“You think so?”
He meets my eyes. “Not all of them.” He looks away and flips through a few more photos, but I’m not paying attention. I think he just he gave me a compliment, though I’m not really sure what he meant. I hear him take a breath beside me, then he clicks on another photo. It’s me. I stare, stunned and trying to understand when he took the picture. I’m laughing about something in the shot—my head back and my mouth parted, my hair blowing across my eyes so you can just see parts of them. It’s in black-and-white, but he’s colored my hair violet.
“You have a great smile,” he says beside me in a quiet voice. My cheeks feel really warm and I know I’m blushing. I pick up my drink and swallow the rest in two big gulps.
I turn and look at him. “When did you take this?”
“A while ago. You were outside with Delaney. Are you freaked out?”
“Should I be?”
“You might think it’s weird.” His gaze drops and I can feel him looking at my mouth. I want to rub at it, thinking that maybe my lipstick is on my teeth or something.
“You’re staring,” I say.
“I’m trying to figure out a way to kiss you.”
“Why don’t you just ask?”
“Can I kiss you?”
I nod, but now I’m unsure, thinking all kinds of crazy things, like I hope my breath is okay, and what if I’m a bad kisser—what if he’s a bad kisser—but then his lips are touching mine and they’re soft and warm and taste like spiced rum. We’re getting more into it, our mouths mashing together and my face and body feels so warm and heavy, almost sleepy in a really good way. Someone turns the music up in the living room and the beat pulses through my body, and I realize I might be a little drunk and wonder how much rum he put in my drink, but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and he pulls me closer so that I’m almost sliding off the chair and onto his lap. One of his hands is on my hip, under my shirt, and it’s moving in slow circles and now it’s sliding up over my rib cage and his thumb grazes under my breast. I try to pull back, but now his hand is coming over my nipple, rubbing through my bra, and it feels so good, but I also feel a jolt of fear. It’s too much, too fast.
“Wait,” I say, but he’s kissing my neck now and his breath sounds fast in my ear and his hand is still rubbing circles around my nipple and I get this fluttery feeling in my stomach. “Hey, stop.” This time he brings his head up, looks me in the face. His eyes are dark, the pupils huge.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want to stop.”
He slides his hand down to my waist. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you over the music.”
“I think I drank too much. I don’t feel good.”
“Oh, shit, really? I’ll get you water.” He grabs my hand and pulls me up off the chair. I follow him down the hallway, still holding hands. Delaney is in the kitchen, talking and laughing with his friend. She gives me a wink and I try to smile back. Jared passes me a glass of water and I gulp it down, but now my head is pounding and it feels like everyone is looking at me.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say to Jared.
He gives me a concerned look and leads me into the master bedroom. “Use this one, it’s more private. Do you want me to get Delaney?”
“No, thanks. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” I close the door.
I splash cold water on my face, the back of my neck, then look in the mirror. My lips are red and swollen, my cheeks pink from our faces rubbing together. I press my hand onto my stomach, trying to feel what he felt, my warm skin, the bumps and shapes of lower ribs. I can even feel my heart beating. I raise my hand, cover my breast, thinking about his hands, then lean forward and press my forehead into the cold glass mirror. I feel high, my mind floaty and dreamy like when I’m in the middle of painting and I can feel all the colors coming together perfectly.
Is this what love feels like? Am I falling in love with Jared? I keep staring into my eyes, waiting for the answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LINDSEY
“Can you take these?” I pass the last two hors d’oeuvres trays to Greg. “Mini-quiche on the coffee table, spanakopita on the sideboard.”
“Got it.” He walks out of the kitchen, balancing the glass plates carefully in his large hands. I double-check that all the food trays are out and the oven is off, then remove my apron and hang it up. I glance in the mirror by the back door, smooth my hair.