“Did you just put a fingerprint on me again?”
“No.”
“Liar.” I turned my face like I was going to rub it into his shirt, but he stopped me by holding me still. That time, I felt a distinct trickle down the side of my face. “Did you seriously just put more ice cream on my face?”
“I didn’t mean to. I only do fingerprints. But you almost wiped it on my shirt.”
“Well, then you have to clean it off.”
“Fine.” He laughed and leaned over me, and for a second—a brief moment—I thought he was about to jump past me and leave me all alone.
I turned my head to stop him just as I felt the tip of his tongue and the heat of his breath on my cheek. As my head turned, his tongue swiped over my lips.
We both froze, neither of us moving away from one another. His mouth hovered over mine for several long, thudding heartbeats. In the dark, the unresistant trampoline under me, I felt the distinct weight of him dipping me further toward the ground.
His mouth opened, and I waited in suspense for him to say something, my impatience growing thin. When he said my name, “Navy,” I didn’t let him end the word before pressing my mouth to his.
He didn’t hesitate, kissing me back just as strongly as I kissed him. One of his arms slid under my back, as if he was afraid I’d slip right through the trampoline and fall away from him. My arms came around him, anchoring us to one another. I waited so long for this; I wasn’t ready to let go already.
The kiss was slow, seeking and searching. My heartbeat was fast, anxious and excited. Somehow, we kissed like it was natural, like this was something we’d done together for years instead of something I’d only dreamed about. His lips fit perfectly over mine, as he released and kissed me, released and kissed me, until I was breathless with want and sick of waiting.
He pulled inches away and the springs holding the trampoline to its frame squeaked a deafening sound. In the dark, I could make out the squint of his eyes. “Fuck,” he said. And I didn’t know if he was talking about the noise that interrupted our moment or the moment itself.
“That’s loud,” I said, prompting a confirmation.
He nodded, sighed, and laid his forehead on mine as his uneven breath shuddered over me. The hand under my back clenched into my shirt, pulling it taut in the front. My own arms around him hadn’t let go.
I was eager to find out if the kiss was so great simply because I’d waited a long time for it. I was willing to try it again, to see if it was still just as incredible the second time. And, if it was still so wonderful thanks to the newness of it, I was prepared to try again a third time. And a fourth. And a fifth. And as long as it took, until we felt nothing anymore.
Because I knew that was impossible. My feelings for Keane weren’t temporary, and if anything this kiss had only solidified that fact.
“Navy,” he said again. “I-I don’t know what to do. Where we go from here.”
In all the years since I’d first realized my crush for Keane, I’d imagined moments like this one. But I had never imagined what he might say, and, of course, what I’d say in return. I summoned all my courage and said, “Just keep kissing me. We’ll figure it out.”
7
KEANE
I couldn’t argue with her statement. Kissing was the best way to figure things out, romantically.
Well, I guess talking too. But we were both in too deep to press pause and talk this through. And besides, I didn’t want to talk it out. I wanted to keep kissing Navy. My best friend. Whose lips were the softest I’d ever touched.
I leaned over her, taking her shadowed face in for the first time in the dark. Her dark hair fanned all over her head, her dark eyes twinkling in the night. Her rosy lips curved in a way that made me wonder if I’d ever really looked at her before. If I’d ever observed all the little things that individually made Navy absolutely breathtaking. It was enough to sober a man.
This time when I kissed her, I didn’t do it just to taste. I kissed her slowly, taking my time learning what kissing Navy was actually like—and quickly I understood that kissing Navy was unlike anything else. I teased her lips with my tongue, opening her mouth fraction by fraction until she opened more for me to explore deeper. I couldn’t get her close enough to me, and our fronts were fully pressed together. I felt every curve and angle of her body against mine and it was not enough, but also it was everything.
I didn’t kiss her like I was waiting for something else. This was already more than I ever thought I wanted.
As I shifted my weight to more fully cover her, the springs sounded out another hearty squeal.
“Fuck,” I said right into her mouth. “If we’re not quiet, we’ll end up with an audience here soon.”
Her arms tightened around my body for a quick second. “Let’s go to your room then.”
All the blood in my body drained to flood my dick. Did she… did that mean…
Maybe I shouldn’t ask.
“You’re ready to go inside?” I asked instead, sending a warning to my erection to stand down.
“Yeah,” she said softly. Fuck, that was hot.
In an effort to not stab her with the pointy thing in my pants, I moved gingerly off of her body. She began to pick up the ice cream mess and I waved her off. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get it in the morning.”
“But it’ll melt.”
“I finished the second one already,” I said with a grin as I moved to standing and reached a hand down to lift her up.
Navy didn’t take my hand. “You’ll pick it up tomorrow?”
“I promise.” I held out my pinky.
She hooked her pinky with mine and after grabbing her forearm with my other hand, I pulled her to standing. The trampoline shifted under our feet, making us bounce for a second.
Navy giggled. “I’m still pretty buzzed. Maybe even a stidge drunk.”
“Stidge? Yeah, you probably are a stidge drunk.” Our hands clasped, our fingers interlocking.
“I was thinking tidge and smidge,” she said, “I combined them.”
“Impressive,” I said, and felt myself wobble. I squeezed her hands in an effort to ground myself. “I think I’m a stidge drunk too.” I led her to the opening in the net and jumped down, landing gracefully on my feet despite the imbalance in my head. The trampoline squeaked violently, sending Navy into a fit of laughter. In the near silent night around us, it was not exactly an inconspicuous sound.
“How are we going to get to your bedroom without making a ruckus?”
“We probably won’t,” I told her. “But here, I’ll carry you. Then only one set of footsteps will stumble about the place.”
I held my arms open to her, and she crouched down, scooted toward the edge of the trampoline and wrapped her legs around my waist and arms around my neck as my hands held her ass.
There was exactly zero percent chance that she wouldn’t feel my raging boner in this position.
I’d carried Navy dozens of times, but usually she was behind me as I gave her piggy backs. This forward carry was immensely distracting, and I knew without a doubt that I’d fall into walls and furniture and it wouldn’t be thanks to alcohol alone.