Page 11 of Caden & Theo
“Definitely more,” he says, voice just a little hoarse.
That fries my brain for a hot second. I should probably be embarrassed. Ishouldfeel awkward. But this isCaden. He’s the person I’ve told everything to. The person I’ve loved, secretly and not-so-secretly, for years. If I can’t talk about this stuff with him, who the hell else could I?
Still, I clear my throat. “Okay, so… not, like,nowor anything. We don’t have to?—”
He nods quickly. “No, yeah, same. I mean, not that I don’t want to. Obviously. I do. A lot.”
“Yeah,” I echo, trying to sound cool and chill and not like I’ve fantasized about seeing him naked since I was fifteen. “Definitely. But also… I’m good with just this right now.”
He smiles. “Me too.”
But then he adds, under his breath, “Although, if youdidwant to see my dick….”
“Caden!”
He dissolves into laughter, arms wrapping around me as I half push, half hug him in retaliation. And yeah, okay,doI want to see it? Hell yes. But we’ve got time.
And right now, the way his mouth finds mine again—gentle and sure that it’shis—is more than enough.
Caden’s mouth is still warm against mine, his hand splayed across my waist like he’s memorizing the shape of me. Myfingers are curled in the fabric of his hoodie, and every few seconds, we pull apart to breathe before diving back in like we’re making up for lost time—for every day we didn’t do this sooner.
We’ve kissed a dozen times now, but somehow each one feels like a surprise. A really, really good surprise. Like unwrapping your favorite candy only to find another piece hiding underneath.
Caden shifts, lips brushing the edge of my jaw. “You’re really kissable,” he murmurs.
“Yeah?” I ask, grinning. “I’ve been practicing.”
He lifts his head and squints at me. “With who?”
I laugh. “My hand.”
He snorts, burying his face in my shoulder to muffle the sound.
We’re so wrapped up in our bubble of warm skin and soft laughter that I don’t hear the front door until it slams shut. The sound jolts straight through me.
Then comes the unmistakable voice of my dad. “Theo? You home?”
Caden freezes. We both do. Like deer caught mid-make out.
I launch off the bed like I’ve been electrocuted, trying to smooth my tee and figure out how to make my flushed face looklesslike it’s been suction-cupped to my best friend’s for the last hour. Caden sits up, too, fixing his hoodie, raking a hand through his hair like that’s going to help.
I mouth, “Oh my God,” at him, and he mouths back, “Play it cool.”
Cool. Right. Totally cool.
Meanwhile, I feel like I’ve got a giant neon sign blinking above my head:MADE OUT WITH BEST FRIEND. WOULD DO IT AGAIN.
My dad’s voice travels up the stairs again. “Theo, can you come down for a second?”
Caden pats my back. “You got this,” he whispers like we’re heading onto a battlefield.
I glare at him. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little,” he admits, grinning way too smugly for someone who still has my lip balm on his mouth. Okay, technically it’s not mine, but I stole it from my sister because it makes my lips feel really soft.
I stumble out of my room, trying to pull myself together. By the time I get to the bottom of the stairs, I’m pretty sure I still look like a mess, but it’s the “best friend sleepover after prom”kind of mess, right? Not the “my tongue’s been in my bestie’s mouth”kind.
My dad’s in the kitchen sorting through the mail he’s ignored since Friday. “Hey, son,” he says, looking up. “Can you take the recycling out? Your mom filled the bin again.”
