Page 81 of Left-Hand Larceny
“They’re c-colorful. Close-up. A-alive. Your parents would’ve picked b-black-and-white architecture or b-b-bleak landscapes. These…” I look around the room. “This entire s-space. It’s warm. I-inviting. It feels l-lived-in.”
She exhales, like whatever nerves were banded around her chest just loosened. “That’s kind of the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.”
“Y-you should t-take photos in Iceland. I w-would pay you to t-take them.”
Her head tilts. “Iceland?”
“It’s r-rugged and w-wild and beautiful.” Like you. “I’ll show y-y-you.”
Her eyes widen slightly, surprised. Maybe at the offer. Maybe that I mean it.
Then she steps into me and presses her mouth to mine.
Her lips are soft, but eager. Sure. It’s like she’s made up her mind about this, us, and now she’s waiting to see if I’ll follow.
I do.
I always will.
I kiss her back gently at first, letting her set the pace, her body pressing into mine, her fingers brushing my jaw like she’s memorizing the shape of me. A thought nothing could top our kiss at the Stand. I was wrong. There are no pads between us, and I can feel the way her heart pounds against me.
But when I deepen it, she stills. Not in fear. Not pulling away. Just—hesitant.
I draw back, letting a sliver of air between us. She sways after me. “Sadie?”
Her eyes pop open, her lips are open, pink, shiny from my tongue. She reaches for me. “More”
“A-are you s-sure?” My voice is low.
She nods quickly, then frowns. “Are you not?”
“I’ve b-been sure for a-a while.”
That earns the smallest smile. But it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I w-want you, Sadie.” I say. “In a-any way you’ll let me h-have you. Even if this i-is the a-a-adrenaline, or y-you trying to f-forget, I w-want you. B-but not if y-you aren’t certain.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to stop. I just…”
She bites her lip.
I wait.
“I know it’s probably a bad idea,” she murmurs. “I know it’s going to make everything harder, but I still want to. Just this once. Just tonight.”
“Just t-tonight,” I echo.
“It won’t change anything between us.” Her hand flattens against my chest, fingers curling against my shirt.
I don’t believe her. Not really. This is going to change things. But I nod, because she needs me to. And because it would take a herd of disgruntled reindeer and probably the rebirth of Viking culture, to make me walk away.
I lean in again, kiss her slow. She lets me, but there’s something holding her back. Her mouth moves with mine, but it’s cautious. Her hands don’t wander. Her breath catches, shallow and too light.
When I pull back, her lashes flutter.
“Tell me the t-truth,” I say. “What’s g-going on?”
She hesitates.
