Page 58 of Over the Moon

“Then admit that you want to kiss me, too,” I said, as I pressed my lips to the inside of her palm.

“You already know that I want to kiss you, but that doesn’t change anything. It can’t go anywhere.”

“That’s a ridiculous reason not to let this happen,” I said, happy that she was finally admitting she felt the same way I did. “I mean, I’m assuming you’ve kissed other men before, right?”

I kissed the inside of her wrist.

“Obviously. I’m a grown woman.” Her words were breathy.

“And they aren’t here now. So just because you kiss someone doesn’t mean you have to know where it’s going. It’s just a kiss.”

“Fair point. And maybe we’ll kiss and hate it,” she said, sounding ridiculously hopeful that it would be awful, when I was fairly certain it wouldn’t be.

“One can hope,” I teased.

“Well, I can’t kiss you now, you have a fever.”

“I’ve been hot for you before today. Don’t let a fever scare you off.” I chuckled as my hand moved around the side of her neck.

She leaned closer, eyes falling closed as her lips were just a breath away.

“Oh, my god,” she said, pulling back abruptly. “Oh, no!”

And she took off running down the hall.

I pushed to my feet. The ibuprofen clearly kicked in because I felt much better now.

I heard her heaving, and I groaned as I pushed the door open and found her hovered over the toilet.

“Clark, you can’t be in here!” she shouted.

I reached for a washcloth in the vanity and rinsed it with cool water before wringing it out and folding it in half and placing it on the back of her neck beneath her hair. “Just relax. I come from a big family. I’ve seen plenty of vomit in my lifetime. Rafe has a sensitive stomach.”

She heaved again, and I held her hair back.

We sat there with her puking and me crouched down behind her, rubbing her back.

After she continued to get sick over and over, it finally stopped.

“I cannot believe I just puked in front of you for thirty minutes after you were about to kiss me. I’ve definitely hit rock bottom,” she said, a sad chuckle escaping as she flushed the toilet and then leaned over the sink and rinsed her mouth out several times before dropping to sit on the floor.

I dropped to sit beside her, pulling her into my chest and wrapping my arms around her. I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

The fact that she let me see this vulnerable side of her, that she allowed me to stay and comfort her—it did something to me.

“I thought you were about to kiss me?” I laughed.

“Well, I told you it was a bad idea. We were cursed from the start.”

“How are we cursed? Nothing happened… yet.”

“We were about to kiss, and then I puked violently over and over. And now I don’t even know if I can muster the energy to walk home. I’d say this was a bust.” She groaned as she attempted to push to her feet and stumbled.

I caught her, quickly scooping her up in my arms and carrying her out of the bathroom.

“Why are you carrying me like a baby?” she said, and her voice sounded exhausted, like she had no fight in her at the moment.

I wasn’t surprised. She was sick, and I was still coming out of this, so I knew how bad she must be feeling.

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