Page 6 of Holding Hope

“You really think so?” she asked softly.

Before I could answer, she started humming—my song. My heart stuttered. “You make it look so easy,” I muttered. “I wish I could write my own music.” “That’s okay,” she said gently. “Loads of artists don’t. And I could help you. Tonight, even.” “You’d do that for me?”

She shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t have slept anyway.” Her perfume—sweet like apple pie—wrapped around me. “You know you want to, Avalon. We can order in.”

“Well, I can never say no to food.” I grinned. “But first—the picture.”

Avalon smoothed the crumpled bill before sliding it into the machine. She leaned back, fixing her hair in the tiny mirror. I glanced at my reflection—suddenly hyperaware of my shoulders, my arms, my face.

People assumed I couldn’t be insecure because I fit the beauty standard. But insecurity didn’t care about standards.

“Okay, ready?” Avalon asked, leaning closer.

“How do you want to do this?” I pressed my cheek to hers and flashed a peace sign. She grinned and flipped off the camera. The flash went off.

We scrambled for the next pose, pinching each other’s cheeks and making ridiculous faces. Two pictures left.

Avalon shifted, then turned to me. “I want to try something. If that’s okay.” My heart hammered. “Okay.”

She looked at me—really looked—her gaze tracing my face slowly, reverently. The camera flashed. One picture left. Boom. Boom. Boom. She leaned in, inch by inch, until there was no space left.

“Can I kiss you, Clarke?”

“Yes,” I breathed. “Please kiss me.”

She smiled—small, nervous, devastating—and cupped my face.

“Jesus, I’m nervous now,” she whispered.

“Do you not want to⁠—”

“Shut up.”

Then she kissed me.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful. It was hungry—a collision of breath and heat and wanting that stole the air from my lungs. Our mouths moved together like we’d been waiting for this exact moment. Her hands slid to my waist; mine tangled in her hair.

The booth disappeared. The world narrowed to her lips, her breath, her body pressed against mine.

The camera flashed again, unnoticed. Avalon kissed down my cheek, my jaw, my neck— slow, deliberate, reverent. I pulled her back up, kissing her until my chest ached. “God, you’re so pretty,” she murmured against my mouth.

“You’re so pretty,” I whispered back, breathless.

She climbed into my lap, straddling me, her thigh braced against the wall. My jacket slipped off my shoulders. Her fingers skimmed my skin, leaving sparks in their wake. “Is this, okay?” I asked, tugging at her jacket.

She laughed. “I’ll take mine off if you take yours off.”

“Deal.”

We shed our jackets, and she kissed me again—deeper, slower, and with a kind of hunger that made my whole body tremble.

Maybe she really did want to eat me.

Avalon's fingers wandered across my neck, moving aside anything that got in her way. My hair, my necklace, the strap on my dress; anything that came between my skin and her lips needed to be moved.

The sensation building between my thighs and at the base of my belly that had been growing all night became almost unbearable as her soft mouth and touch traveled across my chest, her teeth digging into the soft flesh of my neck.

The moan that passed through my lips quickly turned into a gasp as the sharp tug was replaced with the cool wetness of her tongue, my fingers digging into her arms. I was a ticking time bomb, a volcano just milliseconds away from erupting.