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I pressed up onto my toes, aligning our lips, and Archie leaned in. What began as a feather-light question was answered with certainty, our mouths moving together in a give and take that had my pulse beating furiously as my body demanded more.
My tongue teased at his top lip, and he responded, taking over the kiss and pulling me against him. Everything in me ignited with want, and I tried to listen to the distant voice telling me we’d just met, to take things slow, and that it was more complicated than I was making it seem.
Finally, Archie pulled himself away, his arms extending—holding me still but putting distance between our bodies.
“I—”
“Wow,” I said. I sensed he was on the brink of an apology, and that was the last thing I wanted.
“Yeah.” He met my eyes again, and there was so much smoldering heat there I nearly threw myself at him again. Instead, I stepped back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yes. When you have time.”
“We’re off in the afternoon for a hike or something.”
He nodded.
“I’d rather check out the church if you’re up for it.”
A tiny smile pulled one side of his mouth up and he shoved his hands into his pockets, an action that made him look shy suddenly. “Yeah. I just need to check on some details for the activities, and then we can go when you’re ready.”
“Of course.” It was easy to forget that he was in charge of all this, of everything here. He was the whole reason I was here, in so many ways. “Should I...?”
“I’ll give you my number?” he said, pulling out his phone.
“Yeah, okay.” We exchanged numbers and a text appeared a moment later with a smiling emoji and the word “hi.”
“Got it,” I told him, suddenly feeling uncertain in his presence, awkward and self-conscious. “Good night.”
“Good night, Emily.” He waited while I let myself in, and then turned and headed back down the hallway, glancing over his shoulder once.
I waved and then pulled the door shut.
Everything had just become much more complicated.
Chapter Eight
A Stack. Like Wombats Do.
GHOST
Iwent to bed feeling calmer than I probably should have, given that I’d just blithely wandered across a line I took pretty seriously. I didn’t have enough emotional reserves to promise anything to anyone else, and so I hadn’t. Not in a long time.
Emily was the first woman I’d kissed in . . . years.
My abstinence had only been partially intentional. Immediately after the mishap, there was the investigation and way too much worry and guilt and grief to even imagine dating. And I hadn’t been seeing anyone seriously when it happened. Weird how being gone six or more months at a time makes you less attractive as a date.
And then, in the weeks and months that followed, I was essentially a zombie. I’d lost a friend, so there was the obvious grief. But being responsible for his death was another thing. In some ways I thought it would have been simpler if theinvestigation had found me at fault. It didn’t matter though—I knew it was true, and most people agreed. And that was an entirely different kind of grief.
On top of all of it was the navy’s inability to recover the body, which somehow prevented any of us from getting true closure—not that I was sure I could’ve handled seeing Jake that way. Knowing it was my fault...
Point was, dating was not really something I remembered much about. Kissing either, though that had seemed to go pretty well outside Emily’s room. But in the clear light of morning I wondered at the wisdom of the whole thing. It had been impulsive and really not very smart.
“I got all the Post-Its out for you,” Aubrey told me as I approached the front desk, where she sat, tummy perched on the low counter behind the main desk. “So you won’t have to get all gropey and rude.”
There was a tower of Post-It notes stacked in the center of the desk between the two terminals.
