Page 19 of First Moon

“We probably should.”

Neither of us moved. We started talking about award shows and how nerve-wracking they could be. “The hours it takes the team to put me together is sinful,” I said. “Not to mention the hairspray polluting the environment.”

“You always look stunning. But I like you this way too. No makeup. Hair all a mess.” He leaned in for another kiss.

At twelve-thirty, Jack said, “This is irresponsible. We have big days tomorrow.”

“Wildly irresponsible.”

We kissed again.

At one, I yawned, and he laughed at me.

“That’s it. We’re going to bed,” Jack said.

But somehow we kept talking. At one-thirty, we were both sitting on the floor with our backs against opposite ends of the sofa, a bowl of microwave popcorn between us, talking about songs we loved and songs we wished we’d written. He told me he still got nervous before every show. I told him I was almost always terrified the musicians I worked with would find out I couldn’t read music. He asked me about my friendship with Hunter Sloan, which I described very specially as platonic, because it was. “He just got married. To a romance author. It was the most wonderful thing to watch them fall in love. I wrote a song about it.”

“Play it for me tomorrow?”

“You got it,” I said.

At two in the morning, the words finally ran out.

Or maybe they didn’t run out. Maybe our hearts just got too full to carry any more.

Jack stood and stretched, his T-shirt pulling tight across his chest in a way that made me wish he’d crawl into bed next to me. Instead, we walked upstairs, stopping at the door to my guest room.

“I want to follow you in there, but this is special,” he said. “We can’t do anything to ruin it.”

“Agree.”

We kissed again. My lips were surely swollen.

“I’ll be in the room if you need anything,” Jack said.

“Thank you.”

“And I’ll leave my phone on.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m used to looking after myself,” I said.

“But maybe you could let me look after you a little?”

“That sounds nice.”

He reached for my hand and lifted it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. “Best night ever.”

“Swimming. Bologna quesadillas. Kissing the most handsome man I’ve ever met? I’d say so, yes.”

His grin came slow and devastating, the kind that could sell a million records and maybe break a girl’s common sense clean in half. “Goodnight, pretty girl.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

After brushing my teeth and donning the T-shirt he’d left, which disappointedly smelled of only laundry detergent instead of him. I crawled into bed and fell asleep smiling.

6

JACK