Page 76 of Hate You, Maybe
“That’s how I felt for a minute,” I say. “Everything was so dark out here, so I got worried. But you’re safe.”
“I am.” She looks down at the smashed mug sitting in apuddle of marshmallows and wrinkles her nose. “Your cocoa, however, is not.”
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, rubbing them hard. This night, man. I feel like it’s already lasted a whole week.
“I’ll clean up,” she offers, picking up the two largest pieces of the mug and starting for the cabin. “I’m the one who got you all freaked out.” I want to follow her, but my feet feel rooted in place, planted under this tree. “You’d think I would’ve remembered to leave you a note on a clipboard,” she says from the porch. “I only have a million of them.”
Her soft laughter loosens something in me, like tectonic plates shifting under the earth, signaling a quake. Suddenly I’m unfrozen, rushing toward her, leaping up the steps. I collect the broken mug pieces from her and set them on one of the chairs. “This was my mess,” I say. “I’ll take care of it.”
She huffs out an amused breath. “If you insist.”
“But first”—our gazes meet and need pulses through me—“I think we should kiss.”
“Ha!” A nervous titter squeaks out of her, and she glances over at Tori’s cabin. “We got that over with already, remember? Bob and Hildy and Tori definitely believed you. Us, I mean. We have nothing to prove now.”
“I’m talking about a real kiss,” I say. I’m going for broke. Forget being gentle with the baby bird. “Unless you don’t want to.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So you’re saying youdowant to kiss me.”
She blinks. Gulps. “I’m saying … we’ve barely got our professional relationship in order. And we’re still adversaries when it comes to that grant money. Tomorrow, when we head back to school, both our jobs will be turned upside down, at least until the SACSS visit.” She lets out a sigh. “Fiddling with that whole house of cards would be pretty dumb.”
“Yeah.” I shift my weight. “No one’s ever accused me of being smart.”
This draws a laugh from her. “That’s pretty much theonlything I ever gave you credit for.”
My guts cinch up, but Sayla’s got a point. And she may be reluctant to kiss me. Either way, I’d never push. So for now, I’ll walk this back to make her comfortable. The subject can wait a few weeks. Whether or not I want to.
“Friends, then?” I ask, even as my insides churn with the desire for more.
Her lips curve up. “Friends.”
So in the end, we’ll leave Camp Reboot with a functioning work relationship. Complicated, yes. And not about to get any easier. But at least my request for a kiss didn’t destroy what we’ve managed to build here.
“For the record, though,” she says, “that forehead kiss got me thinking kissing you for real would be … epic.”
We lock eyes for a moment, the tension crackling between us. Then she turns toward the door, but I catch her wrist and spin her around, pulling her to me.
“Sayla.” I search her face, surveying every feature, committing each tiny detail to memory. The spray of freckles across her cheeks. The way her nose turns up at the tip. The curved ridge of lashes.
Her eyes are shadows in the moonlight. Wide and full of desire.
Then they drop to my lips.
“Dex.” She breathes my name. “This is a bad idea.”
“Is that a no?”
“It’s not a no.”
“Good,” I say. “Screw it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sayla
I reach behind me, fumbling to open the screen, as Dex and I stutter-step back into the cabin. Once we’re inside, he pulls the door shut and slowly tilts his head. His hooded eyes meet mine, and our pupils magnetize. Another unspoken request for permission. I nod again, so he knows for sure I want him to kiss me.
