Page 78 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
Just then Hart bursts out from the hotel, looking panicked as his gaze tracks from one side of the street to the other. When he spots me, he stills.
I can no longer feel the cold. Or the pain I experienced while watching him with his date. All I feel is longing. An inexplicable pull toward him. But my feet won’t move. I remain planted in place on the sidewalk.
He jogs the few paces to where I’m standing outside the liquor store.
“Alessia.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Indulge in Spontaneity
“Alessia.” Hart’s deep voice lingers over my name, as though he’s savoring the sound of it.
I grip my clutch in one hand and the brown paper bag containing the whiskey in the other. I want to ask him where his date is, but I can’t bring myself to say the words out loud. Then they’d be real, and I’d have to hear him say her name instead of mine.
“Hi,” I whisper instead.
“You look ...stunning,” he says, his eyes moving from mine, down the length of my form-fitting gown.
A flash of memories races through my brain all at once of our last night together in Aspen—the heat of his mouth at my throat, the way he held me close and made me ache with desire, the helpless groan he made when we came together. Memories that will now only live on in my imagination.
“You’re not here with anyone?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Where are you headed?” He notices the brown paper bag in my hands and maybe the fact that we’re standing outside the florescent-lit liquor store. It’s embarrassing to know that my plan of drowning my heartbreak in alcohol isn’t as secret as I hoped.
“Where’s your date?” I finally ask.
He tilts his chin. “Date?” Realization flashes across his features. “Oh. That was my cousin Abigail.”
Hiscousin.
Relief floods through me. The idea that he’d moved on already was almost more than I could bear.
“Hayes’s sister?”
He shakes his head. “No. Hayes doesn’t have any siblings. Abigail is a cousin from my mother’s side. She’s here visiting from Maryland, and my mother invited her along. You didn’t think ...”
I duck my chin. “I thought you were dating her.”
“I’m not dating anyone.”
Neither of us moves or looks away, unwilling to break the spell, to end this perfect quiet moment.
Talking seems unnecessary. The solemn stillness that settles around us is warm, like a blanket on a cool day. Utterly calming and perfect and so comfortable I feel like I could melt.
“What do we do now?” I ask.
“Walk with me,” he says like it’s the easiest thing. Like we haven’t broken up. Like I haven’t shattered everything between us with my neurotic anxieties.
“Okay,” I agree.
We walk along in silence on the dimly lit street for a few paces before Hart stops me.
He lifts my face with his fingers under my chin, and without warning, he presses an urgent kiss to my mouth. It’s ... claiming. There’s no other way to describe this kiss.
I don’t want it to end, but the rational part of my brain kicks into action. With a press of my hand to the firm wall of his chest, I push him back a step.
