Page 81 of Plotting Summer

“All of them? Are there more than the two I’m aware of?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “No, but those two seem to affect every aspect of my life currently.”

He nods, and his fingers curl into the fabric of my dress. “Considering how much effort it’s taking to not kiss you in front of everyone, I can’t even imagine. And that’s with Heath’s bet on the forefront of my mind.”

My cheeks pink, but I hold his gaze. “The not kissing you right now honestly might be the worst part.” His laugh vibrates in his chest, and I barely resist leaning my head against him to more fully absorb the feel it. “What did Noah need to talk to you about?” I ask, needing to change the subject or risk losing Tristan Heath’s bike.

“Cat Keene.”

I smile. “I thought there was something going on between them.”

“Was being the key word. Poor guy. He’s had a thing for her for a long time.”

“I feel his pain.”

Tristan pins me with a look. “That’s enough of that. I’m already kicking myself for not seeing what was right in front of me this whole time. And for not reaching out to you after Bridget and I broke up.”

“You thought about reaching out to me?

“So many times. Especially once I moved back to Sunset Harbor. Between all the memories of you that being in my old house brought and the fact that Tala and Heath constantly mentioned you… and so did Jane … and your grandma and your mom … and my mom”—he gives a small laugh, shaking his head, and my heart soars thinking about our own little group of haphazardly blatant matchmakers—“I almost did reach out to you. But I'd always talk myself out of it. I hadn't seen you in years, and with how things ended before I left for college—for how I got back together with Bridget that night, for not correcting her when she intentionally said your name wrong…” He blows out a breath, as though his next admission is a painful one. “…for letting you walk away without an apology or explanation. I’d convinced myself you’d want nothing to do with me. Or, if you somehow didn't hate me, you'd wrongly assume you were an afterthought if I attempted to get a hold of you, which is the last thing I'd ever want you to think. So with all of that and how I'd accepted the assistant coaching position in California, I kept dismissing the urge to reach out to you.”

The frown pulling at his lips convinces me to work past my shock at his revelation and respond. “So, what I'm hearing is that I’m not the only one who imagines false reactions for other people and fully convinces myself they’re real?”

Tristan’s frown lessens but doesn’t disappear entirely. “In my defense, those first few times I saw you this summer seemed to confirm my conclusions.”

My heart aches remembering the look of confusion and hurt on his face when I'd abruptly ended those first brief conversations. “I am sorry about that, even if my quick retreats weren't for the reasons you thought.”

“I'm sorry … for everything. Particularly for being so blind.” His gaze sweeps over me. “But I see you now. Every beautiful facet of you.”

If he keeps saying stuff like this, there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep resisting him. Protocol or no protocol. Bet or no bet. “I’ll need to write that line down,” I tease in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood. “My readers will love it.”

His eyes twinkle. “Oh, there’s more where that came from.”

I’m all but staring at his lips now. Actually, I’m staring. He opens his mouth, but I reach up to cover it. Mainly so I can touch his lips, but the moment I do, I realize what a bad idea it is. My resolve to keep things platonic is quickly crumbling. “How about we save those nuggets of inspiration for later when I can fully appreciate them.”

With his lips concealed, he kisses my palm, and I’m glad he still has a hold of me because I might swoon right there. Or throw all caution to the wind and jump attack him.

But Mo’s voice comes over the microphone to close out the dancing, and a loud boom overhead has the collective gaze looking up at the sky. An explosion of golden light sparkles in the darkness a couple hundred feet above us. The suspended lights that have been strung around the stage dim, and the traditional patriotic firework music begins to blare over the speakers.

Another firework whistles and explodes, followed by another. Wide-eyed, I look at Tristan to catch his expression, but his gaze is on me.

“You’re going to miss the fireworks,” I tease.

His mouth quirks into a smile, and he brushes a hair from my face. “I’ve experienced plenty of fireworks today, thanks to you.”

With everyone’s attention on the sky and Tristan’s adoring gaze still on me, I can’t stop myself. Anticipation lifts my stomach, and a sense of reckless abandonment takes over my fear of being discovered. I raise onto my toes and press my lips to Tristan’s. He seems surprised at first, but then his hands come to my face, his palms on my jaws and his fingertips light on my neck. I linger a bit longer than I initially intended. But how can I not? Each kiss with Tristan is new and different, and I want to experience them all for as long as I’m able. And I don’t care who’s watching. I’m done hiding.

He’s smiling when I finally pull away. “Okay, that was definitely worth a month of babysitting. Though it may have broken protocol.”

“Maybe we need to adjust our protocol, then. Or get rid of it altogether.”

“I like the sound of that,” he says, but then genuine concern fills his expression. “But what about people finding out that you’re … ?” He doesn’t finish, probably worried someone might overhear him.

With Tristan’s arms around me, my fears seem to scatter. “At this point, it’s only a matter of time until they do. I might as well come clean while it’s still on my terms.”

He lifts his brow. “You’re going to tell people? Outside of your family?”

I nod, strangely resolved. “Once I tell Grandma and Walker since I didn’t get a chance today.”