Page 69 of The Promises We Broke
The music started again. A slow, sweet ballad that seemed designed specifically for moments like this, and I found myself reaching for his hand before I could think better of it.
He led me into the makeshift dance area, one hand settling at my waist while the other held mine gently but firmly. We moved together like we'd been doing this for years instead of minutes, and I let myself melt into the solid warmth of his chest.
"This is nice," I whispered against his shoulder.
"This is terrifying," he whispered back, making me laugh.
"That too."
Around us, other couples swayed to the music, lost in their own worlds. But I was hyperaware of the eyes on us. Curious, approving, speculative. By tomorrow, everyone in town would know that Gage Farrington and Billie Schulster had danced together at the harvest festival. They'd know we were... whatever this was.
"Regrets?" Gage asked, and I could hear the vulnerability in his voice.
I pulled back just enough to look at him, seeing my own nervousness reflected in his eyes. "Not yet."
His smile was radiant. "Good. Because I'm planning to kiss you when this song ends."
My breath caught. "You are?"
"I am. If that's okay with you."
I looked around at the crowd, at Marie with her phone out obviously taking pictures, at Blake and Emma watching us with matching grins from beside the cider stand.
"Everyone's watching," I said.
"I don't care," he said simply. "Do you?"
Did I? I'd spent so many years being careful, protecting my heart, avoiding exactly this kind of public declaration. But standing here in Gage's arms, swaying to music under stringlights with the scent of autumn in the air, I realized I was tired of being careful too.
"No," I said. "I don't care."
The song wound down, and Gage's hand tightened on my waist. He was looking at me like I was the answer to every question he'd ever asked, and when he started to lean down, I rose up on my tiptoes to meet him halfway.
The kiss was everything our teenage kiss had been and more. Soft and sweet and full of years of longing. But it was also different, deeper, infused with the weight of adult emotions and the knowledge of what we'd both lost when he left.
When we finally broke apart, the crowd around us erupted in applause and whistles. I buried my face in Gage's chest, half embarrassed and half giddy, while he laughed and held me close.
"Well," he said when the noise died down, "I guess that's official now."
"I guess it is," I agreed, not lifting my head from his shoulder.
"Billie?"
"Mmm?"
"Look at me."
I reluctantly raised my head to meet his eyes, expecting to see smugness or satisfaction. Instead, I saw something that looked like wonder.
"I've wanted to do that again for eleven years," he said quietly.
"Was it worth the wait?" I asked, trying for lightness but hearing the real question underneath.
His answer was another kiss, shorter but no less sweet, that left me breathless and clinging to his shirt.
"Definitely worth the wait," he murmured against my lips.
The rest of the evening passed in a haze of shared laughter and stolen touches. We sampled every food booth, listened to the local high school band perform surprisingly good covers of classic rock songs, and ran into what felt like every personin Willowbrook, all of whom seemed delighted by this new development in the town's ongoing romantic drama.
