She blinks. “You surf?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re going to strap a piece of wood to your ankle and then go out into the ocean, the most powerful natural force on the planet, and wait for sixteen feet of water to crash over you?”
“I’ll have to write that down,” I say drily. “My brother can put it on their flyers.”
She smiles—just a small upturn of her lips. The always-in-control version of Mai. “I’m not the adventurous type,” she says.
“How do you know if you’ve never tried?”
“Because you mention surfing and I think of death.”
“There are other things.” My seat belt pinches, so I undo it and roll out my shoulders. “Rock climbing?”
“Death.”
“Hot air balloon?”
“Death.”
“Trampolining?”
“Head injury.”
“Horseback riding?”
“Chafing.”
“Chafing?”
“I was on a horse once. My inner thighs. You have no idea.”
There she goes, making me smile again. “I don’t. You should show me.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile peeks out again. I feel something expand inside me…unknot. A laugh, maybe. She always made me laugh.
I shift to face her. “We had some fun, didn’t we?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Yes, we did. For a little while.”
It was never going to be more than that. She wanted plans and rules and reasons. Everything was about the future. I hadn’t looked ahead since Dad’s doctor told us pancreatic cancer and I realized there was nothing good to look forward to.
In the dim light, her brown eyes are like magnets. They tug at me. “You looked beautiful tonight. Up on the stage, giving your speech.”
“I was in a plastic gown the color of dried blood.”
I lean forward, sliding my thumb over her lips, lightly. Slowly. “You were in this lipstick.”
Her breath shudders out. Her eyes widen, and then she pulls back until we’re not touching. Not in danger of touching. “This lipstick causes nothing but trouble.”
“Yeah, it does.”
A sigh whispers out. “I should go. Good luck, Anthony.”
It sounds final. It is final.
I have the strangest urge to grab her hands and not let her leave. Instead, I tighten my fingers on the wheel. “You, too, Mai.”
“Thanks again for the ride.”
“Thanks for licking your hands first.”
Her smile appears, and the mood lightens. I’m glad. Keep things easy right until the end.
“Well, then,” she says. “I’m going.”
“Yep, you should go.” I lean in to give her a friendly good-bye hug. Seems like I ought to. She leans in, too, and I get a whiff of her scent. Spicy-sweet and warm. I pull back from the hug, letting my hands skim over her shoulders and down her bare forearms. It feels like I’m holding cool velvet. I should let go, but I can’t. My pulse is kicking like a jackhammer.
Our eyes meet. Hold. I feel that humming sensation again, low and deep.
Whatever was between us is still there. Still fizzing.
“One last kiss?” I don’t know where the words come from. Hardly recognize my own thick voice.
“No!” She sounds almost panicked.
Then she blows out a breath, leans forward, and kisses me.
Damn.
Her mouth on mine feels so good, I groan. My body immediately remembers every time I held her, and now that I’ve got my hands on her again, it’s singing Hallelujah! My hand is in her hair—taking control of her mouth, of the kiss…kisses.
I’ve missed this. Missed her.
We break apart to breathe. Her eyelids flutter open. Her pupils are dilated, her always-focused eyes unfocused. She once complained that my kisses made her stupid. I loved that.
I still do.
“Oh Lord,” she mutters. Just like that, her brain is working again. Immediately, she pulls away. This girl is always pulling away. She always would be. But still…
“I have to go.” She opens the car door and gives me one last look and a sigh that sounds wistful. “I really hope you’re not the only guy who kisses like that.”
She closes the door, and I drop my head back, thumping it against the window. I shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have stirred everything up again.
Let it go, Adams. Be chill. You’re leaving. She’s leaving. Forget you saw her. Forget you kissed her.
I watch her stride up the walkway, and it’s like the spring all over again. Her walking away. Me sitting here missing her.
Frustration rolls through me. All that time forgetting and now her scent is in my car and her laugh is in my head, and I know I haven’t forgotten a single damn thing. A spark of anger breaks through my normal calm. My pulse quickens, and a throb presses against my temples. I’m not going to spend the next however-long thinking about her and missing her. Not again. I’m getting Mai out of my system, once and for all.
I just have to figure out how.
Chapter Three
Mai
“How do I look?”
Dad glances up from a file folder and sips his coffee. “Like you’re about to face a thousand angry bees.”
I take another look at myself: hiking boots, long khaki pants, long-sleeve white shirt, and Mom’s wide-brimmed boater hat with brown velvet laces. But Dad’s comment makes me realize my mistake. “I should have gotten one of those beekeeper hats with the face netting.”
Mom smiles. She’s adding spinach leaves to the blender. “Are you expecting bees?”
“No. I’m expecting rattlesnakes.” Much worse than a thousand measly Africanized killer bees.
It’s Monday morning, first day of my trail project, and part of me would like to be back in bed where the most dangerous animal is a stuffed panda pillow that’s missing an ear. I check to make sure my gloves are still tucked in my back pocket. It’s only 6:15 in the morning, but the sun is already glinting off the copper pans hanging over the cooktop. I try not to think about how hot it’s going to get. “That smoothie isn’t for me, is it?”
“It’s for Ethan. Would you like one?” Mom asks. “I’ve got plenty of spinach.”