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Would it be a horribly terrible thing to kiss her?

Yeah. It had to be.

As delightful and captivating as her wide blue eyes were when surprised, she was in no state to be kissed. Ten minutes before, she’d been bawling into his shirt. The wet spot where her face had been pressed into him stuck to his shoulder right above his heart.

Which, by the way, was threatening to escape him or cease working altogether.

He’d confessed. Kind of.

He’d considered telling her that his “small crush” hadn’t been small at all and had spanned from her freshman year and his junior year until now. Those kinds of crushes, even if you hadn’t seen the person for two years, sparked back quickly and with frightening force when given the chance.

No one had taught him that. He’d figured it out all on his own.

The only thing holding him back from spilling the beans was his future self, who would give him a proper beating when he woke up sober in the morning.

She shivered.

Barrett frowned. “Are you cold?”

She nodded, and they broke apart. His arm fell from her as she stepped away. He wasn’t sure which of them did it first.

“Do you think they’re okay?” she asked, and it took Barrett a few seconds to remember who “they” were. Then he remembered what had driven them there in the first place.

See, there she went, distracting him again.

He looked around as if his friends would pop out again and proclaim themselves free men. “Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time. They know what they’re doing.”

She smiled up at him. “I believe you.”

Barrett couldn’t get enough. Her head, tilted back to look up at him, seemed a small but precious gift. How many people could claim this second in time?

Only him.

He was the lucky bastard who got Janelle Duncan right there in that single moment.

Now that he thought about it, he was racking up a hell of a lot of lucky moments these days.