That’s when the moment changed.
Sounds of the emptying baseball field fell away. The cool air around us kindled. The soft smile on her face faded as she looked into my eyes, shifting her gaze between them to see what I’d do next. Part of me wondered the same thing.
I’d kissed dozens of girls before. Some I wanted, others purely because I was bored. But I’d never felt anything like this. Anticipation. Want. Fear. Unlike any other kiss I’d ever shared, this one needed to be epic. Girls remembered their first kiss for the rest of their lives, and I had to leave Peyton with something good to cling to later… when I inevitably screwed everything up.
Gauging her reaction, I slowly lowered my head and watched her soft lips part. Adrenaline surged through my veins at the swipe of her tongue. She nodded once, silently giving me permission, then closed her eyes.
Inhaling the scent of sunflowers, I kissed her.
Soft and sweet. Those two words defined this girl. She tasted like sugar and her sigh was addictive as I brushed her mouth with mine. Again and again. I couldn’t get enough. Her hands clenched my wrists, tugging me closer. I could’ve lived in that moment forever.
My restless hands memorized the curve of Peyton’s spine, the dip of her waist. Hers slid down my arms and around my back, fisting my shirt before slipping underneath. A jolt of electricity ran over my skin. When her nails raked down my spine, I jerked and groaned into her mouth. She was a fast learner.
I kissed the corners of her triumphant smile, licked the bow of her top lip, and nipped at the bottom one. She sighed again and sank in my arms, matching me kiss for kiss, playful tug for playful tug. And still, I needed more. I’d probably always need more.
Tilting my head for better access, I grazed her cheeks with my fingertips. Traced the seam of her mouth with my tongue, silently asking for what I wanted. Hoping like hell she’d open up. Her answer was one shy flick. The shiver reached my toes.
No girl had gotten to me like this. Burrowed under my skin, held my interest, or had me thinking about tomorrow. Wishing I could be that guy. I lost myself in the strawberry taste of Peyton’s mouth, the sweet sounds in her throat, and I didn’t fully emerge until hours later. When I did, it was with one thought circling my brain:
How long until I mess this up?
SATURDAY, MAY 24TH
2 Weeks until Graduation
?Senior Year
PEYTON
FAIRFIELD ACADEMY BASEBALL FIELD 3:30 P.M.
“It drives me insane the way he stares at you.” Cade’s voice is low, meant for my ears only, but that doesn’t hide the edge of possession in his tone. And there’s no need to ask who he is. “Shouldn’t he be concerned with, oh, I don’t know, the game he’s in the middle of?”
“We’re ahead by two runs,” I say, watching Drew’s follow through and pretending not to feel Justin’s gaze on my cheek. “Plus, Justin’s ranked 25 in ESPN’s top 100 high school players. He could hit off this guy in his sleep.”
Sometimes, I seriously need to think before I speak.
What Cade wants to hear right now is, “God, you’re right, he’s so annoying.” Or, “Who cares? Let him look. It’s not like he’s got a shot with me anyway.” Or even, “Justin could stare at me all day long and it wouldn’t touch us at all. We’re solid.”
What my current boyfriend definitely does not want to hear is a frigging fangirl report on my ex’s stats. Normally, I’m much more accommodating. Today, my brain’s just muddled.
Can you blame me? Between my epic fail at the ranch, the pressure on Dad for his team to win, the constant memories of Justin, the tension with Cade (and not the romantic, sexy kind, either), finals, graduation, and college on the horizon—it’s amazing I’m not checking myself into the looney bin.
A muscle in Cade’s jaw flinches. “You were able to spit that out pretty quickly.”
I lift a shoulder and shrug but hold my tongue before anything else stupid can fall out.
The truth is, I’ve always been aware of Justin. It’s never stopped. I know about his game, I see him in the cafeteria, and I sense when he’s near me in the hall. Other than Cade, he’s the only boy I’ve ever dated, so I always just assumed this behavior was normal. Sure, things are different with Cade—there’s no itch under my skin, or desire to be around him constantly—but Justin was my first love. It made sense that my body reacted differently with him.
Only, why don’t I feel that way with Cade? And why do I still feel it with Justin? One boy hurt me beyond repair, the other stitched me back up. Cade and I have been together for almost a year. There should be no confusion here. My heart shouldn’t be so torn.
I steal another glance at the dugout and find Justin watching me again.