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Dean’s eyebrows draw together. “Boring?”
“Yes. And predictable.”
Dean tries to stifle a smile. “You are probably the least predictable person I know.”
I’m too serious to blush. “I mean besides the times I’ve thrown food and drinks of varying viscosity at you.” Or blew in his face, or kicked him in the chest, or ran in front of a moving car, or any of the other embarrassing stuff I’ve done around him that I don’t want to remind him about.
“Hmm.” He considers it when he sees how serious I am. “I think everyone is predictable in their own way to some extent.
But I don’t think you’re predictable in a bad way. What’s going on?”
I fidget in the seat. “I think people think I’m boring.”
His eyebrows raise. “Are you joking?” he asks, and when I only avert my gaze and bite my lip, he continues, “Lor, not one thing about you is boring. Hell, even the way you come up to me isn’t boring,orpredictable.”
I’m silent as I ponder his words. He places his finger under my chin to gently tilt my head up. When our eyes connect and he’s certain I won’t look away, he drops his hand.
“I’ve always thought you were captivating, and I wanted to get to know you better, but the one time I worked up the nerve to talk to you at the gym, you ran from me.”
I remember. I thought he wanted the machine. “Old habits, I guess,” I reply shyly.
He laughs, his blue eyes as intense as ever. “Yeah. But once you stopped running from me and I got to know you, I found out just how amazing you are. You literally saved a girl’s life, Lori. You made snorkeling so much fun, even though you were scared at first.”
“Was not,” I mumble, but he just chuckles since he knows the truth.
“You helped me carry our drunk friends back to the rooms even as we got puked on. You danced on stage at that club like you owned it, even though I know you have stage fright.
Everything we’ve done together was made ten times better with you there. I always look forward to hanging out with you. So no, I don’t think you’re boring; I don’t know how you got that in your head. I think you’re you, and you’re amazing.”
I never expected him to say that. I never expected him to say any of that. Just last week at the gym I was trying and failing to find the confidence to talk to him—to get him to notice me.
And now here he is, saying all these beautiful things about me, telling me I’m amazing and that he enjoys spending time with me.
“You think that even when I run into you and force us both off balance, or when I embarrass myself in front of you?” I breathe, almost not wanting to know the answer.
His smile widens. “Especially then.”
We spent the earlier part of the night with our arms around each other, but I feel closer to him now. I’ve always been myself with Dean—even if that meant being awkward or trying new things or being vulnerable—and he doesn’t find me boring.
“For the record,” I start, “I didn’t run from you because I didn’t want to be near you. In fact, it was the opposite.” My face heats from the admission.
Dean shifts closer to me on the bench, and I’m all too aware of him, of the space he takes up, the heat his body gives off, the blue of his eyes, the beauty of his smile.
“Does that mean you’re not planning on running from me now?” he asks, voice low.
The air thickens, just like it did when we were dancing.
Scared to break the moment, I just shake my head.
He leans closer, slowly, so very slowly, as if giving me a chance to change my mind, to run away. But I stay planted where I am, my eyes pinned to his lips. I’m not going anywhere. I want this; I want him to kiss me more than I’ve ever craved anything. Nothing can make me run away from him this time.
My eyes flutter closed as his lips touch mine, and with that simple brush he sends tingles down my spine, all the way to my toes. He parts his lips to deepen the kiss and my mind empties of everything except the taste of him, the feel of him.
What I thought was tingling before is nothing compared to what his touch is doing to me now. His hands land on my hips, and in a fluid, effortless motion, he slides me closer to him, turning me so more of us is touching. I throw my arms around his shoulders, pulling him even closer to me, wishing we were standing so I could feel the strength of him pressed up against all of me. Not once has any kiss felt like this. No one has ever felt this good against my lips, has ever made my heart pound in my chest this hard. I’ve never felt this good wrapped in someone’s arms before, but with Dean I can stay here forever. My fingers bunch in his hair and a low growl sounds from deep in his throat, making my heart flip. All that time I wasted running away from him when we could’ve been doingthis.
He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine, our lips less than an inch apart as we catch our breath. His fingers tighten on my hips, and I resist the urge to pull his lips back to mine.
“What the fuck?”
