“No, Becca. And if it is, I will protect you from all the fictional horror. Can I continue?”
“You seem very excited to read this.”
She was right. I was. I loved the thought of sharing something that was important to me with her.
I rested one arm on the couch and wrapped the other one around her waist until she was caged against me, the book held in front of the two of us. When she nestled herself back into my chest, I continued reading. I was glad she didn’t comment on how my voice sounded a little breathless. It was kind of pathetic what being so close to her did to me.
When I was halfway through the fifth chapter, Becca let out a long breath. It blew her hair around her face and it was like she finally let herself relax, let herself breathe. Her head rolled slightly to the side until her nose was pressed against my neck. I could feel her lips brush against my skin, feel her breath there too. Her hand slid up my chest and stopped over my heart. Then she just left it there.
I kept reading the entire time.
“Brett?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve read the same sentence three times.”
I had?
“Sorry,” I mumbled. Her breath was still there, fanning across my neck. “You make it hard to concentrate.”
“Do I?” she asked, lifting her head from my chest, pointing her chin up until her eyes met mine. They were darker than normal, like the sky after a rainstorm and the ocean, swirled into one. I could drown in them, I realized. I was drowning in them.
I really did love her. And here, in the darkness, it was like those words were all that existed. That and my heart beating too quickly. And Becca’s lips too close. And the way her eyes fluttered closed for a second longer than normal after drifting to my mouth.
“Becca?”
“Yes?”
“No more pretending,” I said. “No more faking. No more any of that.”
Her eyebrows drew together. I ran my thumb across the lines. “I know that,” she said, pausing to yawn. “Why are you saying this again?”
“Because I need you to know that this is real.”
Then I kissed her, and it felt like I was sliding off the edge of the world.
Her eyes drooped closed, fingers slowly touching my cheeks, holding me to her. When I tugged her with me back onto the couch, until we were lying chest to chest, she let me, her mouth never leaving mine.
I could feel her hand slide from my face to my arm and stop there, holding me. Good, I thought, don’t let go.
“It feels like the world is going to explode when I kiss you,” I whispered.
“Then let it explode,” she said.
I tugged her face back to mine and did just that.
Becca
I WAS SITTING UNDER THE oak tree behind the football field, watching practice. Tomorrow night was Brett’s first game back on the team. It was somewhat of a big deal. His parents were going to be there. My mom and Cassie were coming too. And it was weird, not being nervous for our worlds to clash a little more. Slowly, I stopped trying to keep my mom and Brett apart with a ten-foot pole.
They’re both big parts of my life. A little crossover couldn’t hurt.
The team had been practicing for a while now—I’d stopped paying attention after the first hour. Now I was reading my book, whisked away into another world. I was halfway through a page when I looked up to find Brett jogging toward me. The sun was making his hair shine that familiar golden hue.
“Shouldn’t you be ripping your shirt off and running laps?” I called.
He was grinning, looming in front of me and hogging all the sun. “You’d like that, huh? Scoot over, let’s share.” I inched to my left, making room on the tree trunk for Brett to rest on. He was leaning back, eyes closed, out of breath.
“They’re staring at you,” I whispered, watching his teammates.
“Ignore them,” he said, pressing his face into my neck. “Read to me.”
“Shouldn’t you keep practicing?”
“I’ve done enough drills for the day.” He plucked the book from my hands, inspected the cover. “I recognize this one. Haven’t you read this, like, a hundred times?”
“Twenty, actually,” I said, snatching it back. “Today marks the twenty-first time.”
He grinned. Shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” he said, jerking his chin toward the book on my legs. “Read to me.”
“Why?”
“Because you go somewhere else when you read. I want to go there with you.”
We sat there and I read aloud, my back to Brett’s chest. He pulled me a little closer, held me a little tighter. And this time, we escaped together.