Three blocks from Haven House, he stops. Turns to me.
"I said next time you want to stop kissing me, don't." He steps closer. "This is me reminding you."
He kisses me. Not the quick brave press of the overlook. Not the desperate heat of the wall. Something in between, sure and slow and intentional, his hands on my chest, rising to my shoulders, curling around the back of my neck. He takes his time. He sets the pace. And I let him, because this is what I was afraid of losing. Not the heat, but the choice. His choice. Made clearly, without desperation, without a wall behind him or alcohol in his system or the frantic energy of a birthday rescue.
Just Devin. Choosing me. On a quiet street with his hand on my neck and his mouth on mine and nothing between us but the cold air and the certainty that this is exactly where we both want to be.
When he pulls back, he's smiling. The real one. The full brightness.
"Goodnight, Silas."
"Goodnight, Dev."
"See you at the library?"
"Six-forty-five. With your coffee."
"Vending machine motor oil?"
"Only the finest."
He laughs. Walks to Haven House. Punches in the code. Turns at the door and waves, a small thing, just his hand raised, but it feels like a promise.
My phone buzzes as I'm getting on my bike.
I'm glad I went to dinner with you.
Me too. Goodnight, Devin. :)
The smiley face. I've never used a smiley face in a text in my life. But it's our thing now, apparently, and my lion purrs the whole ride home.
Chapter 11
Devin
Saturday morning. I wake up smiling, which is so unfamiliar it takes me a second to figure out why my face is doing that.
Right. Last night. Lucia's. Pasta and tiramisu and candles and Silas's hand across the table and the kiss on the quiet street and the walk to Haven House where he didn't try to come in and didn't make it weird and just said goodnight like a person who understood that goodnight could be enough.
Tyler's already awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed, eating a granola bar and watching me with the focus of a nature documentary narrator observing something rare.
"You're smiling," he says.
"No I'm not."
"You're smiling in your sleep. I've been watching for ten minutes. It's unsettling."
"That's creepy, Tyler."
"What's creepy is you going from an emotional flatline to Disney princess in one week." He throws the granola bar wrapper at me. "Spill. What happened last night? I came home at eleven and you were asleep with your phone on your face. Like, literally on your face. The screen was on a text from someone named Silas with a smiley face."
I pull the blanket over my head.
"Oh no you don't." Tyler yanks it back. "You went on a DATE. An actual date. With the book guy. The hot quiet shifter book guy. And you came home and fell asleep smiling at yourphone like a romcom heroine and you are going to TELL ME EVERYTHING."
"We had dinner."
"And?"