She nods and shakes Tommy’s arm.

“Stay awake, buddy!” I yell, knowing full well how ridiculous this might seem to her.

After a minute, she turns back around and faces the windshield. “I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s out.”

“It’s okay. He should be worn out. It was a big day for him.”

“So what do we do?”

“I normally just drive around or park somewhere until he wakes up on his own but I can drop you home first.”

“Or not,” she says quietly. “I don’t mind driving around. Or parking.”

I drive to the half-court and park in the middle. Normally I’d crack a window and skate close enough to the car that I’d still be able to see or hear Tommy. But for obvious reasons I choose to stay in the truck this time.

After switching off the engine, I turn to her. “Thanks for coming out today. He was really excited to ask you and I know you haven’t really been out much since…” I trail off.

She shrugs and takes out her camera from the bag sitting on the seat between us. Then switches on the screen at the back and starts flipping through pictures.

“Is it because you don’t know the area well or something? Because I can show you around if you want.”

She shakes her head, her eyes still focused on the camera.

I thought, or at least hoped, that after what happened yesterday and the time we’d spent together today, that she’d at least talk to me—maybe give up a little more of herself. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’d hoped a little too hard. I rest back in my seat and let the disappointment wash through me. I hear the unbuckling of her seatbelt and face her just in time to see her move to the middle of the seat. She smiles as she leans into me, her arm touching mine as she lifts the camera and shows me the picture on the screen.

It’s of Tommy—his face covered in dirt mixed with sweat and his smile from ear to ear. Probably the same as mine is right now. “When did you take this?”

“Wednesday,” she says quietly, then clears her throat. “There’s a whole bunch of them.” She leans even closer into me, so close her chest is against my arm and I panic. I move my arm and settle it on top of the seat behind her. She starts flipping through the pictures quickly and I take in every one. Then she gets to a bunch of close ups of her and Tommy. “Wait.” I cover her hand. “Go back.”

“Here.” She hands me the camera and somehow moves closer again. Now her forearm is on my leg and I can feel her warm breaths against my chest. I do my best to hide the shakiness of my hand and slowly flip through the pictures of her and Tommy. They’ve been taken outside. I can tell because her eyes are brighter—and, yeah, it doesn’t escape me that I pay way too much attention to her eyes.

I pause on one of them sitting on the porch steps. I can see her arm extended, taking the shot as she looks right at the lens… but Tommy’s looking at her, his eyes shut tight and his nose against her cheek. The next one has him kissing her cheek, her nose scrunched a little but her smile wide. I swallow loudly, my heart thumping against my chest. My thumb traces over the picture while I take in every single detail of it—mentally burning the image in my mind. There’s an ache in my chest, not from the beating of my heart, but from the breaking. Still, for some reason, I want more of whatever is causing the pain. “Can I get a copy of these?”

She doesn’t respond but I can feel her shifting next to me. The warmth caused by her breaths leaves my chest and returns a moment later, only now it’s against my neck and my eyes close when I feel her exhale softly against my skin, then hear her inhale through her nose, sniffing me. I’m about to back away from her but her hand moves to my nape, keeping me with her. She runs her fingers through my hair and I keep my eyes closed; goose bumps pricking my entire body. I wonder if she can feel it. If the hairs on the back of my neck tickle her fingers as her hand moves down and her face moves up and she kisses right under my ear and I swear to God everything stops. Everything.

My breath.

Her hands.

My heart.

Her lips.

My world.

Everything.

Stops.

Then she exhales.

And my eyes snap open.

She whispers, “You smell so good.”

And everything starts again.

Everything.

Only this time, it’s amplified.

My breaths.

Her touch.

My pulse.

Her kiss.

Because she’s kissing me.

From my neck to my jaw, and I meet her half way—but the second my mouth is on hers and the softness and the warmth of her lips invade all my senses, I freeze. I sit there, my mouth on the hottest girl I’ve ever and possibly will ever see and I choke.

Literally choke.

I cough into her mouth and she pulls back, her nose scrunched, only for a moment before her eyes widen and she grabs a bottle of water from her bag and I’m thumping my chest, my eyes watering and seriously, fuck my life.

She uncaps the water and hands it to me; the surprise on her face replaced with concern as she slowly rubs my back.

I close my eyes, too embarrassed to face her as I drink and drink and drink like the water is more important than air because in this moment it is.

“Are you okay?” she asks as soon as I’m done.

I burp.

Right in her face.

Fuck, I’m a class act.

“Run, Becca.”

“What?” she says through a chuckle.