Page 61 of As Long As You'll Have Me
“Thank you for taking me today. I had a lot of fun,” I say as we pull into the parking lot of my building.
“Thank you for coming. I told you it wasn’tominous,” he jokes with a wink.
When he pulls up to the curb, he puts the truck into park and jumps out to get me. I’m perfectly fine to get out on my own but I can tell already that he prefers it this way. When he helps me down, my foot catches on the curb and I start to fall. Catching me, he holds me close and grips my hand a little harder. My free hand is on his other arm as I look up at him, frozen and unable to move.
“I hope I get to go back there sometime soon. I’d like to see Nolan again.” My voice is soft as I speak. Being this close to him is making it hard to form words at all.
“Of course you get to go back. You promised Nolan we would take him to his art lesson, remember?” He dips his head lower.
“Oh, right,” I say and snort out a laugh, embarrassedthat I’d forgotten I said that. Conjuring up any sense of bravery I can manage, I push up on my toes and press a kiss into his cheek. I know I shouldn’t have done it but I wanted to. Needed to. Even though I shouldn’t. “You’re a really good guy, Miles. Thank you for sharing this piece of you with me today.”
His eyes linger on mine for half a beat too long and I panic, thinking I made the completely wrong move. Then, he spins me around and presses my back into his truck, pinning me against it. When I don’t flinch or try to get away, he takes it as his sign to continue. Leaning down, he presses his lips to mine. Slow at first, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll object. Bringing a hand to my waist, he presses into me harder than before and I feel myself melt into his body. I grip at his shirt and let him kiss me harder. Even though I don’t want it to end, to make him stop or sever my connection to him, I push him away gently.
“I have to go,” I whisper as our foreheads press together.
He steps forward, bringing his body flush with mine, our lips gently grazing against one another’s. “I don’t want you to go.”
When he goes to kiss me again, I press my hand into his chest to stop him. “Ihaveto go.”
I bring my eyes to his and look at him above the brim of my glasses. They slipped down my nose while he kissed me and are hanging on for dear life. Just like I’m trying to do with any sense of reason I still have. Taking care of them for me, he pinches the sides of them and props them back up where they belong.
“You have to go.” He sighs, looking defeated. I nod my head.
Moving out of my way, he lets me take a few steps. Ihead for the door to my complex but turn my head over my shoulder to look at him. He hasn’t moved away from where he’s leaning against his truck. He smiles at me as I go and crosses his arms in front of him, forcing his muscles to stretch his shirt almost to the brink. Waving at him, I’m grateful he can’t read my mind.
I have to go.
Not because I want to but because if I don’t, I’d invite him into my apartment and his stupid tight T-shirt wouldn’t stand a chance.
24
MILES
She kissed me.
I kissed her.
Like, a real kiss. Against my truck. And she didn’t seem to hate it. She almost seemed like she wanted it to continue until she pushed away.
Why did she have to push me away?
Taking her to Fresh Start had gone better than I could have imagined. I’m not surprised—she’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. It’s only natural that she fit right in there. I think I fell in love with her watching her with Nolan and the others. How, while I was playing football with some of the kids, I saw her talking with him while he drew in his sketchbook. I don’t think I’ve seen someone light up as much as she did when she got to tell him she had a connection to a local artist he could take lessons with. Sam and Patti have the artist’s number and are going to set everything up as his guardians, but as promised she and I will give him a ride once his lesson has been scheduled.
I replay the day we shared in my mind as I turn another corner. It’s cooled off considerably which makes sense for itbeing early December. My morning runs are more bearable now than they are in the dead of summer when stepping outside feels like you jumped into a swimming pool because of the humidity. Unlike most mornings, I’m not up this early because I’m running away from a nightmare I’d had. I’m up and at it with an extra pep in my step because for the first time since July, I feel like I have something to run towards.
Someoneto run towards.
Looking at my watch, I note that I still have half a mile left until I hit my standard mileage. For once, I managed to sleep in a little later which means the sun is starting to rise over the horizon, making the river ripple with pinks and oranges. The sunrises in this city are something to write home about and getting to witness them as much as I do is something I never take for granted. My feet stop short at the sidewalk when an idea pops into my head and I take a hard left towards a different part of the city. It’s well within the time when normal people begin their day andmost oftenpeople like to start their morning with a cup of coffee. Maybe if I’m lucky, a certain someone would like to go grab a cup of coffee with me before my shift starts at the firehouse.
A little over a mile later, I’m panting heavily outside her building, trying to catch my breath before heading inside. I walk in small circles, trying to collect enough air in my lungs to calm my heart rate after clocking in the last mile in less than ten minutes. Using the bottom of my shirt to wipe my brow, I cringe at the dark splotch of sweat that now stains my shirt.Should have thought through this one a little better.
Finally able to breathe without sounding like my airways are about to collapse, I head into her building and make my way to her apartment. It doesn’t dawn on me that Iprobably should have texted her before just coming by and that she might not even be home until I’ve already knocked on her door. My hand hesitates midair as I try to figure out what to do if she’s not home when the door swings open. When she sees me, her mouth falls into the cutest little O shape. Eyes wide, she gives me a once over before speaking.
“Miles? Is everything okay?”
“Would you like to go get coffee with me?” I ask quickly, my brain barely staying connected after it catches a glimpse at the tiny boxer shorts she’s wearing. They have little peaches on them and must be her pajamas. What is it with this girl and her fruit-themed clothing? She’s got an oversized T-shirt on top with her hair haphazardly tied on the top of her head. A pale pink bandana that matches her shorts holds her blonde locks in place.
An almost awkward chuckle escapes her throat. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you, fireman?”
