Page 79 of The Plus-One List

He is saying yes too.

He is saying Yes.

I give a tiny cry and lean into him, my lips parting, my hand coming to cradle his face, to pull him closer. I finally—finally!—get to sink my fingers into his thick dark hair. It’s coarser than I expected and tickles my knuckles. I am filled with sensations, discovering nerve endings I never knew I had. Every pore and particle of me opens for him like a flower to the sun.

Our kiss deepens. His mouth is so warm and rich. He tastes like whiskey and oranges.

I never want this moment to end. I want to curl up and live here forever.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing heavily. He leans his forehead against mine, dimples flashing. I’m smiling too, a smile so big and wide, it’s a wonder my cheeks don’t crack. I don’t want to lose contact with him. Every place he touches me is a tiny miracle. His forehead pressing against mine, my knee against his thigh, his arm around my back. Every touch is sacred. I reach up to grip the neck of his sweater, keeping him here, anchored to me. He rests his hand on mine, as if to say I’m not going anywhere.

My eyes dart to his mouth. I’m drunk on his kiss. I want more.

He chuckles hoarsely and sparkles burst between my legs and scatter across my thighs.

He kisses my temple and shifts to tuck me into the crook of his arm. His lips press into the crown of my head. My body is still humming, but in an entirely different way than it was just moments earlier. I settle in beside him as he picks up his drink. I pop a fry in my mouth and chew.

I am comfortable. This is the most comfortable position that has ever existed for anyone, ever. I’m sure of it. There is no cozier spot in the world than right here in the crook of Agustín Martinez’s arm, in one of the coolest bars I’ve ever been to.

It suddenly occurs to me that we just had our first kiss in public. Which is wow, not even close to my style. I mean, I don’t know what my style is besides being a little sweaty and always on the verge of a panic attack. But it feels like a bubble has surrounded us. Like a weight has been released. He wanted to kiss me too. I wonder if he’s wanted to kiss me this whole time, the way I’ve wanted to kiss him.

I could ask but I don’t want to break the mood with silly words that I wouldn’t get right anyway. I want to surround myself in his scent, feel the scratchy material of his sweater against my cheek, sip my smoky apricot drink, munch some fries, and people watch. I want to absorb each and every detail of this most perfect of all nights.

The events for this week, the travel, even the wedding … it all feels so far away right now. Like this whole trip was really made for this moment.

For that kiss.

35Agustín

I was right—Eloise does fit perfectly in the crook of my arm.

I feel like I’m floating, like my bones have become puffs of air. I can’t feel the cushioned bench beneath me or the glass in my hand. Nothing except the spot where her head rests. Nothing but the ghost of her lips on mine.

I’m tumbling into an abyss. I’m falling without a safety net.

Eloise shifts against me, and I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in, feeling her curls, like silken tendrils, against my cheek.

All the tension of the day has dissolved, and even though the sun has long set, it feels like a sunrise has broken over us.

People filter in and out of the bar. We sip our drinks and don’t speak. There’s nothing to say—our words are the press of a hand, the curve of a finger, the stroke of a lock of hair. Her palm against my knee. My arm around her shoulders. The steady rise and fall of our chests.

Her phone suddenly lights up on the table. We both glance at it.

Rachel: So the hotel says they can have another room available but not for two more days. Is that okay?? Can you handle two days sharing with him?

I wait for her response, wondering if this will thread a line of tension between us. Instead, she turns her face up to me, her gaze glittering in the candlelight. She reaches up to brush her fingers against my jaw, her touch playing a nocturne over my skin. The smattering of golden freckles over her nose are like tiny stars. She is so beautiful. When she tilts her mouth toward mine, I gladly slant my lips over hers. She tastes smoky and sweet, her lips warm and soft. I feel a wild thrill run through me, that I get to be the one to hold her, to touch her so intimately, to experience the heady bliss of her kisses. I cup her face in my hand, my fingers stroking the length of her neck. She makes a tiny moan that sets my groin aching. I have to control myself. I need to go at her pace.

When she pulls away, she’s smiling, her cheeks flushed, her eyes alight like green flames.

She picks up her phone.

Eloise: It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.

Rachel: You sure?

Eloise: Yup.

Three dots appear, then disappear, then appear again.