Page 79 of Can't Kiss the Chef

“Kiss me.”

I face him. His face is expressionless.

I inhale deeply, voicing what I want for once, not caring what everyone else wants from me. I want Byron and I want him to know that.

“Bring your index finger to your nose three times,” he pauses the weird request before adding. “With each hand.”

“What?”

“Please just do it,” He pleads while demonstrating the task.

I adhere to his request without any blunders, but now I’m wondering when Byron’s idea of foreplay changed.

It’s when he asks me to stand on my left leg for thirty seconds that I fully understand what’s going on.

“Are you giving me a field sobriety test?”

“Yes. Now tell me when you’re standing so I can start my timer,” he says the words so seriously I can’t help but break out into laughter.

“Fine, if you are not going to do that, you’ll have to say the alphabet backwards.”

I stand on one foot and wrap my arms around his neck. I slowly pull his head towards mine until our eyes are locked on each other’s.

“Byron, I couldn’t do that if I was sober. Yes, I drank tonight. Yes, I’m still a little tipsy, but no, that doesn’t mean I’m going to regret this.” When his body doesn’t relax, I just go for it.

“By, you’re the one that I want. You’ve always cared. You cared enough to know that I normally would want space after the draft night debacle. When it comes to you, though, I never wanted that space. I just wanted to know that you’d always be there for me.”

“I will be,” his voice is laced with emotion. The yearning I know we both feel. The relief that we both want each other. The reassurance we both needed.

“I know, because this whole time you have been, and I didn’t make it easy.”

“You’ve never made it easy, Pips, that’s why I love you.”

I’m sure my eyes look crazy. That’s not where I was expecting this night to go. Deep down, I think I always knew that it was him. He’s always seen me in the way that I’d hoped my parents would.

“You really love me?”

“I do–” I’m sure he was going to list all of the reasons why, but he can tell me all those in the morning. Instead I pull him into the kiss I’ve been craving since he joined me on the balcony.

The kiss is perfect. It’s tender and sure. Loving and passionate.

“I love you too, but that doesn’t mean you can stop bringing me coffee to class.”

Byron’s eyes brighten to the most miraculous shade of blue. It’s like a crystal ball showing all of his emotions.

“I think the party is winding down and since we helped set up, I don’t think anyone would miss us if we snuck away.”

31

Byron

Lola drags me through the apartment, dodging the stragglers that are left. Most of our friends had plans to go to the club, so I’m sure the ones that are still here will join them soon. At least for their sake, I hope they are leaving soon because Lola and I have a lot of missed time to make up for.

I can’t imagine what a five-foot-three girl pulling a six-foot-one man through the apartment with the will of a linebacker forcing his way through the offensive line looks like.

She stops abruptly when we are in front of the guest room. Her eyes lock on the door knob, like she’s forgotten how they work. I rest my hand on the small of her back, and I guide her through the bedroom door. I place my hands on both hershoulders and gently turn her until she is facing me. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into a hug. The embrace feels like coming home after a long stretch of away games.

I place a kiss on the top of her head, and then I grip her chin with my thumb and index finger and guide her eyes to mine.

---