Best of all, they shared a chocolate milkshake.
She was smart and funny and easy to be with, and the more time they spent together the more she came out of her shell. The only hitch in the entire evening was the rather minor point that he couldn’t watch the ballet at all. He pretended to, sure. But mostly he just watched her. The way she moved. The way her dress hugged her body. He wanted to touch her so damn much. To kiss her softly so that he could hear how much she liked it. And then hard, because that’s what he wanted. All these feelings inside him, this need. It was all because of her, and he was a walking, talking ball of lust with a hard-on, and he really wasn’t sure how he was going to hide that from her.
He spent the last act of the ballet trying to distract himself by thinking about how he’d photograph the stage if he’d been hired to do the publicity shots. What film speed. What aperture. How he’d place the dancers in relation to the set. How he’d set up the lighting. And maybe he should use a filter to give it a magical quality.
The more he thought about it, the deeper he sank. And, thank God, the more he relaxed. So by the curtain call he could stand beside her and not risk complete and total mortification.
But oh, God, he wanted this girl.
“That was amazing.” She took his hands. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”
They were in a semi-private box, and the two other couples filed out first. She started to head that direction, but he tugged her back. “Wait,” he ordered when she arched a brow in question. “I still owe you something.”
For a moment she looked confused. But when he stepped closer and slid his hand around her waist, her eyes grew wide. His palm rested against her lower back, and he could feel her heat and the little nervous tremble. “I owe you a kiss, remember?”
Her lips parted just a little, as if she was going to speak. But then she swallowed and simply nodded. He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, a kiss as soft as breath, tentative and easy, because he knew it was her first. But when he heard her soft little moan of pleasure, it was like someone had thrown gasoline on a fire. Need exploded inside him, and he pulled her closer, until her body was flush against his, and her arms locked around his neck as if he was the only safe haven she knew.
With his free hand, he cupped her head, wanting more—everything—and when her lips parted and he deepened the kiss, his tongue tasting and teasing, he thought that if he died right then it didn’t matter, because nothing could be more perfect than this.
When they finally broke the kiss, she was flushed and breathless and absolutely beautiful. “First kiss,” he said, with a tease in his voice. “How’d you like it?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, her words belied by the sparkle in her eye. “Maybe I need a second kiss to compare it to.”
He was happy to comply, and gave her lots and lots of comparison kisses on the far-too-short ride back to LA. And when the car pulled up in front of Joy’s house, her lips were swollen, her eyes bright, and her hair just a little disheveled.
She looked amazing. More than that, she made him feel amazing.
“Thank you,” she said as the driver opened the door. “You showed me the world tonight,” she added, and he was certain she wasn’t only talking about the ballet.
He kissed her one more time on Joy’s doorstep, and felt like the coolest guy in the world.
After that night, they became inseparable, but in an understated, quiet way. Neither of them wanted word to get back to her dad. So they were careful. Very careful. They walked together in the areas of the club that weren’t well-trafficked. They spent a lot of time in their copse of trees, where he took photo after photo of her, until she’d hold up her hand and say that she wanted to talk to him, not a lens.
And there were kisses. Lots of kisses. The kind that were a promise of things to come. Things they both wanted, but certainly couldn’t ever have. How could they, when they couldn’t even go on a real date?
When the end came, he had no clue that he’d started walking down that path. On the contrary, he was actually looking forward to the future. Wondering how they’d make it work with him in Boston and her in LA. But he was sure they would make it work. That much he promised himself.
The night of Patrick’s party, he knew that her parents were out of town, and he’d called her house and asked if she wanted to come. Just a bunch of kids from the club and a few from the town. It would be fun, he assured her.
“I’m watching Griffin tonight.”
“I thought he was almost thirteen. He can’t stay a few hours by himself?”
“It’s just that—”
“What if I come over to your place?”
“And, what? Rely on Griff to keep a secret? He would—for me, he totally would—but he’s just a kid and he might slip up. We’ve talked about that, Wyatt. Remember?”
“I know. I know. It’s okay. I get it.” He wanted to mean it, but he couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. “It’s just that Patrick’s family’s house is huge. There’d be space for us to be alone, you know? Without feeling like we’re in a spotlight at the club.”
“I want that, too,” she said, with so much sincerity in her voice that he felt like a heel for being irritated that she wouldn’t come. “But even if babysitting wasn’t part of the equation, should we really be seen together like that? At a party? I mean, we’ve been so careful. What if my dad—”
“It’ll be crowded. Just a group of kids. Worst that happens is he finds out you left your brother for a few hours to go to a party with a bunch of teenagers. He doesn’t need to know anything else.”
Even as the words came out of his mouth, he couldn’t believe he was saying them. Was he really encouraging her to break all those rules? Yeah, he was. Because he was a selfish asshole who wanted to see her. Just for a few hours. What was the harm?
And they had so little time left.
“The summer’s almost over,” he pointed out. “I’m gone in less than two weeks.”
“Wyatt, please—”
“Just write down the address. I’m staying the night with Patrick, so you can come anytime if you change your mind, okay?”
She hesitated, but in the end she relented. “Okay. But I probably won’t come.”
He gave her the address. “And Kelsey? I’ll be waiting.”
“Don’t count on me.” Her whisper was so soft, he barely heard it, and when she ended the call, he felt a little lost.
“You fell hard, dude,” Patrick said. “Is widdle Wyatt in wuv?”
Wyatt punched him in the arm. “You’re a prick, you know that, right?”
“Bullshit. I’m a great guy. Everyone says so.”
Wyatt laughed, but he couldn’t get the question out of his head. It was the first time he’d really thought about it, and he knew with one hundred percent certainty that the answer was yes.
That ought to scare him, he thought, but it didn’t. It made him feel great. And it made him want Kelsey beside him all the more.