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It was nice being able to lean on the man I was with, assured I wasn’t bothering him or making him uncomfortable.
We took our drinks from Bea with a thank you. It didn’t get past me that Miles had slipped a fifty in her tip jar, nor did I miss her grabbing it and stuffing it in her bra.
“Come, let’s actually look at the art.” Miles pressed my back with his palm, guiding me to the edges of the room.
We stopped in front of a mural that reminded me of the spinny art I used to do as a kid. There was a red dot next to the nametag, indicating someone had actually purchased it. I would have never claimed to be an expert on art, but I couldn’t see any possible reason this thing was worth the hefty price attached to it.
Miles brushed my hair aside and dipped to put his lips next to my lobe. “This looks like it was made with a spin art kit.”
I tried to hold my laugh in. I’d hate for the artist to overhear, not to mention all the people we were trying to impress tonight.
“Shut up, Miles.”
“Tell me you weren’t thinking it.”
I heaved a sigh and twisted so my front was brushing his. “Of course I was. I loved making spin art. Though…I don’t think a canvas this size would have fit in my little machine.”
“Chances are, you’re right. I bet this guy built his own.”
“His own machine?”
“Mmmhmm. For that, I add two points.”
Miles carried on discussing his rating system, and I listened as we walked from piece to piece. When my glass was empty, he plucked it from my hand and set it down on a table with other discarded dishes.
I scanned the space, catching sight of a familiar head of chocolate brown hair above the crowd. Andy had always been a head taller than everyone else. Leave it to him to stick out like a sore thumb and make his presence known.
Warm fingers cupped my face, turning my head until we were almost nose to nose. “What are you looking at, Daisy-daze? You feel okay?”
“My ex is here. I didn’t think he’d be in a place like this.”
Miles turned, scanning the crowd. “The guy in the green button-down?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at what he was wearing. Is he with someone?”
It felt like a hundred years passed before he answered.
“Uh, I think so. He’s holding hands with a blonde—”
“Fuck,” I whispered. “Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t, I—”
His thumbs stroked my cheeks and the corners of my mouth. “They’re going to pass right by us. No way for us to escape.”
Reaching up, I clutched his wrists, panic making my heart gallop. I’d thought about this moment many times, but it was always a year or two in the future when I had my shit together, was leading some fabulous life, Andy a distant memory. This was way too soon. Two months wasn’t enough time for me to be able to play it cool.
“Hide me, Miles. I’m not ready to see him. Please.”
His eyes darted to the side then back, bouncing between mine with indecision.
“Please, Miles.”
He exhaled, his thumbs pressing the sides of my mouth. “All right. Fuck it. I’m going to kiss you now.”
He only gave me a second to inhale before his warm lips were on mine. I froze, my brain and limbs offline, then his lips moved over mine, gently slotting between them, and I awoke. My body moved into his on instinct, grasping his shoulders to bring us closer.
Firm, leisurely presses of his lips made my toes curl in my booties. I leaned in for more. It was easy to forget the reason we were doing this and fall into the sweetest kiss I’d ever experienced.
My lips parted ever so slightly, and our tongues met, tip to tip. We both tasted like lemonade, like summer and home. Miles groaned, his fingers slipping into my hair. I chased his lips and tongue, nipping and sucking before he came back with a firm press, taking my breath away.
