Page 40 of Finding Grey

“Huh.” Dante pondered my words for a while. “I never thought about it that way.”

“That’s why you need friends like me,” I pointed out. “For the educational value.”

“All right then, how about the first time you kissed a boy?”

My heart pounded so hard I thought my shirt might start to move with the force of it. “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “How do you know it wasn’t the other night, when I fed you ice cream with my tongue?”

I was helpless to stop the closing of my eyes, or the way my lips parted on a sigh. His quiet chuckle brought me back to my senses. Hissing in a breath, I met his gaze. “Because you were way too confident about it.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d come at me like a pro.

“I’m always confident,” he said, leering at me.

He was stalling. So was I.

“Tell me,” I demanded quietly.

His tongue swiped over his lower lip as he watched me, deliberating. “I’ve never told anybody about this,” he said at last, “but I did kiss a boy once.”

Shock made my jaw drop. “What do you mean once?”

“I mean, I’ve only ever kissed one guy. Other than you,” he added with a wink. “I was seventeen this time. It happened backstage at a concert.” His lips curved into a smile. “I was high off the performance, and horny as all hell. He had on these tight, black jeans and an old Nirvana t-shirt. He was all arms and legs, but his face was a fucking masterpiece.” He fell silent as he sank into the memory—his memory of me. “I wish I could remember what he looked like, but it’s been so long.” His gaze met mine then. “He’s the person you reminded me of, when we met. His eyes were grey, like yours.”

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I had to say something.

“I’d never really taken much notice of guys before that night. But him?” His breath came faster as he spoke. “One look and I wanted him.”

“What did you do?” I asked, mesmerised by the exhilaration on his face as he told the story.

“I walked up to him and asked what the hell he was doing there.” He laughed then. “You should have seen the expression on his face. I thought he was going to piss himself.”

A laugh fell out of me. It was a close call. I’d been crouched on the floor at the time. Dante had scared the shit out of me when he stood over me like that. “Maybe he wasn’t used to being questioned,” I told him. “Maybe he’d spent a lot of his childhood travelling around with his dad. Hanging out at concerts, meeting the musicians his dad played with.”

Dante’s eyes snapped to mine, and a long silence fell between us. “Maybe,” he murmured.

Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I lifted my chin. “Tell me what happened next?”

“I lured him back to my dressing room, so we’d be alone,” he said, his gaze riveted to my face. “He took my photo.”

“Forty-three photos,” I corrected. “His hands shook so badly at first, he worried he’d drop the camera. Afterward, you asked him—”

“Have you ever kissed a boy?” The question was a sigh of realisation. “He said he hadn’t.”

My own lips curved and this time, I was the one sinking into the memory. “He was only fifteen. He’d never kissed anyone.”

Unfolding his legs, Dante shifted forward until he perched on the edge of the lounge, right in front of me. “And when I asked if you wanted to try it?” His eyes pierced mine, demanding honesty. “What did you say?”

The moment had arrived, and I had no idea what would happen next. Licking my lips, I said the words that would remove all doubt as to my identity. “Only if the boy is you.”

Dante went still, like statue still. His eyes were wide, and his lips parted in shock. “Grey?”

A nod was the only reply I could manage.

“Youaremy Grey,” he repeated, as if unable to believe it.

“Yes.”

He shot up off the lounge and I did the same. We stood there in front of each other, almost touching—but not.