Page 40 of Like I Never Said

“Yeah, nice talking to you, too,” Luke calls after me.

Auden has one piece of pizza in hand and another in her mouth when I take a seat beside her on the dock.

“You found food, I see.”

She chews and swallows. There’s some red sauce on her cheek, but I don’t mention it—yet. “It’s like an Italian restaurant set up shop inside.”

“Yeah. Josh tends to go overboard.”

“No kidding.”

“No one said anything to you, did they?”

“Nope. I was given awideberth.” Auden sounds upset about it. Annoyed at the very least.

“I’m sorry, Denny. I should’ve—”

She waves my words away with a slice of cheese. “Don’t apologize. I knew what I was getting into. Well,almostknew.”

I raise a brow. “I should have requested a preview of your kissing skills.”

I’m up to ninety-nine percent certain she’s messing with me, so I say, “You can request one right now.”

A smirk unfurls on her face. “Oh really? It’s an open offer?”

“Wide open.”

“Why?” she whispers.

I don’t have a good answer, so I make a joke. “I have a thing for girls with pizza sauce on their face.

“What?” She swipes both cheeks but misses the red spot.

I chuckle, then lean forward slowly. I can see her pulse hammering just below her jawline like a rhythmic miniature drum. At a pace akin to molasses dripping out of a jar, I swipe my thumb across the soft, smooth skin of her cheek. “Got it,” I murmur.

Her breath catches.

Auden kisses me first this time. She closes the two inches that separated our lips and presses them together. My hand is still on the side of her face and I use it to tilt her to the side and deepen the kiss. She doesn’t cede control, just like I knew she wouldn’t. Our tongues come into play, taunting and teasing and tangling.

I’m worried this is what it’s like—kissing someone you have feelings for. It’s not just the physical sensations. I’m hyperaware of everything. The way she smells like rosemary and mint; I know that’s the scent because I once called her when she was shampoo shopping and she got so distracted she left the store without it. The way she tastes like oregano and mozzarella from the pizza she’s been inhaling. And because it’s Auden, I’m also wondering what she’ll say when I pull back. She doesn’t disappoint.

“You’re getting better.”

I laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

“Uh-huh.” She takes a bite of her last slice of pizza. Despite her calm words, she’s fiddling with a loose string on her shorts as she eats, making me think—hope—she might be more affected than she’s acting.

We’re both silent as she finishes eating. Then, suddenly, she says, “Tell me something no one knows about you, something you’ve never told me.”

I stare out at the water, then shift my attention to her. There’s alcohol swimming in my veins. The slow simmer of heat, too. But I’m not drunk. The heady feeling is Auden Harmon. Nothing else makes me feel like this. Scared and powerful. Happy and sad. Overwhelmed and at peace.

“I don’t want to.”

“That’s a shitty answer.”

“You already know more than anyone else, Denny.”

“So?”

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