Page 55 of Wish For Me

“We spend a lot of time together,” I say, trying not to voice my surprise that he’s being so open. “And it usually gets somewhat silly, yeah.”

“Hmm.”

He doesn’t say anything else for a long moment, but the silence isn’t so jarring this time. Maybe it’s because I can hear the sound of his steady breaths, right next to me. It’s hard to feel too scared with Peter sitting there.

“How did you make all those flowers in one week?” He finally asks. “You must have been working non-stop.”

“Oh, um. No. I didn’t make them this week. I brought them here from home. I’ve been working on them for a while.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly picking up on my discomfort. “I thought the wedding getting moved here was pretty sudden. Why did you bring the flowers here with you for Christmas if you were going to use them on the cake in Napa?”

“I didn’t bring them for Christmas.”

He waits for me to continue, and I sigh, knowing he’s going to give me shit. “I flew back to LA the day after Christmas to pack them up and bring them here.”

“Seriously?”

“Come on, you’re not actually surprised.”

He starts to laugh. “No, I guess I’m not.”

“I packed them all in a box and held it in my lap the whole way here. I don’t think I moved once the entire flight, I was so scared they were going to break.”

He’s laughing harder now. “Of course you did. You couldn’t have just made some this week because then you wouldn’t have a ridiculous amount.”

“Well it wouldn’t really be a Vega Ransome cake if it wasn’t a little bit extra, would it?” I ask, laughing too.

But then I stop laughing—I stop breathing. Because all of a sudden, Peter is leaning towards me, his eyes on my mouth. Before I can say a word, before I can even move, his lips are pressing into mine and oh my god,I’m kissing my archenemy.

His hands come up to frame my face and I find myself clinging to his shirt. One of us moans—I think it might be me—and then Peter is pulling me closer, his movements almost rough as he grips my waist and presses me against him, deepening the kiss.

I don’t know why I’m allowing this to happen. I should push him away, I should slap his face. I should definitely not be opening my freaking mouth or making that breathy gasping noise.

He tastes like vanilla and cardamon and the hands gripping me are strong from all that time in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure I would be happy to just do this for the foreseeable future, which makes no sense because I don’t even like this guy.

But I like kissing him. A lot.

Suddenly, the elevator gives a shudder. For one crazy second, I think it’s the earth moving under our feet—the kiss really is that good—but then a disembodied voice comes from the speaker, telling us that the fire crew has arrived and they’ll have us out momentarily.

I pull away, staring at him. We’re both breathing heavily. Peter’s cheeks are flushed. I don’t know why that gets to me so much. It makes him look younger, maybe, more boyish. A little vulnerable. I want nothing more than to pull him close and give him a little snuggle.

Which makes no sense!

“We hate each other,” I whisper.

Peter’s eyes flash but he doesn’t say anything. And then the elevator is descending. Before I can even wrap my mind around what just happened, the doors open on the lobby, a crowd of firefighters standing there.

Peter jumps up. He doesn’t help me to my feet. The firefighters question him, checking that we’re both okay, while I stand, my movements feeling slow and heavy. What in the hell just happened?

“Here,” Peter says, pushing something into my hand. I look down and see that it’s a roll of wire. Right. The thing we went up to his room for in the first place.

By the time I get myself together enough to look up, he’s already walking away. He’s almost to the staircase when I call after him. He stops, but doesn’t turn around.

“Will I…I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

It feels like a very long time before he answers. Finally, he turns, looking over his shoulder, and our eyes meet. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but his voice comes out soft when he says, “yeah, Vega. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then he’s slipping through the door to the stairwell, leaving me alone with the fire crew, wondering what in the hell just happened.