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I can’t believe it because it’s too soon.
This time, I groan in frustration as I reluctantly release her nipple. In a form of good-bye, I let the sweet nub drag over my bottom lip before I tug her shirt back into place.
“Wha—”
I cut Holly off with a quick kiss and then sit up, pulling her with me.
Fuck, she’s sexy.
Her short brown hair is all messy, curling around her swollen lips and pink cheeks. Slowly, her eyes come into focus.
My throat needs to be cleared a couple of times before I can talk, “I only planned on kissing you. Got a bit out of hand.”
She stares at me. “So, you really meant, no sex?”
“We haven’t even gone out yet. Like, on an official date.”
Her one eyebrow curves high on her forehead as she leans back on her hands. “An official date? What does that look like?”
I shrug and try to adjust myself without her noticing. “Dinner. Movie. Walk on the beach.”
She smirks and shakes her head. “No. Those are regular dates. I want to know what an official date is. Is there documentation? Do we have to dress all fancy, like prom? Do I get a corsage?”
“Of course. And there’s the photographic evidence. Then, I’ll send you a post-date survey, so you can rate your satisfaction with the experience.” I maintain my best deadpan tone.
Holly giggles and then sighs, letting her eyes wander over me. “I guess I just kind of feel like we’ve been a couple longer than a day. Because we hang out so much. Is that weird?” Confusion flits through her eyes.
She’s right. We might not have been calling it dating, but all those hours spent talking and reading together mean more to me. We’ve had a relationship longer than labels.
“Feels that way to me, too. But I’m still taking it slow with you.”
Holly gives me an exaggerated pout. “So, no more hand-under-the-shirt action? Or mouth under the shirt?”
She’s too tempting. I dip down for another kiss, needing a taste of her sassy mouth. But I pull back before it escalates.
“Not until after our official date.”
21
HOLLY
“You really don’t mind me heading out early?”
When I glance at Pops over my hand of cards, he’s smiling at me. The dark skin around his eyes crinkles with it, and I know I’m done for.
“No, sweetie. I don’t mind. And I believe that’s rummy.”
He sets down his final run, and I glare at him.
“That’s not nice. You’re supposed to let me win. Now, I’m going to be all bummed out on my date.”
“Date?” Pops pauses in the process of gathering up our cards. “I thought you said you’re hanging out with that boy who’s getting your kidney.”
Back when I was in high school, I’d always blush and get defensive when I brought up the idea of me going out with someone to Pops. He’d go quiet and just stare at me for a moment while I fidgeted. Then, he’d tell me to bring the boy by the house, so he could meet him, which I hated because Pops would proceed to stare at the guy until he fidgeted, too. Took me a while to realize my adoptive father was worried about me. That he was just trying to figure out how to be a dad to a teenage girl and how to keep her safe while also letting her have a life.
I think he did a good job. And, anyway, I’ve never been too interested in dating.
So, now, I nod and suppress my urge to shift around in my seat. “Yep. I am.”
