting me.

I open the fridge to put the pitcher back, and my eyes dart to something that wasn’t there when I first got here. Strawberries. I really want one. But our stupid rules say I can’t eat in front of him. It’s fine, I suppose. I can just get one and run to my room. I grab one and make a move to retreat. But as I close the fridge door, he’s right there.

His eyes dart to the strawberry in my hand, then to my eyes, then back to the strawberry.

His voice is almost a whisper, a rough edge in his words. “Are you trying to kill me?”

I blink up at him, confused. “Sorry?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his gaze trailing from my eyes to my lips and back again. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to regain control of himself, but it’s obvious he’s losing. “You are unbelievably beautiful, Emily,” he says, the words thick with something I can't quite place. “And like this, unguarded, raw, holdingthat,” he stutters, looking frustrated, like he can’t find the right words. “I can’t…” He pauses and straightens, visibly trying to compose himself. “I’m sorry. I... Icancontrol myself. Good night.”

He makes a move to walk past me, but the tension still hangs in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. I stand there, completely still for a second, my heart hammering in my chest.

And before I can even talk myself out of it, I raise my hand instinctively to stop him, and my palm hits his chest with a soft thud. The shock of contact sends a rush of heat through me, and I look up at him, heart racing, breath catching in my throat.

He looks down at me, his eyebrows raised, surprise flashing across his features. “What are you—?”

“You’re the one killing me,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, but there’s no mistaking the intensity behind the words.

Joshua takes a slow breath, his eyes locking with mine, the space between us shrinking even more. He lifts a hand, almost as if to touch my face but stops mid-motion, his fingers hovering in the air. His gaze flickers down to my lips again, and I can feel my heart racing as the silence stretches.

He pauses, his breath uneven. He shakes his head, and instead of touching my face, he holds my hand that’s still pressed on his chest. “It’s you. You’re driving me crazy. The way you smile. The way you speak. The way you think. The way youlookevery damn day.” He steps closer, and I can feel the heat from his body, every inch of him pulling me in. “I try not to feel this way, but you…” His voice softens to a whisper, his breath warm against my skin. “You make it impossible.”

For a long moment, we just stand there, locked in this impossible space between us, both of us breathing a little too fast, both of us holding back something we’re not sure we’re ready for, but something we’ve both been wanting for so long. His gaze flickers to my lips again, and I can feel my pulse picking up.

And then, as if he’s made a decision, he turns to me and steps closer.

It’s so quiet in the kitchen now, the only sound is the soft thrum of my heartbeat, pounding in my ears.

“Can I kiss you, Emily?” he asks, in the softest voice.

Do I want him to kiss me? Hell yeah, I do. It’s been all I can think about. But... what does that mean for us? Does he want me the same way I want him? Or does he only want me tonight? This will complicate everything. We should probably talk before we do anything rash because it’s going to be messy, and we will both get hurt. That’s not even a question. I could say no. I should say no.

“That’s against the rules,” I manage to say, my voice trembling with the effort it takes to hold back.

“Screw the rules, they’re meant to be broken,” he asks, his brow arching, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“They’re meant to be followed,” I say, trying to sound sensible.

“Not in this apartment,” he says, taking a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “In here, there are no rules and everything is just… real.”

My breath catches. “So, you’re saying, in total, full honesty, that you want to kiss me… for real?”

He exhales slowly, like he’s holding back more than just words. “Since we’re being totally and fully honest,” he begins, his voice dropping an octave. “I feel obligated to tell you that I intend to do much more than just kiss you… if you’ll let me. But yes, for real.”

His hand moves to my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. “So… can I? Please?”

I swallow hard, every rational thought screaming at me to say no, to protect my heart, to avoid the fallout. But the pull I feel toward him is undeniable, magnetic, and so much stronger than my fear.

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice shaky but certain.

His smile turns into something softer, something almost reverent. He takes the strawberry from my hand and places it on the counter. “That’s for later,” he says. And before I can second-guess myself, his lips are on mine—gentle at first, like he’s asking again, but quickly deepening when I kiss him back with everything I’ve been holding in.

He’s right. Screw the rules. Screw the risks. Right now, I can’t keep pretending I don’t want this.

And then the most magical thing happens. He angles his body to face mine, and I’m trapped between him and the refrigerator. “Finally,” he whispers, as he leans down, cups my face with his hands, and closes the gap between us again.

His lips are soft, warm, exploring mine with a patience that drives me crazy. His hands slide from my face to my neck, his thumbs brushing across my skin in a way that sends shivers up my spine, igniting something deep inside me.

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