“Why are you asking me this?”
There’s no hint of laughter, no smile hiding between the pinks of her lips. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, I have nowhere to hide… and no one that I have to hide from.
“I just want to know what it would be like.”
My voice catches and the corners of my eyes begin to sting. This park is a cruel joke. A reminder of all the things I haven’t done, of all the moments I don’t get to have with Hannah.
I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss her here, in a place filled with secrets and stolen moments. At this point, that’s all we have anyway.
“I just want to know what it would be like,” I repeat, my voice softer this time.
A slight breeze blows some loose hair across her face, and a few strands catch on her lips. Her lips that used to be mine. Her lips that are pink and full and just out of reach.
I don’t know how to stop wanting you.
Hannah’s fingers graze my cheek, and I close my eyes at her touch. I lean into her, refusing to open my eyes because I know I’ll see the confusion and restraint that has become our give and take. I just needthisfor a few more moments.
“Clarity,” she whispers, so close now that her lips brush against mine, her breath hot against my mouth.
I shudder when her other hand rests in the curve between my neck and shoulder, her fingers splaying against my skin. Ikeep my eyes closed, pretend this is a dream. Because I can be with her in my dreams.
I can still kiss her in my dreams.
I lean forward and our mouths seal together in a perfect, familiar kiss.
Her lips are warm and soft, better than I remember them. Gently, she tugs on my sweater, and I press my whole body against her, my curves and contours fitting into hers. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer still. I graze her bottom lip with my teeth, testing its fullness, and she sweeps her tongue along mine, pulling a small gasp from me. With my head tilted back to meet her more fully, my nose presses into her cheek and her hair brushes against the edges of my face.
The strawberry flavor on her lips from her ChapStick, the smell of her mango shampoo—that blessed mango shampoo—and the gentle pressure of her fingers weaving into my hair—all of it becomes my entire world. For this moment, my life consists of Hannah and me, entwined, pressed so close together, we could be one.
I savor every second, parting for breaths and closing the space between us for more of what we’ve been missing. I can’t pick any one place to feel: the curves of her muscular arms under my caress; her warm cheeks as I hold her face; her silky hair slipping in between my fingers; her sloping spine, traced with my slow touch. I document it all because any second we’re going to break apart and open our eyes and be back in real life.
Where we both agreed not to do this.
Reluctantly, I break the kiss and rest my forehead against hers. I open my eyes first, admire the small detail of her light lashes. I watch the way she collects herself, taking deep breaths and licking her swollen lips.
“Hannah—”
“Shh,” she hushes, keeping her eyes closed, not pulling away. She starts tracing gentle circles on my back. “I know… Just a little longer.”
Highland Park is perfect for the festival.
Chapter Fourteen
I finish braiding a red ribbon into my hair and double-check the red-and-gray smoky eye I spent forty minutes mastering. Despite it being my senior year, and thisnotbeing my first game, I only found one Ridgeway Ravens sweatshirt in my closet. The sweatshirt and my hair and makeup will have to be enough school spirit for my last first Friday night football game.
Mom drops me off a block away from school because parking is a mess. The crowd is honestly impressive; a healthy mix of students, parents, and fans of our rivals: the Spartans. Since Kristen and Vincent are already inside, I wait at the ticket stand for Hannah. A few minutes after she texts that she finally found parking, I spot her on the walking path.
“Oh. My.God,” I gush, slightly incredulous at the sight of Hannah completely decked out in our school colors.
From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she oozes school spirit. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail with red-and-black clip-in extensions mixed in. Hannah doesn’t wear makeup, but her cheeks are smudged with lines of red, white, andblack paint. She has on a black quarter zip with the school crest in the center, which I kind of want for myself. Her sweatpants are bright red, enough to hurt my eyes, and she has on black Vans with red laces. Correction,sparklyred laces.
“This—you look—”
“Amazing? I know,” she says with a smirk. She does a hair flip with her ponytail.
“Yes, I’ve never seen anyone with more… Raven pride than you,” I say, taking her in. Her eyes lock on mine and her head tilts slightly toward me, the way it did at Highland Park. But she remembers herself, and I catch the flicker of recognition in her eyes.
“Are you okay? Is this going to be okay?” I ask. We still haven’t talked about the kiss, or texted about the kiss, or DMed about the kiss. And I can’t tell if she’s pretending it didn’t happen because she thinks that’s what I want (which it isn’t), and I can’t ask her without bringing it up and drawing attention to the fact that I said we could only be friends, just to end up kissing her.