14. Ty #2
It’s tender at first. Easy. Testing. Because unlike the first kiss we shared, I want to get this one right. Her breath catches again, warm against my mouth, and for half a second she hesitates—like she’s catching up to what’s happening.
Then she leans in, deepening the kiss. It’s not rushed, not messy—but sensual and certain. Like we’ve both decided at the same time to stop pretending and be in the moment.
My hand stays at her hair, thumb brushing lightly near her temple, grounding myself in something real, something steady.
She shifts closer, her hand finding my arm, then my shoulder, like she needs something to hold on to.
I feel that, too. I feel all of it.
The way the world narrows down to this, to us—her, the quiet of the alley, the warmth of her mouth against mine. No noise. No distraction. My hands glide to her waist so I can pull her in closer, tighter to my body.
I pull back slightly, not far, but enough to look at her. Her eyes are still half-lidded, a little dazed, like she’s trying to recalibrate. And I get that. I am, too.
“Still think I’m messing with you?” I ask, voice low.
“No,” she says, a little breathless, “that felt real.”
I nod once. “Good.”
Because it was.
She exhales softly, still close, her hand resting against my shoulder like she hasn’t quite decided what to do with it yet.
Out on the street, a dog barks. Someone calls for their kids. A car door slams.
Everything keeps moving. But inside this space we’ve made our own, it’s the opposite. Just us being perfectly still as if any kind of movement will break the spell.
Her gaze lifts to mine, something lighter slipping in. “Well,” she says, voice steadier now, “that’s a whole changeup in strategy.”
My mouth tilts. “How so?”
She gestures between us. “First time, I walked up to you. Took matters into my own hands.”
“I remember,” I say. “But, you were using it to your advantage.”
“Well, and now?” Her brows lift. “You’re dragging me into alleyways.”
“Improvising.”
She laughs “Or payback.”
I study her for a second, then ask, “How would you want it?”
She cocks her head to one side. “Want what?”
“A kiss,” I say. “If it were up to you.”
Her lips part, surprise flickering across her face. Then she tilts her head slightly, considering.
“You wouldn’t rush,” she says.
I shift closer, closing the space between us by inches, not all at once. I do the opposite of rushing, in fact, dragging out the time it takes for me to adjust myself so I’m firmly in her orbit.
Her breath changes. “And you’d…look at me first,” she adds, quieter now. “Like you meant it.”
I hold her gaze, steady and deliberate, and she swallows. A quick count to ten with a one-one-hundred, two-one-hundred cadence until I get there.
“And maybe,” she continues, voice softer once I do, “you’d touch me first—lightly. Slowly drag your fingertips across my arm.”
I keep my eyes locked on hers as my hand lifts, brushing another strand of hair away from her face. I wait a second before I move my hand to her wrist, and do exactly as she’s told me she wants it done.
She inhales sharply.
“And then?” I murmur.
Her eyes flick down, then back up. “Then you’d kiss me.”
So I do and there’s no hesitation. She meets me halfway, her hand sliding higher on my shoulder, gripping me as she pulls me in. The kiss settles into something sure, unhurried but full, like we’ve both stopped second-guessing it.
My hand moves to her waist, drawing her closer until there’s no gap left between us. She presses in like this isn’t new. Like we’ve been doing this forever.
From the street, the noise dulls into the background—present, but distant. All of my attention narrows to her. The warmth of her mouth, the way she responds without pulling away.
And I don’t want the moment to end. Ever.
One of the side doors lining the alley flies open. I barely register the sound before it’s too late.
“—and if he thinks I’m taking that bin out again—” A man steps out, back to us, dragging a trash can behind him.
We break apart instantly. Like we’ve been caught doing something we absolutely were doing, but forgot we ducked into an alleyway by someone’s home. Whoops.
Vivian’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide for half a second before she starts laughing. Full, breathless laughter she’s clearly trying—and failing—to hold in.
“Oh my—” she chokes out, turning slightly away, pressing her fingers harder over her lips like that might help. It doesn’t.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling once, trying to settle my nervous system as the guy turns around. He sees us and pauses. He looks between us, then the alley, then back at us again.
“Right,” he says slowly, like he’s piecing it together in real time.
“Sorry,” Vivian manages, still laughing, which is not helping our case.
“Yeah,” I add, because that feels necessary. “Didn’t realize—”
“No, no,” he cuts in, waving a hand. “You’re good. I mean. It’s a free country.”
He grabs the bin, gives us one last look that's a mix of half amused, half confused, and disappears back inside, the door shutting a little harder than it needs to.
Vivian’s still laughing, though it’s quieter, tapering off as she leans slightly into the wall, shaking her head.
“I cannot believe that just happened,” she says, breathless.
I watch her for a second. The way her eyes are still bright. The way she’s trying to pull herself together and not quite managing it. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.
She glances up at me, still smiling. “Your alley strategy could use some work.”
“I’ll take that on board for next time.”
Her brows lift slightly. “Next time?”
I hold her gaze. “Find a spot with less foot traffic.”
That gets a small laugh out of her. “Planning ahead already?”
“Seems smart.”
Her grin softens, just a little. The space between us shifts again and I take it as my sign to shuffle my feet and take a step back.
“We should probably—” she starts.
“Yeah.”
Neither of us moves.
There’s another beat. She drops her hand from her mouth, her fingers brushing briefly against mine as she does. I can tell that wasn’t accidental. Not entirely. And something about the way she’s looking at me now... It’s less surprised. More certain.
She studies me for a second, like she’s deciding something. Then she turns, opening the alleyway gate and stepping back onto the street.
I follow her, back into reality—sunlight, noise, people moving past like nothing happened. Except for us, something did.
Whatever this is now, there’s no pretending that it’s nothing.
Not when I feel like it could be everything.