Page 109 of The Design of Goodbye
I want to kiss you.
Our truth book slipped from his hand.
“Can I?” My voice cracked. I felt dizzy with anticipation, like I might pass out.
He’d apparently lost his ability to speak because all he did was nod. I leaned forward, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips to his.
His lips were cold and slightly chapped from the winter air but perfect. His hand cupped the back of my neck, and I maneuvered onto his lap, gripping fistfuls of his jacket. Our blanket fell to the ground, but I welcomed the chilly air because I was on fire. When his tongue hesitantly swept across my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth to kiss him deeper, everything became an explosion of color.
Finally, finally,finally.
When he pulled away, breathless and cheeks flushed, he asked, “But why?”
“Why?” I took in all of him—a boy who was so amazing and had far exceeded my expectations. A boy I wished could see how amazinghewas. “Because I like you.”
Disbelief crossed his face. Then he grinned. It rivaled the one he’d given me the first night we’d gone to Buzz. Stunned, he pulled some hair loose, fingers threading through my braid. “I like you, too.”
“Good,” I said, those loose strands of hair now framing my face. “Because I want to kiss you more.”
He glanced at my lips. “I definitely want to kiss you more.”
He maneuvered me so I was lying on the couch, and then he hovered over me. The position reminded me of the night he’d chased me with the brownies, but this time, hewasgoing to kiss me.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he confessed. “My turn.”
And then he kissedme.
This time, there was accidental lip biting, teeth clashing against teeth, awkward fumbling, and blinding perfection.
When we finally stopped, gasping and breathless, he asked, “Was that okay?”
“That was better than pumpkin spice lattes and Christmas day.”
He chuckled nervously. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
The kiss had been trembling hands turned into full-body tingling, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. There were certain things that should always remain a secret.
“Kiss me again,” I demanded. “I want more.”
And more is what he gave me.
chapter thirty-seven
“Did youhear that?”
“Hear what?” I asked.
Taylor shot out of her chair and almost tripped on her skirt. The skirt was stunning—a pleated midnight-blue satin with embroidered silver-and-white snowflakes. She leaned through the doorway of The Magic Room and said, “I think I heard someone knock.”
And then I heard it: two loud raps coming from the front door of Invisible Thread.
“Oh no,” I said. “Your mom must’ve accidentally scheduled an appointment.”
Taylor groaned. “Come with me?”
December was notoriously busy for Invisible Thread—we were bombarded with Christmas, wedding, and New Year’s alterations. So, naturally, Bev was a stressed wreck, which made her a little absentminded. At least once during December, we had a customer show up on a Sunday for an appointment, when the shop was supposed to be closed. Bev was normally with us on Sundays and could easily accommodate, but she’d taken today off to attend a tea blending workshop in Detroit.
“Sure,” I said.
