Page 50 of The Overtime Persuasive

I can see the joke forming. Her tell is the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth, followed by the breath she draws before delivering whatever line will put everything safely back where it belongs.

“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Make this smaller because you don’t know what to do with it.”

Her jaw flops open, and for once, she has no quick answer.

A raindrop lands on my forehead. Another catches in Eva’s hair, darkening one golden strand beside her cheek.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she admits.

“I’m not asking you to say anything.”

“Then what are you⁠—”

“I’m not.” My eyes move over her face. “I’m telling you that you don’t have to do that with me. I was just vulnerable with you, now in some circles and parts of society, it’s implied that you can do it with me too.”

The rain begins in earnest, tapping leaves above us and dotting the sidewalk like stippling around our feet, yet Eva continues to stare at me.

“What am I supposed to do instead?” she asks.

“Whatever you actually want.”

For a suspended moment, neither of us moves. Rain catches on her lashes, tiny drops flashing beneath the porch lights as the sky opens up around us. She doesn’t look away; instead, she only stands there with her hand still threaded through mine, staring at me as if she’s deciding whether to trust the answer I gave her.

Then her gaze drops to my mouth.

My breath catches, and I’m suddenly afraid to take another one. Afraid the smallest movement might break whatever is happening between us before I find out what she’s going to do.

She takes a step closer.

Her free hand closes around the front of my coat, gathering the fabric into her fist. She closes the last part of the distance between us by pulling me toward her and kissing me.

For one ridiculous second, I don’t move a single inch. Not because I don’t want this. God, no. I’ve wanted it for so long that reality needs a second to catch up. I don’t move because, after years of Eva keeping me at a careful distance, I need time to process that she’s the one who is closing it.

I want to go down an overthinking rabbit hole for this moment. Then her lips shift against mine, and the second is over. She pulls away, her eyes wide and in shock as her hand flies to her mouth.

“Oh, Liam,” she begins, “What did I do? I don’t know what came over me⁠—”

“I do,” I mutter, cupping the side of her face and letting my thumb slide slowly across her cheek. I pull her back tightly into my body and hold her close, slanting my mouth across hers and letting myself enjoy the moment. Enjoy the feeling of her, and the taste of her lips.

She makes a soft sound in her throat and rises onto her toes, her hand gripping my waist. She moans, and the rain falls harder, cold drops sliding down my neck, but her mouth is warm, and I can’t bring myself to care that we’re standing in the middle of a sidewalk. Let it rain.

Eva pulls back first. Her eyes open slowly, staying on mine.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Oh, wow.”

My thumb moves along her cheek, catching a raindrop before it reaches her jaw as the sky opens, the deluge coming in fast and furious now. Eva laughs as rain pours through the branches, soaking us within seconds.

I catch her hand. “Come on.”

The closest shelter is a recessed doorway beneath the narrow awning of a darkened shop. I pull her toward it, and we duck out of the rain, both of us breathless by the time we reach cover.

Eva pushes wet hair away from her face. “Well, that was subtle.”

I should laugh. Instead, I look at her standing there in the dim doorway, her lips still parted from kissing me.