Page 53 of Lessons in Lemonade

“You stole them?” I whisper.

“Stole? That’s a harsh word. Besides, they don’t really have any monetary value.”

A vision of him and his friend climbing trees in the dark makes me giggle.

“Oh my God, what am I going to do with you?” I shake my head.

He doesn’t respond, but my gaze drops to his lips as his smile grows even more. His perfect full, pink lips . . .

“You keep staring at me like that and I’m going to kiss you.” His voice is thick with a longing I’ve not yet heard.

My eyes rise to find his, and my heart thumps hard. He’s serious, and suddenly I can’t think of anything I want more.

As I tighten my legs around his waist, he leans forward so our bodies are flush against each other, and he slowly lowers his head until our lips are centimeters apart. His hair has fallen over his forehead and his breath is warm as it brushes against my skin. He’s giving me a moment to change my mind, but I don’t, and my eyes slip shut as I close the distance between us.

Warmth like I’ve never known before spreads through every nerve ending at this one simple touch, his lips against mine. I’d like to say I’m surprised by the feeling, but I’m not. Secretly I’ve been dreaming of what it would be like to kiss him for a while now, and my curiosity is being satisfied at last.

I know this kiss should be forbidden—after all, friends don’t kiss their friends—but as his lips slowly begin to move against mine, I can’t find it in me to have regrets.

With my weight anchored against the wall, he moves his hands, which tremble slightly, to cradle my face so he can angle me just where he wants me. As our lips part and his tongue dips in to find mine, I hang on tight just before he devours me whole.

Seconds—no, minutes tick by as he takes his time exploring every bit of my mouth. This kiss is euphoric, the best first kiss I’ve ever had, and I become pliable, wanting to be what he wants, what he needs. Over and over he comes back for more, only stopping to catch his breath, until he finally pulls back to rest his forehead against mine.

His eyes are still shut, his long dark lashes lying on top of his cheeks, and beneath his shirt I can feel the fast pace of his heart as mine tries to mimic it. I find it endearing, and I would be lying if I said this moment—him, the flowers, the thoughtfulness, the sweetness, the love for my friend—didn’t put a chink in my very comfortably worn armor.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he says quietly, honestly.

“But we’re just friends,” I reply, not wanting to admit the same. A slight sensation of panic rises in my chest. He’s my friend, and I need him to stay that way.

He pulls back and looks me in eyes. “Are we?”

I don’t answer him, and he doesn’t say anything more on the subject.

He lowers me, and I slide down his body until my feet hit the floor. “I’m going to run home, get cleaned up, and change, but I’ll be back a little later to help you however I can. Okay?”

“Okay.” I give him a small smile, the panic receding as his hand again cradles my face and his thumb rubs back and forth across my cheek.

Bending down, he kisses me one more time, and then he takes a step back. “I’ll see you later,” he says, giving me a wink, and then he’s through the kitchen door and gone.

Holy moly.

What just happened?

Well, actually I know what happened—the best kiss, with my best friend. I clutch my chest as I suddenly feel winded, like I just ran a marathon.

I’m still standing by the wall when Taylor walks in and pops a knowing eyebrow. A blush burns through my cheeks at what she’s very accurately assumed, but I can’t help but think this is already the best day, and the sun isn’t even up.

Sweet broiled grapefruit parfaits

Asparagus and pea soup with parmesan crackers

Fennel and citrus salad with mint

Cornbread eggs benedict

Roasted okra with tomato-glazed shrimp

Seared foie gras with aged gouda grits