Page 20 of The Last Love Story

My brain short-circuits for a moment, the thought refusing to process:

Huxley Finn is kissing me.

I’m kissing Huxley Finn.

I drop my gym bag and grab at a fistful of his shirt, dragging him closer.

He slants into me, mouth opening wider as his tongue meets mine.

This isn’t my first kiss. Refining camp got boring, and there wasn’t much else to do. But now I’m starting to wonder if those were kisses at all.

This? This is different. Hux kisses like this is his only chance. He kisses me like he’s been thinking about it for a while.

I’ve written kisses like this between Orion and Saffron, but living it is something else.

His hand tangles in my hair as the footsteps round the corner, stopping as a firm voice barks out: “Hey, you two! Get to your stations.”

Hux, in the most Hux move ever, takes one more deep pull from the kiss before moving his head back a little, still inches from my mouth as he turns to eye the Hammers staring at us. His eyes roll as a hand comes to his lips, tugging along the flushed skin. Already, I can see the Hammers twitch hands toward their nightsticks. I pull against his shirt lightly, signalingWhat are you doingas best I can. Hux’s hand tightens along the nape of my neck.

Trust me, it seems to say.

I have a million reasons not to, but I have no choice.

“Stations,” a Hammer repeats, fingers already white around the grip of his baton.

Hux speaks lazily, like we have all the time in the world: “We’ve got five more minutes on our break.” Already, he’s turning back to me and running the tip of his nose along the curve of my jaw before brushing his lips against mine.

I shiver against him, closing my eyes briefly. A sharp noise makes me flinch: One of the Hammers has smashed his nightstick against the wall.

“Hey!” he yells. “We’re on a lockdown. Break’s over.”

This time when Hux pulls his mouth from mine, he straightens, hands on either side of my head, caging and shielding me all at once.

“Is it safe to walk her back to her station?” he asks, a protective note in his voice. Or is it more possessive?

The Hammer thinks for a second before he nods. “Get her there and then get your ass back to yours before I write you up.”

Hux holds his hands up as if to sayokay, okay, and the guards march past us. Holding my breath, I take a small step to the side, blocking their view of the server room door.

They brush past us, the last two chuckling to each other.

“Can’t blame him. Gotta get all that in before you turn eighteen,” one of them jokes.

Shock and fear war inside me as the Hammers disappear down the hallway. Hux breathes hard next to me, and I can’t tell if it’s from Hammers or the kiss or both. As I stare, he reaches over, hand out. For a second, I wonder if he’s trying to grab mine.

One kiss and we’re holding hands?

Before I can thoroughly embarrass myself by trying to lace my fingers through his, he turns his hand upward and uncurls his fist.

The poker chip.

I glance down at it, then up at him. Both eyebrows raise, and I know he means for me to take it.

So I do.

Before Hux can say anything, I’m walking down the hallway, back toward the classroom.

He doesn’t follow me. And I don’t look back.