His gaze falls on my lips, and he groans. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I don’t?” I question, enjoying the hunger in his face more than I should.
He chuckles, averting his gaze to his black Vans and rubbing the back of his neck, the blush on his skin spreading to the tips of his ears. “I really like kissing you.”
I smile, his words like Cupid’s arrow to my heart. “I really like kissing you, too.”
Pulling the car out of the parking spot, he sucks in air through his mouth, his voice deeper and raspier when he says, “Christ. You’re killing me here, Miller.”
My laughter sounds breathy with need and nervousness, the potent tension sparking between us and demanding to be acknowledged.
What the hell am I getting myself into? Levi is playful, persistent and a hothead—judging from the way he started the fight with Sol. I can’t help but compare both boys. Sol is intense and somewhat shy, and when provoked, he’s like a lion. And God, he’s got quite the right hook.
As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Levi’s hand leaves the wheel and covers mine on my knee. My breath hitches in my throat as his warmth seeps into my skin, taking up residence in that same place where Sol’s touch lives. And my heart tries so damn hard to fight letting Levi in, but it feels so good. It’s a balm to my soul. A lullaby to a restless child, and my heart stops kicking and fighting. It accepts it, welcomes it, and allows it to slow its frantic pace.
“This is nice,” I say, lifting his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.
“It is, isn’t it?” His gaze darts to mine, a small smile stretching his lips before focusing on the road ahead. I study the shape of his hard jaw and the way his hair falls over his forehead.
“Like what you see?” he asks with a smirk, his gaze still on the road.
“Maybe,” I admit, and his smirk morphs into a dimpled grin.
“Wanna have breakfast at my place tomorrow?”
“Sorry. I already have plans.”
“Oh.” He frowns, then quickly smooths it away. “Can I wiggle into those plans?”
“Of course. Nine o’clock Mass at St. Magdalene Church downtown.” Before my trip, I attended Mass regularly, and I miss being a part of it. I haven’t been since leaving Barcelona months ago, so I’m really looking forward to it.
From his profile, I see his brow inch high up his forehead. “I didn’t know you were the churchgoing type.”
Something about the way he says it rubs me the wrong way. Or maybe I’m overacting; I don’t know. I take a deep breath to soothe the irritation burning inside my chest and play along. “So what type do you think I am?”
He lets out a small laugh and says, “Well, you were with, um, him . . . I wouldn’t have thought . . . I mean—”
“Just spit it out already, Levi.”
He rubs the back of his neck with his fingers, darting a look at me before facing forward again. “I guess I’m just wondering . . . he was studying to be a priest. But you two were together. Isn’t that a sin or something?”
I was right. I don’t like the tone of this conversation.
“Are you serious right now?”
“What? I’m just saying—”
“You’re judging me for my past, Levi. Do you hear me judging you about yours?”
His hands tighten on the wheel, and he blows out a breath. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said. I have no right to assume I know you.”
“No, you don’t,” I snap at him, crossing my arms over my chest and staring out the window. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“But I’d really like to get to know you.” He sighs wearily. Seconds later, his warm hand covers mine, prying my fingers until they slacken, then lacing our fingers together again. “I’m really sorry, Grace.”
I sigh, allowing my shoulders to relax.
The next few minutes silent, and as soon as he pulls into the parking lot outside Beckett Hall, I pull my hand from his, open my door, and hop out. He joins me on the curb a few seconds later.
The wind picks up suddenly, causing goose bumps to pop up on my skin as a familiar scent washes over my senses and my eyes fall shut as I breathe in. “It’s about to rain.”
“How do you know?”
Opening my eyes, I smile up at him. “I can smell and feel it.”
“Really?” He frowns. “How?”
Without warning, my mind goes back to the time I opened up to Sol about being able to sense the rain. The fascination in his eyes was completely different from Levi’s reaction.
Immediately, I realize what I’m doing. What I’ve been doing all along—and that’s comparing both boys. It’s not fair, and I need to stop. Otherwise, I’ll never move on with my life.
My smile widens, and I say, “I don’t know. I’ve always been able to sense it. My mom used to tell me it’s my superpower.”
His head slants to the side as a grin chases the frown away. “That’s really cool. You and your mom get along well?”
“She’s my best friend.”
“She still going on the cruise with her boyfriend?”
My eyes widen. “How did you know that?”
He blinks at me. “You mentioned it a few weeks ago when you dropped by during practice . . .”
Oh. Crap. I must have been more upset than I thought. “Right. Sorry.” I flash him a smile in apology. “Yep. The cruise is still on.”
“So you’re not heading home?”
I shake my head. “My grandparents are driving from New York for Thanksgiving dinner. So I really won’t be alone.”
His brows furrow in a confused frown. “Wait, your grandparents live in New York? Not in Portland?”
I don’t want to get into the whole estranged parents-daughter issue, so I say, “It’s a long story.”
He nods, clearly sensing my reluctance to talk about it. He leans in, slipping his arm around my waist and pulls me closer. “What about after church? You and MJ could come hang with us.”
“Um . . .” Take the leap, Grace. Don’t overthink it. Then I remember. “I’m having brunch with MJ and Zulakya. I could come by later?” Maybe I could do a short video with the boys for my channel. I haven’t posted in about two weeks.
“Sure. Bring Zula with you. She might be good for Mesh’s broody ass.”
I snort, thinking about those two together. “Yeah, now that’s an interesting combination.”
He laughs, and that sound sends shivers down my spine, warming my heart.
Without thinking, I reach up and push his hair back, then hike on the tips of my toes and kiss his cheek.
“What was that for?” he asks, his eyes moving from my mouth to my eyes as if he can’t decide where to focus his attention.
I shrug. “I just felt like it.”
He smiles. “You’re cute. Should we make this official? You and me?”
And there goes my heart, galloping all over the place again. Putting a label on what’s happening between us isn’t something I want to do at the moment.
“Uh, do we have to? I don’t think I’m ready. At least not yet.”