Page 18 of Songs for Libby

He shot his gaze over to me, his jaw tight. “Is that a normal thing?” He asked, his tone slightly mortified.

I vehemently shook my head. “Not at all. I have no idea what was going through his head. He was sad about his sister—it was the anniversary of her death—but it was still completely out of character for him. Anyway,” I waved my hand in the air, trying to reassure him with my nonchalance. “That’s not important. He’s fine and I’d rather not use up my emotional energy talking about him.”

We were at a stoplight and he studied me, the wheels in his head turning, clearly trying to decide if he wanted to say what he was thinking or not.

My body tensed and I faced forward. I was fairly certain I didn’t want to hear his thoughts. People’s opinions of Sean usually occupied one polar opposite or the other. They either considered him a saint or a devil. He was neither.

“The light’s green,” I pointed out.

He faced forward and continued through the intersection. I could see him still thinking about the Sean situation and decided to change the subject myself. “We need boots too,” I blurted.

“What?”

“Cowboy boots. We can’t have hats but not boots. We’ll have to get both.”

“Do you know how much those things cost?”

“No.”

“It’s more than I’m willing to spend.”

“Killjoy.” I folded my arms, pretending to pout.

“Hey,” he said, raising one hand in surrender. “I’m more than happy to go with you and let you pay hundreds of dollars on stuff you won’t wear. I’m not going to stop you.”

“It would be an investment,” I deadpanned.

“An investment in what exactly?”

“Ridiculous life choices.”

“Ah.” The word escaped with a laugh. “Well, in that case, count me in.” He reached over and took my hand, casual as you please, and my ability to banter evaporated.

He held my hand the rest of the drive, steering one-handed like it was no big deal.

When we got to my apartment, he opened the car door for me, once again taking my hand as he walked me to my door. “That was a lot of fun.” I turned to face him, bracing myself for the doorstep scene.

“Yeah, it was.” He reached for my other hand, his gaze fixed on our entwined fingers. “If I try to kiss you, is it going to be awkward?”

My chest swelled in anticipation. Not even the reference to Sean’s disastrous kiss could distract me from the fact that Jonas had pretty much declared his intent to kiss me. “I really hope not,” I answered, my voice more airy than usual.

He gave me a half smile as he looked down at me and slid one hand behind my neck. The kiss he pressed to my mouth was sweet and lingered only a few seconds, but it made my whole body relax. He pressed one more small kiss to my lips before he pulled back, his thumb running along my jaw as he gazed down into my face. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said with a content smile.

My smile bloomed in response and I nodded.

He stepped back, his fingers grazing over my neck and my wrist. I wanted to reach for him again, to keep the feel of his hand in mine. Instead I let my hand drop away and reached for my keys, glancing back for one last look at his adorable face as I unlocked my door and slipped into my apartment.