Page 53 of Latte Girl
I have him in my arms, his lips barely an inch from mine, but he’s miles away. I tip my head up and kiss him again, trying to close the distance. The heat between us grows quickly. He backs me against the wall and I cling to him, seeking a reassurance from his body that I can’t get from hiswords.
He claims my mouth with an urgency that leaves me breathless, as if he’s taking my air as his own. I feel his hands reach inside my jacket again and then slide up under my shirt, sending shockwaves scattering across my bare skin. He’s cold to the touch from standing outside, but his hands warm with the heat of my body. He slips them around to my back, digging into my ribs as he presses himself even harderagainstme.
“Jordan,” I sigh, breaking the kiss, “talktome.”
He has his eyes closed, and he leans forward to touch his foreheadagainstmine.
“Do youeverfeel—”
He sucks his lip between his teeth and cutshimselfoff.
“Feel what?”Iurge.
“Like you’re letting yourself down? Like you’re wasting the best parts of whoyouare?”
I have no idea what he’s getting at, but I close my eyes too and think about his words. I think about the afternoons I used to spend at Cuppa Joe, jotting down blog ideas in a notebook I haven’t touched for almost a year. I think about the dozens of business cards for food bloggers and cafe owners Mel’s collected for me, still sitting in a box in my closet. I think about all the ideas I’ve stored up inside me for so long they’ve gonestale.
“Yeah,” I answer him. “Ido.”
He lifts his head up but keeps his arms wrapped around me. We both openoureyes.
“You make me feel like I don’t have to do that anymore. I just don’t knowhowyet.”
His voice sounds less like a soliloquy now, and more like he’s really talking to me. I take it as anencouragingsign.
“To be honest,” I tell him, “you’re really freakingmeout.”
He cracks just a fraction of a smile, but it’s enough to start melting the block of dread that’s frozen in my chest. “I have a lot to explain. I want to do it right. That’s why I don’t want to talk here, when we’re sorushed.”
I nod, stroking the back of his neck with mythumb.
“I can probably see you on Thursday,” I tell him. “Where do you wanttomeet?”
“The park,” he answers, without hesitation. “Can you meet me there on Thursdayevening?”
“Okay.”
He gives me a final kiss, grabbing onto my hips as the taste of him and the feel of his touch sends a thrill shooting through me, despite how incomprehensible this entire situation hasbecome.
He steps back and stares into my eyes before giving a quick nod that serves as a goodbye. Watching him retreat towards the Knox building, I’m reminded of the first time he kissed me out here, leaving just aswordlessly.
* * *
I’m standingin my room on Thursday evening, once more contemplating my limited wardrobe options as I get ready to meet with Jordan, when I hear my mom let out a groan in thelivingroom.
“What is it?”Iyell.
“I just got called in,” she shouts back upatme.
I freeze in front of my mirror, holding a t-shirt ineitherhand.
“What?” I yell, louder this time, even though I’ve alreadyheardher.
“I have togoin!”
I drop the shirts and thunder down the hall. “But it’s your day off!” Ishout.
“It’s my on-call day,” shecorrectsme.
