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Oh, and also, Eli never got that chance to ask and I never got the chance to say yes.
Eli pulls back slightly, and his startled eyes meet mine just as people in the stands start stomping and shouting, “KISS! KISS! KISS!”
My heart starts thumping again, and a wave of dizziness returns. I wait for the inevitable panic to set in. But it doesn’t.
Instead, I think my adrenal glands are releasing a whole different set of hormones. Ones not related to fight or flight but anticipation. And desire.
I should NOT be thinking about kissing Eli right now.
Not with the anxiety I just moved through, which still lingers around my edges. Or the fact that this isn’t real and a kiss isn’t required.
Also, I am not and have never been a fan of PDA.
So, why is my heart careening wildly with anticipation like some spun top and why are my eyes focused on his lips like they hold the key to unlock the universe’s secrets?
Eli shifts his hold so he’s pretty much curled around me, hiding my face from view. Though there are people on all sides of us, the way he’s positioning me and the way his head is tilted probably makes itlooklike we’re kissing.
I can’t help the surge of disappointment.
“I’m not going to force you to kiss me because of a song,” he murmurs, his lips so very close to where I actually want them. “Not because fans are yelling for it. Not when you look like you’re feeling panicked and unsafe, Bailey.”
His mouth brushes my jaw as he speaks, likely lending even more weight to the appearance of us doing as the people demand. It also makes tendrils of desire unfurl inside me like wisps of smoke from a fire.
I shiver. Eli tightens his hold on me, likely thinking I’m cold or scared—not overloaded with a bright bolt of electric desire. Which is even more potent mixed with what I suspect is a bit of post-stress euphoria.
He again starts to skate toward the tunnel.
“Wait,” I say.
The speakers are still playing “Kiss Me,” and though I think Eli did his best to give an appearance or suggestion of kissing, the crowd is still chanting, unappeased. If they didn’t fully SEE it, it didn’t happen.
And in this moment, held like precious cargo in Eli’s arms, I make a decision. Not because the people are demanding it, though I am well-aware of my people-pleasing tendencies.
No—I want to kiss Eli. Here. Now. Like this, with fear crouching at the door of my mind, nervousness a steady whisper in my blood.
Reaching up to curl my hand around the back of Eli’s neck, I pull him toward me and press my mouth to his.
CHAPTER 12
Eli
She’s… kissing me.
Bailey is kissing me.
Kissing. Me.
And I’m not kissing her back because this shocked me so badly, I am now a statue. A monument whose plaque reads To the Man Who Was Once Kissed Straight into Paralysis.
Thankfully, my frozen state doesn't last. Because the very last thing I want, after all I just put Bailey through, is for her to think I’m rejecting her by not kissing her back.
She just handed me a free pass to the theme park of kissing, and I’m running through the gates.
“Bailey,” I murmur against her mouth as I angle her body higher, closer, tighter against me. “You never stop surprising me.”
“Good. I … surprised me too.”
She lets out a tiny laugh, and I capture the sound as I kiss her again in earnest. Bailey’s lips are soft, her kisses light andplayful, her movements sure. One of her hands tangles in the too-long hair at my neck and her other grasps a fistful of my jersey, holding me captive. Though I am one hundred percent here by choice.
