Page 41 of The Long Way Home
“I am a bit cold,” she murmurs. “A fire sounds nice, Rhett.”
Christ. I drag a hand over my jaw. Josh is going to kill me.
“Trust me,” I say quietly. “A guy like Sean would be a waste of your time. He couldn’t give you the thing you want even if you showed him how to step by step.”
She inhales sharply. Her eyes widen just slightly, and I don’t think she was expecting me to go that far.
But then she does the unthinkable. She steps even closer to me. She is so close now that I can feel her breath on my chest.
“Then who do you think could?” she whispers.
My pulse hammers so hard I’m sure she can hear it.
My hands curl into fists—some last ditch, desperate effort, to contain the impulse that rises in me whenever she’s this near. If I reached out, if I allowed myself even the smallest movement, my fingers would find the curve of her arm without hesitation. The thought alone sends heat rushing through me.
I swallow, forcing my eyes away from her mouth. That’s the problem—her mouth. Her mouth is the danger. Soft and parted slightly, basically begging me to put mine on top of it. The faintest sheen catches the low light and reflects of her lips. It would be so easy. One step. One touch.
And it would be over.
“You said you wanted to be noticed,” I say, voice rough from everything I’m holding back. I take a step back from her. “You are. They just aren’t worthy of your attention.”
For one terrifying, exquisite heartbeat, I swear she knows exactly what I mean. She sees how close I am to losing it.
But the first time I kiss Rachel can’t be like this.
It can’t be done with the faint smell of alcohol on her breath. Or with her swaying just slightly closer than she normally would. I don’t want to kiss her when my head is spinning because I want her so badly I can barely think straight.
The worst part is, I know exactly what the kiss would feel like. I’ve imagined it too many times. My hand sliding up to cup her jaw, the way she’d probably look surprised for half a heartbeat before melting into it, the warmth of her lips against mine. But Rachel deserves more than a moment I steal because neither ofus are thinking clearly. Where I’m not wondering tomorrow if she remembers it the same way I do.
I take a step forward, beginning to walk towards her dorm. I let the spell break. She starts walking again beside me.
The line wasn’t crossed. But God, it felt like we were teetering on it. If I'm going to cross that line with her, I have to do it right. I have to talk with Josh. I've got to be honest with him.
We move down the quiet street, her steps becoming less uneven with each block that passes. The night air is sharp against her flushed skin.
After a while, her voice cuts through the soft hum of the neighborhood.
“Hey, Rhett?” I can hear the hesitancy in her voice.
“Hmm?” I tilt my head toward her, my eyes meeting hers in the dark.
“How come you never talk about your parents?”
The question catches me off guard. I blink once and glance away. My shoulders tense before I can stop them. I can feel her looking at me, waiting for me to answer.
“There isn’t much to talk about,” I say, hoping she’ll drop it.
“What do you mean?” Her tone is soft, curious. “Like, what are they up to? What do they do for a living? We spend a lot of time together, and you know practically everyone in my family; it only seems fair I know something about yours.”
I huff out a short breath. There’s something almost innocent in the way she says it. She can’t picture a world where parents wouldn’t be there for their child. However, I know better.
“My dad’s an engineer,” I start. “Back home. He works long hours. He kinda always has. I can’t even be mad at him since it’s mostly to pay for my education, although I’ve told him a hundred times I can figure it out myself.”
She is quiet beside me.
“He’s a good guy,” I add. “We talk every other Sunday.”
“What about your mom?” she asks, careful, but not letting it go.
