Page 74 of Always Love You More

“Well,” I tell her, “I’ve never kissed anyone before you, either.”

“Really?” she blurts out.

I smirk. “See? You’re surprised, too.”

“It’s just that you’re”—she waves a hand—“you’re …”

“I’m what?”

“You.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on,” she huffs. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how girls talk about you.”

“So?”

“So …” She arches back. “You could probably have any girl you want at school.”

“And you could probably have any guy,” I counter. “I’m sure there’s not one guy at school who wouldn’t want to kiss you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to kiss them.”

“And just because girls want me, doesn’t mean I want them back. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really like other people.”

“But you like me?”

I laugh. “I think that’s pretty fucking clear.”

“Then do it again?”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me,” she says. “Stop teasing and kiss me again.”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I bring my lips to hers, not nearly as gentle as I was the first time. She lifts her hands to my hair and pulls as I press her up against the wall.

Lost.

I’m completely fucking lost in this girl.

The room around me disappears, but I'm quickly jolted back to reality by three loud knocks on the door. “Johnny’s here,” my father shouts. “Get out here.”

“He’s early.” Sam’s wide eyes find mine. “Why’s he early?”

“I don’t know, but I really fucking wish he wasn’t.”

“Me, too,” she says. “I wish I could stay and watch that movie with you”—she looks over at the door—“but I should really get out there.”

Reluctantly, I nod.

She steps back, but I grab her wrist.

“Hold on.”

“My brother …” she starts.

“I have something for you.” I go to my closet and reach for the brown paper bag I put there a few days ago. “Here,” I say, holding it out to her.