Page 94 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
And then we crash.
The kiss is a fucking disaster in the best way.
It’s cereal and cinnamon and a week’s worth of almosts.
It’s her fingers tangling in my hair, tugging like she’s mad about wanting me, like she’s fighting the exact thing she’s giving into.
It’s me pushing her back gently until she hits the counter because I need something—anything—to keep from falling through the floor.
It’s heat and hunger and this underlying thread of finally, and I don’t even know when it happened, but she’s not just someone I flirt with anymore. She’s not just banter, tension, and snark.
She’s the person I wanted to talk to when the guys were annoying when my body ached after camp, and when I realized I was eating alone again and didn’t want to. She’s the person who somehow made this house feel less empty in the past few days.
She tastes like late-night texts and all the things I didn’t let myself hope for.
I kiss her as if I’ve earned it, as if she’s mine, and I’ve always known it—even before I had the nerve to admit it.
Sarah barks once. Loud.
We split apart like two teenagers caught necking in a church parking lot—breathing like idiots, eyes wide, reality smacking us right in the face.
Olivia’s lips are kiss-swollen and flushed, her breath hitching in that way that makes my brain forget how to function. Her eyes—glassy and dazed—look up at me like she’s unsure whether to slap me or climb me.
Honestly, I’d accept either.
“Well,” she whispers, voice rough and uneven. “That was . . .”
“A public service.” The words slip out before my brain catches up, which is probably for the best, considering my current mental state is somewhere between panic and rebooting.
Her brow lifts. “A public service?”
“Yeah.” I swipe my thumb across her bottom lip—because I’m clearly not done touching her. “I just single-handedly saved the greater tri-state area from the seismic energy of our unresolved tension.”
She blinks. “You’re absurd. Plus, we’re not even in the tri-state area.”
I shrug my shoulder. “You kissed me back.”
She exhales, chest rising like she’s trying to level herself out. “I did.”
“And?” I ask like I’m not hanging on her every syllable. Like I didn’t just fall for her mouth, her laugh, her entire existence, in the span of three-point-five seconds.
She takes a step back. I let her. Barely.
“I don’t know what that was,” she mutters, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as if I hadn’t just had my hands all over her. “And before you say something smug about it, Lucian, I’m already spiraling.”
I smile. “You’re always spiraling.”
She throws me a glare that’s far too weak to be effective. “You’re the worst.”
“I try.” I glance at Sarah, who’s now sitting like a smug little narc in the corner, her tail wagging with maximum self-satisfaction. “She barked on purpose, didn’t she?”
“She’s a menace.” Olivia crosses her arms. “She probably sensed I was about to commit to something reckless.”
I grin. “If that was reckless, I hope you make a whole career out of bad decisions.”
She groans, dragging a hand over her face. “Why are you like this?”
“Genetics. Poor supervision. That glow in the dark energy drink I sponsored last year?”
