Page 67 of Light Up My Life

“Jasmine?” he said, his voice low near my ear.

I looked up. His face was millimeters from mine. His eyes moved back and forth between mine, searching for something. My entire body lit up, but I didn’t move. He was hesitating.

“Do you regret last night?” he asked.

I gripped the sides of his shirt. “What? No. Do you?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t sure. You didn’t even smile at me today at school.”

“You didn’t smile at me.”

He chuckled. “You make me nervous, Jasmine.”

“I have no idea why, I—”

Before I could finish, his mouth was on mine. It was warm and sent heat from the back of my neck down to my toes.

“Getting warm is fun,” I said against his lips.

“Winter’s pretty nice,” he said.

“I converted you?” I asked.

“Almost.” He took a breath in through his nose and rested his forehead against mine. “After Christmas…” he started.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Can we each talk to our parents? Tell them we…”

“Have something?”

He chuckled. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” I said in a small voice. I wasn’t sure how I would tell my moms or how they’d take it, but I wanted to.

“Yeah?” Ryan asked, pulling back a little to look in my eyes, like he didn’t trust what he’d heard.

“Yes, I want to.”

“Me too,” he said. His hands moved up and down my back as though trying to heat me up even more. Eventually they stopped and pressed me tighter against him.

Then his lips were back on mine, his hands cupping my face. He tilted my head and deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth, bringing warmth to every corner. I could feel snowflakes on my eyelashes, clinging there. I felt dizzy, giddy.

“You should go inside before you turn into a snow person.” He’d pressed his lips to mine in between each of those words.

I nodded but then pushed onto my toes so our lips met again. He gave me one last kiss, then tucked my hand in his and led me back toward the gate. We passed the shed where he’d stored the ladder the other night.

I pointed at it. “The shed that cemented the feud.”

“What?” Ryan asked, confused.

“You don’t know this story?”

“A story that involves our shed? No.” He turned toward me to listen.

“My moms thought that your parents, or your dad at least, stole the elf made of sticks from our yard. I guess they saw drag lines in the snow and a trail of sticks leading to this very innocent-looking shed.” I smiled up at him. “My grandma made the elf from a tree outside my mom’s childhood home. Very sentimental and all that.”

“And your parents think that my dad stole it?” Ryan asked, his dark brows going down.