12. Gideon #3
People were staring. I didn’t care. Ryan was laughing hard by the time I carried him through the lobby. He had both arms around my neck and his shoes dangling from one hand. I handed the valet ticket over one-handed.
The drive back to his dad’s house was quiet. Good quiet. Ryan curled sideways in the passenger seat, dress gathered around his knees, shoes abandoned on the floor mat, makeup still perfect except for a tiny smudge at the corner of one eye.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Best night ever.”
Something warm opened in my chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He looked out the window. “I was scared. I kept waiting for something awful to happen.”
“One asshole is nothing,” I said.
“Nope, one I can deal with,” he agreed.
I pulled up outside his house. The porch light was on. Neither of us moved as the truck engine ticked.
“I should go in,” he said, seeming suddenly shy. “I had a really good time, Gids.”
“Me too.”
I looked at him. He looked at me. And there it was, the thing we’d almost done beside a breakfast buffet, the thing I’d wanted to do at the noodle place, the thing I’d thought about far more often than I was willing to admit.
“Can I kiss you?” I asked.
His breath caught. “Please.”
I leaned across slowly. Plenty of time for him to change his mind.
He didn’t. Ryan met me halfway, and the first touch of his mouth against mine was soft and warm.
His gloss tasted subtly sweet. I had one hand braced against the console because I didn’t trust myself to touch him without turning one kiss into everything I’d been thinking about for weeks.
Ryan kissed me again, a little firmer. My hand came up without me thinking, stopping before I reached his face.
He saw it. “Please touch me.”
I cupped his cheek. Ryan leaned into my palm, then kissed me properly.
Fuck. Every thought I had disappeared. His fingers caught the front of my shirt, holding me there.
I kissed him back carefully, holding myself in check for all of three seconds before restraint became impossible and I gave him everything.
His mouth opened, and something low and hungry woke up inside me that had absolutely nothing to do with grief or hockey or depression or anything else I’d spent years letting define me. This was Ryan. I wanted Ryan.
He made a small sound against my mouth. I pulled back, not far. His eyes opened slowly. Blue glitter. Smudged eyeliner. Gloss definitely ruined. Beautiful.
“Was that okay?” I asked. My kissing experience was limited to almost nothing.
Ryan stared at me. “Gids, you can’t kiss someone like that and then ask if it was okay.”
My stomach dropped. “Shit. Sorry.” Fuck. I knew I’d fucked up. Maybe I should have taken people up on their offers of kisses and more when they’d hit on me in the past. Then I wouldn’t be such a helpless fucking idiot.
“No!” Ryan grabbed my lapel when I moved back. “I mean, it was more than okay. It was…” He exhaled. “Really fucking okay.”
I smiled with relief. “So did I pass?”
He rocked his hand side to side. “We need more practice.”
“Okay.”
“Lots.”
“I can do that.”
Ryan leaned in and kissed me again, shorter this time, tender. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine. “Best date ever,” he whispered.
“Best date ever.”
I went around the truck and held out my hand. Ryan took it without hesitation. We crossed the short path together. He’d put his shoes back on for the walk from the truck, although judging by the way he leaned into me every few steps, his feet were hurting.
The closer we got to the porch, the slower we seemed to move, and at the bottom step, Ryan stopped.
His mouth twitched. “This is me.”
“I know.”
Under the porch light, I could see all the damage I’d done to his gloss. The dark color faded at the center of his mouth, and a tiny scatter of glitter still clung beside one eye. His hair had loosened during the night too, a few red strands falling around his face.
He looked tired. Happy. Beautiful.
“I had a really good time,” he said quietly.
I should probably have said goodnight. Instead, I touched his hand. Ryan looked down at our fingers then back up at me.
“One more kiss?” I asked.
His smile came slowly. “One more.”
There was no fumbling across the truck console, no surprise at finally getting what I’d wanted for weeks.
Just Ryan’s mouth warm against mine, his fingers curling into the front of my jacket while I rested one hand lightly at his waist. The kiss lasted longer than either of us probably meant it to.
When we separated, Ryan kept hold of my jacket.
“Does this mean I get to call you my boyfriend now?” he asked.
I smiled. “I thought I already was.”
“Good answer, Gids.”
One more kiss and he opened the door. “Night.” He glanced back and then shut it on me.
I sat in my truck for a while staring at the closed door.
My lips tasted of Ryan. There was gloss on my mouth, my suit was wrinkled, and some asshole was probably going to complain about me tomorrow.
But I was smiling, and I drove home that way.