I love knowing I'm the thing he looks at that way—that I'm the one he wants badly enough not to try to hide the greedy need or the heat in his eyes.
The young guy in a hoodie standing beside him recognizes him and does a double take, but Briggs doesn't even notice. His lips curve into a grin as he lifts a hand, crooking a finger at me.
I'm not even embarrassed by how quickly I rush toward him. Maybe I should be. Maybe I should try to play it cool and act like I haven't been dying to see him again…but I think he'd know that's bullshit. I think he knew I was falling for him before I figured it out myself.
I spent all day after he left, trying to tell myself that this isn't what this is, that it can't be that, that I'm just confusing lust for love. And every damn time, I arrived back at one simple fact: lust doesn't make you see yourself more clearly than you have in years. Love does that. Lust doesn't make you want to be a better version of yourself than you have been in years. Love does that. And lust doesn't heal the pieces of you that you thought would always be a little raw and humiliated. Love does that.
I'm falling for him. Somehow, inexplicably, he burrowed his way into my heart. He's only burrowed deeper in the days since I had that realization. Every time we talk, he gives me a new reason to fall, like when he told me that he's going to be the only first I remember because I deserve perfection. Or when he told me that his biggest regret is not being big or old enough to properly protect his sister back when she needed it most.
I guess I thought I was the only one with scars and trauma. Turns out, his run deep, too. Deeper than I expected. And somehow, despite everything he and his siblings have been through, he still believes in love. He still believes in it enough to fight for it.
Maybe that's why I'm here now, a little bit terrified, a little bit excited…but ready to fight, too.
"You looking for this, beautiful?" he asks, motioning toward my bag when I'm standing in front of him. "Because I'll give it to you, but it's going to cost you."
"What's your price?"
He crooks a finger again, smirking at me like the devil.
I step into him, so close, he's everywhere again, eclipsing everything and everyone around us. His head tilts toward mine, his breath warm against my lips.
"Kiss me," he breathes.
I lift on my toes, planting a light peck on his lips.
He growls before I can drop back down to my feet, hauling me up in his strong arms to kiss me properly. The world spins around me, falling out of focus. I latch onto him, clinging to his shoulders as he kisses me so thoroughly that there isn't an ounce of breath left in my lungs. There's just him, everywhere.
"That's how you say hello to your man, sweetness," he rasps against my lips, his voice low and breathless, before he burrows his face into my throat. "Christ, I missed you."
My heart turns another flip. "I missed you, too."
"Yeah?" He pulls back, his eyes on my face. "You missed me?"
"Like crazy, Briggs," I say solemnly.
He kisses me again, not caring that we're in the middle of the airport, blocking access to baggage claim. Not caring that there are dozens of witnesses. He just kisses me like he has all night.
When he releases me this time, people are staring.
"Shit," he mutters when he notices, blindly reaching for the handle of my suitcase. Within seconds, he's got my carry-on slung over his shoulder, too. "You ready to get the fuck out of here?"
"Um, yes," I say, glancing around, "definitely."
I'd really like to not be on the news already. I know it'll happen eventually, not because I'm cool enough to be gossip, but because he is. And Kingston is my brother. Of course people are going to have something to say about the fact that Briggs and I are…what are we even doing? Talking? Dating? Is there a wordfor when you haven't labeled it but you're falling in love with someone? I have no idea, but I think we're whatever that word is.
Briggs wraps an arm around my waist, guiding me out of baggage claim, then through the maze of the airport, and out. The sun is a bright ball directly overhead, but it doesn't really warm the air. A frigid breeze blows right through me.
"Cold?" Briggs asks, noticing when I shiver.
"Only always."
"And yet, you live in Minneapolis."
"It's not as cold there."
"You little liar," he says with a chuckle. "It's way colder there than it is here."
"Not really. You guys have the wind trying to murder you all winter. We don't. The wind makes it colder. Science," I retort.