Page 27 of Every Thought Taken

“Oh, come on.” Her feet thump on the floor in an attempt to keep up with me. “Please.”

I peek over my shoulder and chuckle. “What is it about the word no you don’t understand?”

“For me, Ander,” she whines. “Please.”

Rounding the sofa, I zigzag toward the kitchen and loop around the island. “Why?”

She huffs and I laugh. “Memories.”

“Can we just remember it happened? Without photographic evidence.”

She halts and plants her hands on her hips. “I won’t show it to anyone.” She draws anXover her heart. “Promise.”

The vow and gesture form a fissure in my resolve. Create an inkling of acquiescence. The longer we stand here, holding each other’s stares, the more I consider caving.

Because this is Helena.My North.And dammit, I’d do anything to see her smile.

I tip my head. “Ugh,” I cry out to the ceiling before leveling my gaze. “Fine,” I grumble.

“Yay!” She claps animatedly.

Closing the distance between us, I point a finger at her. “No one, and I meanno one, sees this.”

She pins her pinkie down with her thumb and holds up three fingers. “Scout's honor.”

“Uh, that only works if you’re an actual Scout.”

She waves off my comment. “Whatever.” Holding out an arm, she beckons me closer with the wiggle of her fingers. “Get over here.”

I step into her side embrace and teeter from one foot to the other.

What do I do now? Do I put an arm around her? Hug her to my side?

God, I want her in my arms. More than just a casual embrace. I want to feel how perfectly she fits with her front to mine. Her head on my shoulder or against my chest. Hands fisted in my shirt. Comfortable. At ease. At home. With me.

My pulse shoots into overdrive. Pounds a vicious rhythm in my chest at the idea of cradling her in my arms. Of feelingwantedby my favorite person.

That’s probably too much to ask right now. Too close for us—physically and emotionally.

But how close is too close?

Where do I put my arm? Maybe around her shoulders. That’s a safe zone. At least, I think it is. What if I put an arm around her waist? Warmth spreads through my chest at the level of intimacy such a simple hold would possess. If I were to curl my fingers and grip her hip, would it freak her out?

I close my eyes and count to five. Shake off the unrealistic thoughts brewing in my head.

When I open my eyes, I spot Helena watching me from the corner of hers. She hooks an arm around my waist and crushes me to her side. “We’re taking two.”

I groan.

“Shush, you.” She pinches my side and I jump. “As I was saying,” she continues with a roll of her eyes. “We’re taking two. One with smiles and the other with goofy faces.”

My arm between us circles her waist and I mentally sigh.Perfect.“Fine,” I say with more curtness than I mean. Pretenses and all. “But if you want these pictures, you better take them already.”

She lifts the Polaroid and holds it as far away as possible. “Smiles first.” Her finger finds the shutter button. “One, two, three.”

The flash blinds me temporarily as the photo ejects from the top. I blink a few times as she waves the picture back and forth. Slowly, the image of our masked faces comes into view. And if I am honest with myself, I really like the picture. More than I thought I would.

“Alright, time for the funny shot.”

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