Page 126 of What We Brave
"Ha!" She pokes my chest. "I found one you don't know."
"Enjoy it. Probably won't happen again."
She grins up at me, and something shifts in her expression. Softer. Warmer. The teasing energy settles into something quieter.
"I'm having a really good time," she says.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She squeezes my arm. "Thank you for letting me come."
"Thank you for wanting to."
We stand there for a moment, surrounded by junk and strangers and the smell of old things. Margaret stares up at us from under Laine's arm, dead eyes gleaming.Creepy as fuck. Reid's going to hate it.
Laine rises on her toes and kisses me. Quick. Soft. Just because she can.
My brain short-circuits for a solid three seconds. Just — gone. No thoughts. No self-recrimination. No waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just her lips and the flea market noise and the warmth of her hand on my arm.
That. More of that. For the rest of my life, please.
"Come on," she says. "Let's go find more stuff."
She takes my hand again and pulls me toward the next aisle. I follow, still feeling the ghost of her mouth on mine.
Three weeks.
I'm more in love with her than I know how to handle. And I think — maybe — she's starting to feel something too. She hasn't said so, but the way she's looking at me lately feels different. Like she's not just tolerating my presence or being kind. Like she actually wants me here.
Don't get ahead of yourself. She said she wasn't there yet. She might never be.
I know. I know that. And I told her I could work with honest.
But the way she kissed me just now — unprompted, casual, like it was the most natural thing in the world — that felt like more than "not there yet."
Or you're seeing what you want to see because you're desperate.
Yeah. That too. Probably.
My phone buzzes.
Reid
don't bring home anything big
I'm not helping you carry it
threw my back out last time
man the fuck up
Reid
I'm serious
my back is still weird
Laine
