I can sense the disappointment radiating off of him, but we can’t risk it—and he knows it. “Maybe tomorrow? It’s a Friday. Curfew isn’t as strict. Or are you going home?”
“I’m not going home until winter break.”
He stiffens, squeezing me closer to him. “Where are you going for break?”
“Nowhere. We’re spending it at home.” I hesitate, wondering if I should ask. Then I do. “Are you going home?”
He nods. “I’ll be at my parents’ apartment on the Upper East Side.”
“Oh.” Our parents are practically neighbors. “Maybe we could see each other.”
A slow smile spreads across his handsome face. “You want to, Birdy?”
He sounds surprised.
“I don’t know.” I shrug one shoulder, and he clutches my waist beneath my coat, trying to tickle me. “Stop! That tickles!”
“Stop trying to act like you don’t care, when I know you do.” He pulls me in so close I’m completely pressed against him, our lower bodies stuck together like glue. “It’s okay to admit that you like me.”
“I shouldn’t,” I tell him truthfully. “After everything you’ve put me through lately. For the last three years, actually.”
His expression turns somber. “I’m an asshole.”
“Yes, you are,” I agree.
“Birdy.” He sounds shocked.
“I didn’t say it. I just agreed with it.” I smile.
So does he.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he tells me, his mouth hovering above mine. “I promise.”
He kisses me.
And I can’t help it.
I believe him.