Page 126 of Lose You Twice

Kai is still standing close enough that I can feel him. Not touching. Waiting.

Always waiting now.

It makes me brave in the worst way.

I turn back and rise on my toes. He meets me halfway.

The kiss is nothing like the one in the laundry room. It’s brief. Soft. A brush of his mouth over mine that still manages to knock the air from my lungs. His hand doesn’t go to my hair this time. It hovers near my waist, then settles lightly against the car door beside me instead.

I pull back first because if I don’t, I won’t.

Kai’s eyes stay closed for a fraction of a second after mine open.

My chest goes painfully tight.

“Still a bad idea,” I whisper.

His mouth curves, barely. “Doesn’t seem so bad to me.”

I breathe out a laugh, open the door, and get into the car before I can do something reckless, like ask him to kiss me again.

Kai waits until my engine starts, then heads for his car.

As I pull out of the lot, his headlights fall in behind mine.

By the time I reach the first red light, my cramps are still bad, my life is still complicated, and nothing about Kai Mercer has become less dangerous.

But for once, letting someone follow doesn’t feel like surrender.

It feels like maybe, for a few miles, I don’t have to be the only person watching for what might go wrong.

19

WREN

For one week, Kai Mercer and I become experts at almost.

Almost touching.

Almost pretending we haven’t kissed. Twice.

Almost pretending we’re normal.

It starts Monday night, when he follows me home from the rink, and I spend the whole drive pretending his headlights in my rearview don’t make me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy, appreciating that someone takes the time to make sure I’m okay.

It gets worse Tuesday, when I find another water bottle and my favorite granola bar waiting beside my clipboard before practice.

Wednesday, he catches me in the hallway outside the equipment room, reaches past me for a roll of black tape, and murmurs, “Feeling better today?”

My whole body reacts to his presence as if his mouth is on my neck.

“A little,” I say, because lying feels pointless when he’s standing close enough to notice my pulse.

His eyes drop there, to the side of my throat. To the traitorous beat giving me away.

“You seem a little excited about something. Better take it easy today,” he says with a wink.

Then he walks into practice and leaves me staring after him like an idiot.