He’s quiet for a few moments until he pulls into my driveway behind my Wrangler and throws it in park. “I wasn’t taking her home with me tonight. Nor am I planning to any night soon for that matter.”
“Why?” I ask breathlessly, both wanting and not wanting to know the answer.
He sighs as he opens the driver’s door. He reaches his left hand towards me to help me out of the truck. As I slide over the warm driver’s seat, his right hand snakes around my waist to help guild me down from the truck. I love the feel of one of his hand in mine and the other hand on my hip. I shiver a little, not sure if it’s from the contact or the colder night temperatures.
Though he drops his hand from my waist, he continues to hold my hand as he steers me up my steps towards my front door. I struggle to get my key to fit in the knob, unsure if it’s from effects of the alcohol or the fact that Maddox is so close to me. I can hear him breathing just over my shoulder which makes me realize he’s close. Very close. He reaches down and takes the key from my shaky hand, places the key in the knob and opens my front door for me. I turn to face him, leaning into the door jam, staring into those beautiful chocolate eyes.
“Thank you for bringing me home,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome.”
I stand there like an idiot for a few moments just looking at him. I want to kiss him. I want him to kiss me so bad that my body almost has a physical ache. “Do you know you were my first kiss?” I ask him, not breaking eye contact.
His eyebrow rises with his quizzical look he gives me, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Can’t be true. I heard all about your youthful wild streak from Jake. You gave him many sleepless nights.”
“All rumors. A couple of classmates were each trying to make themselves look cooler than the other one so they made it all up. That day at the river when I was upset and you found me sitting at the edge of the water, I was actually crying because of those rumors and the hurtful things the kids were saying about me at school. I tried to explain to my brothers that the things they were hearing weren’t true, but none of them believed me. So I figured if I tried to come clean at that moment to you that you probably wouldn’t believe me either. I was sixteen and embarrassed that my first kiss was a rumor started by stupid boys trying to look cool.”
He looks down at me, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. Then in an instant, his lips crash down on mine. The kiss is hard and sweet all at once. His tongue traces my bottom lip begging me to open my mouth for him. When I do his tongue plunges into me; ravishing me, making me moan. His hands dive deep in my hair, grabbing a hold of my head and holding me in place as if to keep me from going anywhere. But there is no way I can move at this point or even want to. He tastes a little like alcohol mixed with mint, and it is the most delicious kiss ever. Better than it was seven years ago. Better than it has been in my dreams ever since.
Much sooner than I’m ready for, he pulls away. He is breathing heavy, still holding my head, and gazing deeply into my eyes. I can see the moment he realizes what he has just done. Like a light switch flipped, his eyes change from dark and needy to shocked and worried. He drops his hands like my hair is on fire and backs away from me. I felt the loss instantly, my body craving his touch, his hands to be back on me.
“Have…have a good night, Avery,” he says as he slowly backs down my stairs, still staring into my eyes.
I think I touched my lips at that point, but honestly, I could have just dreamt it. This whole thing feels like a dream. A dream where I watch the man I have a crazy crush on walk away from me after realizing he made a very big mistake. It’s a dream I’m all too familiar with. So, I turn and head into my house, alone. I lock the front door and lean against it as I hear him start his truck and slowly pull away. I drop my clutch purse on the floor and head to the couch, cuddling up with my favorite throw blanket my grandma made me when I moved into this place. I’ve become accustomed to sleeping alone in my queen sized bed, but tonight, it just doesn’t sound or feel right. Silent tears streak down my face as I close my eyes and wait for the alcohol haze to take me away into a deep, and hopefully, dreamless sleep.
*****
There’s no worse feeling than a hangover. You want to crawl under the covers and hide from the world but you smell funky and your stomach rolls like you’re on a fishing boat at high tide. Why in the world did I drink those tequila shots? For someone who doesn’t drink much, shots are my kryptonite. Tequila and I don’t mix. After rolling out of bed and heading towards the kitchen for some water, I conclude that the only way to feel any better is to jump in the shower.