Page 40 of Kellan & Emmett
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. His palm wasn’t covering mine, just close enough that the edge of his thumb rested against my knuckle, and God, the memory of every time we’d touched when we were kids that had meant so much came rushing back. Side hugs, knees brushing under desks… and the one night everything blurred into a kiss I’d told myself didn’t count.
I told myself to move, to break the contact before I did something reckless, like kiss him.
But I didn’t. Couldn’t.
And that was the moment I knew—I was already in trouble.
Daily To-Do
Fixsqueaky hinge upstairs
Garden: water planters, trim walkway
Pay utility bill before late fee hits
Make sure Kellan actually eats something, not just gulps coffee
Resist wanting to kiss Kellan
Chapter 2[5]1
Emmett
He smirked like he had a comeback ready, but then it slipped, honesty edging in. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I haven’t.”
“Want to go bowling?” I asked, keeping it casual, like it had just popped into my head. Truth was, I’d been sitting on the idea all week. “Lanes should be open. Couple of hours won’t kill us.”
His brow arched, mouth tugging into a sly half-grin. “Bowling? So when you said fun, what you really meant was fun for you. Yoo beat my asnt. But it’s been a while. Maybe you’ll return the favor this time.”u always used ts.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Fair poi
“Don’t count on it,” he said, but his grin widened.
“Come on,” I nudged. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
He blew out a breath, like he wanted to act reluctant, but there was already a spark in his eyes. “Alright. Why not.”
Half an hour later we pulled into the cracked lot behind Ten Pin Alley. The neon sign buzzed, half the letters burned out, but the crash of pins carried all the way outside. Inside, the air hung heavy with popcorn and shoe spray, country music leaking from tired speakers.
The gum-popping teenager behind the counter barely looked up from her phone as I gave our sizes. She slid two pairs of rentals across the laminate and pointed us toward lane six. The shoes were stiff, laces frayed, soles already slick from a hundred other players.
“Didn’t miss these, huh?” I said, rocking back on my heels.
Kellan smirked as he tugged his on. “They ought to come with a waiver.”
That pulled a laugh out of me. Damn him. Banter always had a way of sneaking under my guard.
Kellan rolled his shoulders, standing, testing the weight of a midnight-blue ball off the rack. Forearm flex, wrist easy. He looked good—focused in that old way, but softer at the edges now, like the need to prove something had finally bled off. He caught me looking and tipped his chin, half question, half dare.
