“When I was about, I don’t know, maybe thirteen or so, I saved up all my allowance from doing chores to buy this really cool skateboard. I still remember it. It was this deep blue and bright neon green. Anyway, there was a skate park near my house and sometimes I’d sneak off there and hang out with the other kids. They taught me to do these fucking awesome tricks. I never told my mom I bought it because she would’ve worried and told me it was too dangerous.” He breathes out a laugh. “I remember wanting to be an Olympic skateboarder when I grew up, even though there was no such thing in the Olympics.” He presses a kiss against my hair. “What about you?”
“I used to be afraid of thunderstorms. When I was little, whenever there was thunder and lightning I would run into Zack’s room and huddle under the covers with him. He would tell me the angels were bowling up there to make me feel better. It definitely helped, but for some reason I still don’t love them. Oh, and I also have a photographic memory, especially with numbers. Although Avery and my parents know about that.”
“That’s damn near blackmail material.” He chuckles, and I elbow him softly in the ribs. “I like your friend, Troy,” he tells me, changing topics and catching me off guard. “He’s pretty funny.”
“Troy is amazing. I love him to pieces.”
“Did the two of you ever—”
“No.” I intercept his question. “I was never interested in him like that, and he was always into guys and never looked at me as anything other than a friend.”
Vance lets out what seems to be a relieved breath. “Right.”
“He’s had a hard time and I feel awful for him. When he came out to his parents they couldn’t cope with it. They still aren’t coping with it. They barely speak to him, except when they absolutely have to.” I sigh and Vance squeezes my hand. “From the very beginning they made him feel less than, like he wasn’t enough. Sometimes all a person needs to hear is, ‘You’re enough.’ Troy never got that from his parents and I think he needed that. Everyone does.”
“That fucking sucks. Is he okay, though? Because he seems happy.”
“Yeah, he is. He definitely has his days. But overall he’s good. He has two sisters who adore him and have always stood by him, and that makes all the difference.”
“That’s—”
“Hey, lovebirds.” The glass door slides open and Troy peeks his head out. “We’re playing Would You Rather, so get the hell in here.”
“Here we go,” I mumble, swinging my legs over the side of the lounger.
“What’s that?” Vance loops his arm around my shoulder as we head back into the house.
“Avery and Troy have a love affair with this game, so brace yourself.”
Vance allows me to walk in before him, gliding the door closed. The second I step inside, all eyes are on me.
“Perfect timing, Em,” Avery calls out. “It’s your turn and you have to play.” The three of them are lounging on the living room sofas. Avery clears her throat, trying to intimidate me with a raised eyebrow and an evil smirk. Once Vance and I are seated on the couch, she throws her first dart. “Would you rather kiss Vance or Julian?”
“Both,” Troy pipes up. Avery and I laugh, while Julian quickly takes another swig of his beer. Vance’s gaze heats the side of my face. “All right.” Troy’s eyes slide to mine. “Answer the question, Ems.”
“Gosh, I….” My face is too hot, glance darting back and forth between Julian and Vance as if actually needing to think about it. The answer is so obvious I might as well have a V carved into my chest—but I suspect my sister knows this. Pushing the blanket away, I flip her a hard stare. “I… have to go to the bathroom.” I spring up off the sofa and flee down the hall, laughing as their catcalls follow me. Inches from the door, Vance corners me from behind and spins me around. One arm braced against the wall, he hovers over me, his breath feathering my cheek.
“You didn’t answer the question,” he murmurs, blue eyes serious and probing. Flames lick up the back of my neck. Not from his proximity, but from something else. Something I don’t want to put a name to. The same something that steals my breath and makes my smile endless.
My voice comes out shaky instead of teasing. “I didn’t?”
“Nope.” His hips press into mine, body trapping me. I can feel his hardness against my thigh, but nothing about this is sexual. An air of desperation in his gaze makes me want to immediately put him at ease.
“Vance,” I whisper, skimming my fingertips down his cheek. “All my kisses belong to you.” The lines around his mouth relax and he smiles, his eyes flying to my lips.
“Mine?” he questions softly, tongue wetting his mouth, finger tracing the curve of my lower lip until I can hardly breathe. “Mine,” he repeats again more forcefully before his mouth crashes down against my lips, taking what’s his. My pulse accelerates, my heart doing a dance all its own. And I know with utmost certainty—that my kisses are not the only thing that belong to him.