Page 30 of What Broke First
When it ended, Sarah opened the door. “Goodnight, Matt.”
He nodded, stepping into the night air.
“Goodnight, Sarah.”
She shut the door and leaned against it, heart hammering.
Matt walked to his car in a haze, every nerve ending alive. That kiss had been nothing and everything. It hadn’t satisfied anything, only awakened the ache he’d been trying to ignore.
He got behind the wheel, turned on Cruisin’ by Smokey Robinson, smiled widely, and just sat there. He stared at the steering wheel, fingers twitching with the urge to turn back. But he didn’t.
Back inside, Sarah pressed her fingertips to her lips, stunned by how much she still felt. The kiss had been soft, almost innocent, but it cracked something open.
She sank onto the couch, wine forgotten, show paused, the echo of Matt’s kiss lingering like the hum of a song she wasn’t ready to forget.
Matt got home and dropped his keys onto the counter, still caught in the orbit of that kiss. It looped in his mind like a highlight reel, every tiny detail amplified. The curve of her lips, the way she smelled like red wine and lavender, the quiet way she said goodnight.
He pulled out his phone and typed:
Matt: How can something so innocent make me feel so naughty?
He hesitated for half a second, then hit send.
Almost instantly, he remembered their phone call the other night. The way her laugh filled the silence. The way it felt like coming home.
So he took a shot.
Matt: Can you call me?
She called within seconds.“Miss me already?” she teased, breathy with the kind of smile he could hear.
“I knew you were sitting there just waiting for an excuse,” he said.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I was actually...”
“Watching a baking show. Drinking wine. Wearing those fuzzy socks with the sheep on them.”
She laughed. “Okay, stalker.”
“You sent me a picture of your socks last week. I’m just proving I pay attention.”
She fell quiet for a beat. Then, softer, “That kiss... it got to me.”
“Me too,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t expect it to hit that hard.”
“It was like remembering something and discovering it all over again at the same time.”
He let out a breath. “You always did talk pretty when you were a little tipsy.”
She laughed again, this time so hard she snorted.“
There it is,” he said. “The snort laugh. God, I missed that.”
“You’re an idiot,” she murmured, but she was smiling.
“Do you remember that time we got kicked out of that cooking class?” Matt asked.
Sarah laughed. “Yes. You said saffron was a scam and tried to make risotto with beer.”
