Page 63 of Here's to Now

So I do. I study the mirror, impressed at my shadow work. I’ve detailed a tree branch to look as if it’s crawling over the top of her shoulder. Little arms divide off into a tangled, bunched up mess with the wordbreathecarefully crafted in the center. The scene is full of hope wrapped inside sadness. I have no idea why I drew it, but it…came to me. Quickly, easily, and flawlessly, the design flowed out of me. It was weird. I was chanting the wordbreatheinside my head, attempting to calm myself down because I was sitting so close to Haley, who was only in a camisole and bra, so close to her skin, her sweet orange-vanilla scent. It was all too much and I had to remind to myself to take breaths or else my hand would get too unsteady to work. Before I knew it, the tattoo took on a life of its own.

“I know you see it. Now,watchit,” she tells me.

Every exhale she makes causes the tree to move, shimmy in this quiet, unsuspecting way, like it’s breathing.Oh. Fuck.I wasn’t expecting that. I meet her stare again, watching as she watches me. I notice then how unsteady her breaths are, how her normally moss-green eyes are now brighter, shining with tears.

“Hales?” I reach out, drawing her attention to the real me in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says automatically. Then, out of nowhere, she plasters herself to me, wrapping her arms around my midsection, burrowing herself into me. “Everything,” she whispers.

My arms go around her and I hug her to me. Is there something I should say? Do? Or is my silence and companionship what she needs? What if she—

All thoughts halt in their tracks as I feel her peppering light kisses on my chest. Her lips are only ghosting against me, but they feel more like claws digging into me.

Claws have never felt so good.

I don’t stop her as she makes her way north, her kisses growing bolder, harder. She makes it to my neck and darts her tongue out. I groan at the contact, constricting my arms around her tighter.

Higher, higher…home.

That’s what her lips feel like on mine. She’s gentle, careful, and timid, taking it slow, kissing me like she’s afraid I’m going to push her away or freak out. She’s out of her mind if she thinks that’s going to happen. I’ve spent way too many nights wishing I could hold her closer and feel her against me. There’s no way I’m backing away from this now.

Bringing my hand up to cradle the back of her head, capturing her to me, I take control of the kiss and coax her mouth open, sweeping my tongue inside to test the waters. I’m rewarded with a soft, muffled moan, and the collapse of her legs. I barely have a chance to grab her, thankful when she wraps her legs around my hips so we don’t go toppling over. On instinct I back her up, again sending prayers above as I close the shop room door and gently press her against it.

I remove my mouth from hers so I can nibble my way across her delicate jaw and down the smooth column of her neck. My tongue tracing against her skin elicits a loud moan and I move my mouth back to hers to quiet her down before Farrell or one of the other guys hears her.

It’s then I realize what’s happening: I’m kissing Haley.Haley. The girl who’s slowly become a true best friend, a silent companion.

Kissing.

And it feels good. Magical. Her mouth was made for mine, and with the way our bodies meld together, they were clearly made for one another too. Nothing about this feels wrong. In fact, it almost feelstooright, too perfect, like at any second this wall of euphoria we’ve managed to build in the last few moments is going to come crashing down in a loud, hard smash.

Shit.

I pull away, my breathing hard and rushed as I hold her there and rest my forehead against hers. Why am I kissing Haley? Why would I mess up everything we have going for us? Do I have to turn everything in my life into a complete fucked up mess? Ican’tkiss Haley. I can’t do anything with Haley. She’s a friend, a confidant.

She’s someone I’m not supposed to be kissing.

Although it’s been six months since we’ve had contact, I still feel this bond between us, this pull like our souls are connected. I don’t want to break that connection by adding anything even potentially damaging to the mix.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her lips brushing against mine as she speaks. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” I try to say, but my voice comes out cracked and hoarse. Clearing my throat, I pull back and gaze into her eyes. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have…” I glance down to her legs wrapped around my waist and to my hand that was slowly creeping up her body to places I have no right to be touching. “Yeah. I just shouldn’t have.”

She nods and squeezes her legs tighter. I almost—almost—go right back to her mouth, but I pull back at the last second. However, I don’t back away once she places both feet on the ground. I can’t. It’s like I’m glued to the spot, my eyes on hers, watching and waiting for what she’ll do next.

If she’s smart, she’ll push me away, because right now I want nothing more than to step into her and take her lips between mine, run my hands over every single curve she possesses, and bury myself in her warmth. I want to do this all despite telling myself I shouldn’t, that I need to back away. I cannot cross this line any farther with her.

But damn if I don’t want to.

I’m saved from making any other stupid ass decisions when someone bangs loudly on the door, causing us both to jump.

“Yo! If you two are done dry humping, we’re closing up shop.”

Closing?“What?”

“Check the clock, dick breath. It’s ten ’till close,” Farrell hollers.

I glance at the skull-shaped timepiece on the wall next the door and notice he’s right. Shit. Where the fuck did the time go? Has it really been almost an hour and a half since we came back here?

“Yeah, yeah. We’re coming.”

“Oh, I bet you are.” I hear smugness in Farrell’s voice on the other side of the oak door in front me of me. Fucking joke ass security cameras—why do we have them in the shop rooms again?

I flip the cameras off and can hear Farrell laughing from the front of the shop.

I glance down to Haley, who’s trying hard to suppress her laughter. When she catches my narrowed eyes on her, she tilts her chin up, her eyes sparkling.

“What?” She shrugs. “It was funny.”

I roll my eyes, toss her shirt back to her, and practically drag her out of the tattoo parlor, throwing a middle finger over my shoulder to my douchebag coworkers at the front counter.

---