Page 70 of The Design of Goodbye
I laughed. “Wet?”
“No,” he said, voice soft. “Down. I didn’t realize how long it is. It’s always in that twisty thing.”
“You mean a braid?” I ran my fingers through my hair, his gaze following my hand. “I stopped wearing it down because it reminded me too much of my mom. We have the same hair.”
“It looks nice.”
My cheeks felt hot. I was definitely blushing. With my pale skin, he probably noticed. The butterflies were back, and for the first time, I didn’t want them to go away.
“Maybe I’ll wear it down more often.”
He leaned against the island and gave me one of his soft smiles. The dim light from the kitchen illuminated behind him, casting all these amazing shadows and angles and lines on his face, and I couldn’t stop staring. At his messy wet hair, at his still-damp skin, at his lips.
I didn’t think Liam Strom was cute—I thought he was attractive.
And I wanted him to kiss me.
I bet his lips tasted of mint—like Christmas—and in that moment, I wanted to taste him more than I’d ever wanted anything.Anything.
“Your food,” I said quickly, stumbling a little because the thought of kissing him made my knees weak. “It’s done. You can sit down.”
He sat down, and I set the chili and bread I’d buttered earlier in front of him. He was already demolishing the food by the time I asked, “Do you want something to drink?”
“Water,” he said, through a mouthful of bread he’d dunked in the chili, “if you have some.”
“Too bad. We’re completely out.”
We both laughed, and it broke my spell of awkwardness. But it didn’t change how I felt. I got his water and two more slices of bread and sat across from him.
Then I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.
How had I not noticed how perfect they were? And why did they have to be? This was Liam Strom—I couldn’t kiss him. Being—maybe—friends with him was dangerous enough.
Kissing him would destroy me.
“Why were you going to the gas station for dinner?” I asked when he was almost done eating. “Don’t you normally go home after Gary’s?”
“Normally.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
He ate the last of his chili, stalling.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Yes.” He set his spoon in his empty bowl. “I owe it to you, since, otherwise, I’d probably still be out there looking for my glasses.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
He covered his mouth and yawned. “I couldn’t get into my house.”
“Did you lose your key?”
“Not exactly.” He yawned again before resting his cheek against the palm of his hand. Eyes glazed over, he stared at me.
“What does that mean? Seriously, Liam—”
Head nodding forward, his eyes momentarily closed, and he almost knocked over his water. Shaking his head to wake himself up, he said, “Sorry.”
