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But Neil and I, whatever we were, it was night and day from all that—from all my preconceived notions. I liked him, and he liked me, and things beyond that were just…easy.
I could be myself around him—bad attitude, sarcastic remarks, and blunt honesty included—and it only seemed to amuse him. I could tell him things I never felt like telling anyone else, and he wanted to hear those things. Always listening intently and nodding along; always having something to say in response that made sense to me.
Somehow, between noticing that Neil had changed over the summer and deciding I was really,reallyinto it, and dinner last night, I had handed him a trust I didn’t offer many.
The most absurd part is that I couldn’t even pinpoint when it had happened. Was it when he handed me that first paper butterfly? Or when I looked at him at Inkcafé and truly saw him for the first time? Or was it when he kissed me like he knew exactly what to do with me and it flipped my whole perception of him completely upside down?
I had no clue.
But all of that, stacked on top of the realization that had dawned on me during dinner at Neil’s like a violent smack to the face, and the questions I’d asked myself at the end of it all, left me slightly terrified of how far I’d let him in.
Because surelythiswas the part when things went downhill, right?
I didn’t know.
I didn’t know anything.
Those thoughts stuck with me all day. All week. Nagging incessantly and poking at my vulnerabilities.
Did it stop me from hanging out with Neil?No.
But did it terrify me?Absofreakinglutely.
We were in Neil’s truck now, idling in my driveway, and for probably the first time in my entire eighteen-year existence, I didn’t have much to say. I hadn’t said much all day, in fact. All week.
Full disclosure, I was being a bit of an asshole. When I wasn’t avoiding Neil, I was full of snappy replies and one-sided arguments. I could see it myself doing it—I was watching myself from the outside, wanting to slap myself for it—but I couldn’t help it. I kept lashing out.
So when Neil asked, “Are you sure everything’s okay?” for about the hundredth time since dinner with his family, I wasn’t all that surprised.
I pasted on a smile that made my insides crawl. “Yeah. It’s all good. I’m fine,” I said, turning to open his door—a dirty, filthy liar, I was. I didn’t know what was going on with me, but I needed to get out of here before I did something stupid.
He curled his hand around my forearm. “Can you wait a sec?” he asked softly. I should’ve been grating on his last nerve, but apparently, he had the patience of a freaking saint. Because really, he only seemed concerned. Which made me feel like even more of an asshole.
I let out a breath. Turned in my seat. I didn’t even know why I’d let him drive me today, or all week for that matter. I needed space. A break. Time to reset my feelings and put myself in check.
But Neil pulled me closer until I was sitting in the middle seat next to him, and my heart let out an involuntary sigh. My knee was digging into his thigh, my other foot on the ground between his. He’d somehow tangled me up in him in the span of three seconds, but my mind had already been there for a while now.
He opened his mouth to say something, but I shut him up with a kiss. It was a lot easier than dealing with my convoluted feelings that had gotten out of control.
I released a relieved breath against his lips and let everything else drift away.
It wasn’t hard. Not really. Not when he kissed me like this. Like it was the only thing that mattered—like our differences and futures and fears weren’t a thing slowly wedging us apart.
I twisted my fingers in his shirt, closing that distance. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Zipping it up in pretty little luggage and throwing it into the proverbial closet for later.
His tongue stroked mine deep, and I moaned into his mouth, his fingers tightening around my thighs in response. He lifted my leg up and over his lap until I was straddling him.
I didn’t give myself the space to question it. I kissed him harder, hands skating up his abs as I ground myself into him, wringing a soft groan from his mouth that traveled into my chest. But instead of filling it up with the warmth I expected it to, it only left obvious all the empty spaces lingering in there, wanting more—more than this—on more levels than I was willing to acknowledge. It was frustrating as hell.
Tightening my grip, I dug my fingers into Neil’s shoulders. I pulled his bottom lip between my teeth. Yanked him closer to me by the neck of his shirt. And still, it wasn’t enough.
Screw it.I reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tossing it out of my way, my fingers tugging on the button of his pants. I pulled it free and zipped him halfway down before he stopped me, his hand on mine, holding it tightly.
He was panting when he broke our kiss. Literal heaves of his chest pushing against mine with all the pent-up urges he was holding himself back from. He was a lot better at depriving himself than I was.Clearly.(In my defense, I’d had, like, zero practice with that until Neil came along.) But I was over it.
Tension coiled itself around me, tightening my limbs until my muscles were as taut as my feelings, stretched way too thin.
I’d known Neil wouldn’t let things go far, but for once, I just wanted to make him feel as out of control as he made me feel. He was always so calm and collected where we were concerned, and it had never been more infuriating.