It makes me want to reciprocate. To be just as vulnerable as his touch.
I lightly flick the lock of hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m glad you didn’t. Because…I like your soul.”
His finger stills and he looks up at me. Our eyes collide for two twisting, drawn-out breaths. I am scorching. My skin prickles from my head to the tips of my toes. Does he know how much his nearness affects me? Does he know I’m dying to dive through those beautiful eyes and see all his hidden thoughts? I need to know if there’s a chance he will ever love me like I love him.
Are we friends?
Or are we more?
My heart pounds more and more aggressively the longer we sit staring at one another. He doesn’t say anything. WHY?! Why won’t he speak? Do you like my soul too? I’d settle for a compliment on my shirt. A casual, That’s nice, your shorts are cute. Anything! Just say something please!
But the longer he takes, the more I wonder if he’s trying to formulate the perfect response to let me down easy. Your soul is okay, I guess. I’ve seen better.
I don’t give him a chance to answer—I panic. “Instagram!”
He frowns. “Huh?”
I scramble out of his lap, feeling my cuts all sting angrily when I bend my knees and retrieve my phone off the coffee table. “We haven’t posted a cutesy photo in a while, and that was part of the contract agreement, right? They wanted us to post couple stuff with their curated hashtags?”
“Yeah…”
“Let’s get to posting, then! We could stage a photo of us playing checkers or something? Do you own a checker board? Or cards? We could play cards…I’ll let you win. Why are you smiling like that?”
He chuckles almost under his breath. “Why are you blabbering?”
I stare right at him and blurt my truth in one long word vomit. “Because I told you I like your soul and you didn’t respond.”
Half of his mouth tilts into a smile. “I was going to, but you didn’t give me a chance.”
“You were taking too long. If we were on Jeopardy, the buzzer would have sounded way before I interjected.”
“I didn’t realize there was a time limit.”
“There is. There’s always a time limit. And now I know you hate my soul.”
He takes my phone from my hand, fiddles with it, and sets it carefully back onto the coffee table. “Some people need more time to get their answer right. It’s not fair to give a time limit.”
“Sorry, but that’s life, buddy. You can’t wait forever.” I realize now that he’s angled the phone on the coffee table, setting it up so that it’s facing us.
He looks at me again. “I disagree. I think some things are worth waiting for, no matter how long it takes.”
Nathan leans over and punches the button on the side of my phone, and a light starts flashing for the ten-second timer. Before I have a moment to grasp what’s happening, he puts a hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me over so that my back falls flush with the couch cushion. This is new. Nathan hovers over me, pinning me in as the subtle countdown flashes continue to spark beside us.
“Bree, I want to kiss you. Is that okay?”
All I can do is nod.
He bends down, slowly, and drops one soft lingering kiss to my mouth. Fire explodes in my belly. We are not in public. And the camera is still counting down. This kiss isn’t for anyone but me and him. That was when it was just fake. His lips are warm, soft, vulnerable caresses. They end far too soon.
“Your soul is my favorite in this entire world,” he replies quietly, just as the camera sends the final bright flash signaling the photo.
I’m shocked. So scared I’m dreaming I could cry. It wasn’t exactly a declaration, but it felt like it. My heart beats: Hope. Hope. Hope.
I take his jaw in my hand. “Hold still.”
“Why?” Nathan says on a chuckle, because if I can be counted on for anything, it’s making a moment weird.
“Because you don’t have a good poker face, and I want to see if I can find the answer to something.”