Page 105 of When We Were Us
“Yes,” I say and meet his eyes over my coffee cup. “It’s distracting.”
“I’ll try and be more careful not to distract you.” He opens the box between us, grins, and pops a donut hole into his mouth, chewing slowly. I watch his mouth, his tongue coming out to catch a crumb of icing on his top lip.
I groan. “You’re so annoying.”
He tips his head back and laughs. “You’ve always been easy to rattle, Wren.”
“Shut up.” I laugh lightly and take a donut hole, shoving it in my mouth to hide my grin.
He sobers then. “You went all the way into town this morning?” he asks, lifting his cup. “They don’t open ‘til seven.”
I nod. “Finn told me that Nat’s donut holes are your favorite.” I shrug, not wanting to make a big deal about it. But we both know it is.
I not only arranged to meet Finn there ahead of time but also got up at five-thirty in the morning to get him something he likes.
He nods. “They’re the best.”
I pick another one out of the box and look at the sweet confection pinched between my fingers, mostly to distract me from the gaze he’s pinning me with.
“Yeah, she’s a magician.” I pop it into my mouth and chew, standing up.“So, what’s next? What can I do?”
Hank reaches out and snags my wrist, then shifts, pulling me toward him so I’m standing between his knees. I gaze down at his upturned face. The clock ticking sounds like a drumbeat in my ears.
“What do you want to do?” I can see in his eyes that he’s not asking what I want help with around here. It’s a look of anticipation and cautious hope, and it’s a fight just to pull air into my lungs as I stare down at him.
Maybe if I just ignore the way he’s looking at me, I can distract him from the conversation I know is coming. It’s not that I don’t want to have it, it’s just that I’m not prepared. Still, I’ve already admitted to Ginger and Finn that I’m thinking about staying. So, why is it so hard to say it to the one man it matters most to?
Casting a glance around like I’ll find the answer to his question on the walls of my grandparents’ kitchen, I lamely land on: “I can start filling holes in the living room. All those plates left a ton of holes in the?—”
He tugs lightly on my hand, and my eyes find his when he speaks. “You know that’s not what I mean, Wrenley.” His voice is low.
And I do. There have been so many little things over the last few weeks that have blurred the lines between friends and…whatever this is between us. A relationship? Friends with benefits sounds horrible to me.
I swallow hard. Silence pulses around us and I swear I can hear his breathing too. But where mine feels shallow and ragged, his looks and sounds even, with his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Just like him.
“Will you go to the festival with me?”
I almost laugh with relief because that is the last thing I expected him to say. And the proposition sounds like that of a sixteen-year-old asking a girl out on a first date.
The thought makes my stomach do a happy little flip, and I find myself grinning. “Are you asking me on an actual, honest-to-goodness date, Hank?”
He nods and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes unblinking. Gone is grumpy Hank. Gone is the cocky, self-assured, and teasing man from moments before. In his place is this vulnerable, beautiful man, and he’s never looked more like the one I fell in love with seventeen years ago.
“I’d love to go with you.” Stepping closer to him, I reach out with both hands and rest them on the tops of his shoulders. The fingers of my right hand play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It isn’t a conscious thought that has me leaning in and bringing my forehead to rest on his. I just want to be near him.
His eyes flutter closed, and a quiet grunt leaves him. “What are we doing, baby?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. That one word, ‘baby,’ has me ready to throw myself off the cliff, hoping the fall doesn’t kill me. “Spending time together?”
His swallow is audible, and he nods slightly, the movement moving my head with his.
“Does spending time together include kissing you?”
“Yes,” I breathe out.
A ragged breath leaves him, and he wraps both his arms around my waist, pulling me against him. He nips at my bottom lip and then sucks it into his mouth. I run my tongue along his upper lip, tasting sweet icing and coffee.
I’ve never been good at shutting off my brain, but our kiss sufficiently silences any thoughts except how good this feels—how right. The surrender to him pulls me closer, deeper, until all I feel is him, with his hands on my back and mine in his hair.
