Page 155 of The Score

I lock eyes with her. She challenges me. So I…

Fuck it. I crush my lips into hers, witnesses be damned. She lets me. She matches me. The kiss is insistent, severe, if measured— no tongues, but plenty of passion. It's a question. An answer. A declaration.

Warmth spreads through me. My blood rushes south. She fists my shirt. I'm kissing her in front of everyone, and it's my own version of a confession. With this kiss, I'm admitting that nothing matters more than Pen and I, finding our way through everything she wants. Through all the things still unsaid between us.

A longyeeessssechoes in my head. Power runs through my veins. This feeling is familiar— it's what I felt when the Strike won the championship a few months before. It's hard to believe I didn't recognize it then. I could have kissed her just like this. Except she might have not responded like she does today, with hunger of her own, had we not gone through the past few months.

It hurts to stop, but I do. The statement is made. Anything more, and I'll go beyond PDA in front of my friends. And something in me knows I can't push her too far, too fast. Her heart needs to catch up first.

I get up and send a quick prayer to the compression underwear gods. Pen blinks up at me, confused by my sudden movement. I clear my throat and offer her a hand, inviting her to stand next to me.

Everyone gapes at us.

"We're leaving," I say. "Her trip and, you know."

Silence for a second. I count up to three, and I'm about to run away with Pen rather than wait for a response, when we get the first reactions.

"Finally!" Dom says.

"Is this really happening?!" Saint adds.

"Good night, everyone." Pen waves and is the first to walk away.

"So this is how it happens." Logan frowns at Evie. "Who the hell won the bet?"

I let Pen pull from me, but I face our friends for a second longer. "See you guys on Friday at TD."

Pen takes me by the hand and pulls me towards the stairs.

"You're not fooling anyone," someone shouts from behind us.

But we're already halfway down to the first floor, and unable to make out who was the one to speak. It's fine. I don't care, and Pen doesn't seem to either. We have much better plans at hand.