We pull up in front of my house fifteen minutes later, and I nervously tap my knuckle against my lip.
“Thank you for asking that couple for a jump,” he finally says.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter.
“I guess you’re not always shy, huh?” He smiles a little and the storm cloud lifts from over him.
“I think you make me a little bolder.”
“I’m sorry tonight wasn’t…special.” He sighs. My brows crash together as I stare at him, my knuckle is moving faster now.
“Not special? It was amazing, Mars.”
“Nothing went the way it was supposed to go.” He looks at me and I feel the moment swell between us. “That was all my fault.” He stares at me then drops his eyes to my mouth. “Spending time with you made everything better though.” He’s staring at my mouth again and I think I might melt into a puddle.
I want him to kiss me.
I think he wants to kiss me.
He tugs on my wrist, pulling my hand away from my mouth and I can feel it. I can feel how badly he wants to press his lips to mine. My throat is tight with anticipation. I can barely breathe, and for once it’s not because of that stupid wall.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and he leans in closer. I’m practically squirming in my seat. Our lips are too close for us not to kiss.
“I—I had a great time hanging out with you, Sage. I’ll text you when I get home.” He pulls back and my chest cracks open, disappointment oozing everywhere. I blink a few times and nod my head.
“Yeah…I had a great time too, Mars.” I grab my to-go bag and hop out of the huge truck, leaving behind drops of disappointment as I go in the house.
Mars
I should have kissed her.
God, I am such an idiot.
Her lips had parted. Her green eyes were wide and inviting me closer.
I wanted to. Fuck, how I wanted to.
But then I froze. Who was I even kidding? I’m Mars McKinney. Fuckup extraordinaire. Sage is beautiful and fragile. Like a pretty glass ornament sitting on a shelf way above me. It shines and beckons for me to touch it.
If I touch it, though, it’ll fall and break.
That’s what I do.
Break things.
“That’s the fourth order you’ve screwed up,” Jimmy complains when he sets down a new burger basket in the window.
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
Jimmy’s cousin, Collette, sidles up next to me and bumps me with her hip. “What’s going on, Mars?”
I grab the basket and shrug. “Just a girl.”
I ignore her squeal as I deliver the basket. She’s waiting for me with a big grin on her face when I make my way back behind the counter.
“What?” I grumble.
She snorts out a laugh. “Oh, you know what. I’ve lived in this town my entire life and went to school with your smug ass. Not once have I ever seen you flustered over a girl. Women fall all over themselves for you, not the other way around. She really must be something. Who is she?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “A girl I met at The Grind House.”
“In Ashton Hills?” she clarifies.
“Yep.”
Her lips purse together and she studies me. “You’re smart and you’ll go places one day. But don’t let one of those snobby Ashton Hills girls get you in a twist.” She rubs her pregnant belly. “You ought to find you a nice Duncan girl, honey.”
I don’t want a nice Duncan girl.
I want Sage.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, just to get her off my back.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Sage: What’s the dress code for our Saturday night date do-over, dragonfly?
Dragonfly.
Me: Dress comfortably and warm.
Sage: I can’t wait.
The thumping in my chest that always presents itself whenever I think of Sage comes roaring to life. A genuine smile tugs at my lips. When the world and self-doubt crush in on me, she gives me a breath of fresh air.
I don’t want a nice Duncan girl.
I need the nice girl from Ashton Hills.
And it scares the hell out of me.
I fidget as I wait at her front door. A few seconds after I knock, the door flies open. Each time I see Sage, her nerves seem to shed away. Meanwhile, I feel nervous as fuck.
She’s so beautiful.
Her green eyes are lined in little bit of mascara and her cheeks have the rosiest, natural glow to them. It’s her lips though I become fixated on. Lips I wanted to kiss the other day but didn’t have the balls to do.
I won’t break her.
It’s hard getting my dad’s condescending voice out of my head, but there are some things deep down inside of me I know are true. Sage is special and I want to make her feel that way. Whatever it is Dad has programmed into me to think, it’s not true. Yes, she may be well above my social standing and probably has more money than anyone I know, based on the size of her big-ass house, but it doesn’t mean I can’t see her. She clearly likes me as much as I like her. The only one I’m letting ruin this is my father.