Page 115 of The Sound Between Us
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
She moves before I finish.
Fists my shirt.
Hauls me inside like she’s just remembered she needs me.
And then she’s kissing me.
No warning. No hesitation. Just mouth on mine—urgent, messy, real.
Nothing like LA.
That kiss was a question.
This one’s an answer.
Weeks of silence, doubt, and white-knuckled restraint collapse in the space between our lips. Her fingers twist in my hair. I hold her face like she’s breakable. Like I already broke her once.
She tastes like red wine and recklessness. Like possibility.
We’re making out in Damon Rogers’ hallway while three generations of oil paintings silently judge us, and for once, I couldn’t care less about optics.
When she finally pulls back, we’re both breathless.
She’s flushed. Hair a mess.
And she’s looking at me like maybe—just maybe—I’m still hers.
“Harry,” she whispers.
That name, from her mouth?
It lands like forgiveness.
“Yeah?” My voice is wrecked.
“You’ve gate-crashed family dinner.”
She’s smiling.
Fingers still tangled in my shirt.
“Should I leave?” I ask, though we both know the answer.
She doesn’t say anything. Just takes my hand and leads me down the hall.
The dining room’s quiet—too quiet.
Which means they heard everything.
Damon’s at the head of the table, trying not to laugh.
Kimba’s halfway to snorting into her wine.
Felix looks like he’s auditioning for a Wes Anderson film.
And Hailey… well. Hailey’s smile could slice through steel.
