Page 96 of Rare Blend

“Hmm?” I don’t trust my voice.

“Do you ever think about it?”

My lungs squeeze. All breathing comes to a halt. I’m not sure if her mind is where mine is.

A silent beat passes.

“The kiss,” she clarifies.

All the time.“Yes,” I say hesitantly. I’m not sure where she’s going with this.

“Me, too,” she admits.

Silence.

It stretches between us, thick like dense fog. I don’t know where to go from here. I feel like anything I could say would be wrong.

I want to kiss you again.

I think about kissing you all the time.

I wonder what would’ve happened had we not been interrupted.

So.

Many.

Thoughts.

Her fingers begin tiptoeing across my torso, as if they’re dancing to a silent song. Is it intentional? Is she trying to kill me?

A pattern forms. Definitely intentional.

Her body shakes, and for a second, I think she’s crying, but I quickly realize she’s snickering.

“What are you doing?”

She snorts, laughing harder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice is full of mock confusion.

I bark a laugh. “Are you sure you don’t still have a fever?”

“I was feeling fidgety and didn’t know what to do with my hands.” She’s giggling. That same awful giggle I heard that first night. I liked it then, but now I’m certain I love it.

She starts the dance again, but I quickly capture her hand in mine.

“Boo,” she protests. “You’re no fun.”

She can’t see my face. She can’t see that I’m always up for a challenge. “That’s it.” I trap her so she can’t move and tickle her under her ribs.

She squeals so loud it echoes. “Ethan,” she screams.

Fuck, do I wish my name was being screamed like that for an entirely different reason.

She squirms, trying to escape, but I’m relentless.

Her shirt lifts.

My hands slip.