Page 65 of The Dandelion Princess

I’m a pain tablet? Take two kisses, put your feet up, call if symptoms persist.

The truth is that I’m tempted. I’m curious about the way he thinks we can confine ourselves to such narrow parameters of engagement and how he thinks we won’t be hurt. I’m not foolish enough to think I can escape so cleanly, and the whole thing terrifies me.

“Isn’t there something in the Geneva Bro Codes about kissing your best friend’s little sister?” I ask, pushing back.

“We’re not going to tell Noah. Or your sisters—or mine.” Again, he presses a kiss to my lips. I don’t know whether the soft, clinging touch should land in the plusses or minuses tally.

“What you’re describing is ridiculous,” I say.

He nods gently, repeatedly. “We have to do it anyway.”

I take a steadying breath. Terrible ideas are my brand. Not Marc’s. “Why?”

He kisses me again, lingering so long that he takes a ragged breath when he lifts his head. He looks like he’s been running from the cops.

“Because it won’t be Minty’s next time.” He brushes a curl from my face with a serious smile. “Think about how productive we’d be if we could regularize this, seeing each other—”

“Maximizing productivity requires kissing?” I scoff.

He’s honest enough to make it clear that this will be something temporary, without the promise of a rosy future for the two of us.My throat tightens.Have some dignity, Ella. Some self-respect.I should say no—escape from the temptation of his proximity, and go back to driving him off with talk of cufflinks.

A thought intrudes.And how did that work out?

I’ve been trying to fall out of love with Marc van Heyden for more than a year and getting exactly nowhere. My strategy has been a failure.

He smells so good, and I wonder if going along with his reckless plan would be like cannonballing into a lake, going all the way to the rocky bottom, and pushing up to the surface as a new creature. No more flailing. No more wondering. Maybe it makes sense?

He leans forward, but this time I meet him, trying it his way. After a few seconds, he lifts his head and takes a large swallow of air. “Yes. It requires kissing,” he gasps.

I trace the hollow under his ear, ignoring the medieval campaign music coming from the television. I’m tired of fighting this fight alone. I’m tired of being the only one to suffer. If I do this, I will become a turncoat to myself, willfully destroying the fragile peace I’ve won, but there will be compensations. “We’ll go back to being friends?” I say.

“We won’t ever stop being friends.”

We’ll end where we began. I can’t say I haven’t been warned. I hold my breath and peer into the future as far as I can. I can imagine ruin and heartbreak, but they somewhere are beyond the horizon. I see that I’m going to say yes.

I wedge myself onto my elbows, narrowing the gap between us, noting the way his gaze keeps returning to my mouth.Vede, how distracted has he been?

“Just kisses,” I insist, feeling my power. “No scope creep.” There are some things our friendship can’t survive. I hold up my pinky between us, and he wraps it with his own.

“No scope creep,” he repeats. “So it’s a deal?”

Ignoring the stab of pain, I tip up my chin and whisper my answer against his lips.

“Deal.”

21

Hopped Up

MARC

“It’ll be fine,” I tell Ella, shrugging my suit jacket over my shoulders. I keep wanting to touch her—to say goodnight the right way—but we haven’t worked out whether or not our deal includes affection, touches softer than passion but somehow more intimate.

So, I keep my hands busy smoothing my collar and straightening my tie, moving closer to the door as I attempt to reclaim some measure of control. “As long as we don’t make it more than it is, both of us will benefit.”

She leans over the arm of the sofa, resting her head on crossed hands, and chews on her lower lip. “Remind me what those benefits are?”

We went over this, but then we kissed each other like zoo animals released into a new enclosure—hopped up on curiosity, wild with it, running in circles. No wonder she forgot.