by Cassie Mae
I let out a sigh, but it comes out like a growl, and I hate that I’m scaring and confusing her. Words don’t come easy to me when I have to fish them out of the depths of my heart. I tug and pull at them, wanting them to break the surface, but they keep coming out in inarticulate chunks. “Stop.” I pause for a second and add, “Please. Just give me a second to paste together coherent sentences.”
She nods, and the inside of her lips folds in between her teeth. She’s so damn cute, just like that, just how she is. Why in the hell doesn’t she see that?
I scratch at my eyebrow, my hand trembling against my forehead. My jumbled thoughts feel like a Rubik’s Cube, slowly piecing themselves together and then breaking apart before I can complete a solid side.
I try to start from the beginning, from when I started falling for her, but for the life of me, I don’t know when that was. So I pluck a random memory instead.
“You remember the first shift at the mini golf that we worked together?”
Her brow furrows. “We’ve worked a lot of shifts together.”
“That one in particular. It was in September, couple years ago.”
“Doesn’t ring a specific bell.” She pushes a loose strand of her hair into her hat, freeing her face from any frayed strands. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it—perfecting what she considers to be messy or flawed.
“You saw my tattoos for the first time.”
A lightbulb flashes behind her eyes. “Right. And I lectured you non-stop.”
“For a good portion of the shift, yeah.”
“And you hated me so bad.”
I shake my head, grinning at the floor. “The opposite, actually.”
“Yeah right.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling and crosses her arms. “Tolerate isn’t the opposite of hate.”
“I more than tolerated you.” I take a step toward her, shifting the air around us. Her teasing smile fades, and I hear her gulp. Her arms are still crossed, and I reach out for her hand, plucking it from against her and linking our fingers.
The Rubik’s cube in my head finally gets a side completed. I stare down at our joined hands, trying to ignore how shallow her breathing is.
“I like you, Candace.” I let out a breathy chuckle at how high school it sounds, how those words hold so much meaning, but not enough meaning. “A lot.”
She shakes her head, a frown curling her lips downward. “You can’t possibly like me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m annoying as heck. I’m too naïve and too goody-two-shoes for anyone to like me just how I am. Why do you think I went through all the trouble to change?”
Anger bubbles through me, and I try to keep it at bay. “Do I ever say something I don’t mean?”
“All the time.” A laugh breaks through, and I wish I could regret all the teasing I’ve done to her, but I don’t.
“I can’t teach you anymore, because I don’t want you to change.” How can I make myself clear? How can I let her know that I’ve fallen for exactly who she is? “I like your lectures and your rule-following. I like how you can’t stand messes but also hate when things are too clean. I like how you manage to help on a farm without getting dirt on a single item of clothing. I like that you’re kinda tearing up right now.”
She slugs me in the arm with her free hand, then swipes a finger under her watery eye. “What else?” she says, and I laugh.
“You want more?”
“Unless that’s all you’ve got.”
Not in the least. I tap the brim of her hat, pushing it upward so I can get a better look at her face. “I love that you boss me around, demand my attention. I love that you bought my sisters presents. I love that you’re terrified of motorcycles, but you giggle the entire time while we ride. I love how you can be completely yourself around me, how I can be completely myself around you. I love that we’re so wrong for each other on paper, but that I can’t stop thinking about you or wanting to be with you, or the fact that I look forward to work only when I see your name on the schedule.
“I do that, too,” she says, and my brain unravels more, my thoughts getting clearer and clearer. “I rearranged it a lot whenever it didn’t work out.”
“I thought that was just to get more lessons out of me.”
“And to be with you.” Her hand twitches in mine. “I didn’t know it at the time, but the more I think about it… I was totally changing my shifts just to work the same zone as you.”
“Even though your heart was on Zach?” I can’t help but bring him up. I don’t want to be second choice, but with how I’m feeling, second doesn’t feel so bad if I get the girl.
“My focus might’ve been on Zach, but that’s not where my heart was.” Her eyes meet mine, the watery wall still up across her irises. I love that about her, too. “It just took a minute for my brain to catch up.”
“Mine too,” I admit.
“Darn these brains.”
“We should fire them.”
“Or turn them off for a bit.” Her gaze drops to my lips, and she inches her way closer to me, not quite up on her tiptoes yet, but she tilts her head. “Hey, Pete?”
“Hmm?” My brain’s already starting to turn off. Just when I was getting that Rubik’s cube down, too.
“You’re fired.”
I jerk back with a laugh. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I can’t be dating my teacher. That goes against so many rules.” She flips her hair, exaggerating the movement. “And you said you liked my rule following.”
“Guess I’m out of a job.”
“I have nothing against dating co-workers though.”
“What happens if I get promoted?”
“I’ll be promoted way before you.”
I reach out and tickle her side, and she dodges me like she knew all too well it was coming.
“In case you were waiting for me to say it…” she says through her laughter, “I like you, too.” She gives me a giant, teasing grin. “A lot.”
I find her other hand and lock it in mine. “Don’t worry. I won’t make you list a bunch of reasons why.”
She wrinkles her nose, and I close the gap between us, cutting off any argument she may have had for me. I did need to hear it, and now I’ll be on the high of knowing how she feels for the rest of the night.
Candace
The break room door clicks behind me and Pete, and I completely lose all sense and jump on him.
“Oof!” he says between our lips, but I shut him up pretty quickly. Gosh, he’s a killer kisser. I know I teased him earlier, but yeah… I was a hundred percent lying.
His laughter floats between our mouths, and I grin, unable to keep it at bay. The wall presses against my back, and he locks me there with his body, his hands finding my face. Tingles erupt across my skin, and I know it’s not sexy to giggle during a makeout, but that’s exactly what I do.
“Hang on,” he breathes, then does the exact opposite of hanging on, pressing another solid kiss to my lips. “We… should…”
His words get lost when I tap my tongue against his bottom lip, and I swear I hear my brain wave goodbye as it floats into oblivion. Good riddance, I say. It’ll most likely get in the way, and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my night with just my heart running the show.
I hook my fingers into his belt loops, noticing his untucked black shirt. I suppose we’re in the break room, so I don’t tease him about it, instead reeling him in against me. Our bodies bump together, and with each point of contact, a new set of tingles erupt along my skin.
“Candace,” he says, his lips making a new path across my jaw. Oh my wow. Holy mother of wows. How could kisses on my neck be just as amazing as the ones he gives my mouth?
“Uh…” I croak. “Do you need something?” He keeps trying to talk. Pete, this is kissy, smoochy time.
His hot breath cascades along my collarbone, and I think I die right there in my laced up sneakers. “We should probably clock out.”<
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“Huh?”
He pulls away, but I tug on those belt loops, and he crashes back into me. No more pulling back. “Keep your lips here, mister.”
He chuckles and captures my face again, planting a kiss to each corner of my mouth. “Candace, we’re making out on the clock.”
“Mmm…” Yeah, not really registering.
“Let’s clock out and then make out, yeah?”
I pout, and when he takes a step away, my brain plops into place. He’s totally right. This is so against policy, and I can’t believe he’s the one enforcing it.
A smile like Mona Lisa’s curls my lips as he drops each of our cards into the time punch. “Will you say it again?”
He lifts a brow. “Let’s clock out and then make out?”
I shiver, letting my eyes flutter shut. “I think that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
His shoulders shake with his laughter, and he places the time cards into their slots. “Look,” he says, pointing at my card. “I put it in its designated spot, too.”
“Keep talking.”
“You want me to put them in alphabetical order? Zone order? Both?”
I close the gap between us instead, propping up on my tiptoes to reach his mouth. My fingers trail over the scruff along his cheeks, my nails scratching through the prickly strands. He captures my bottom lip and gives it a playful tug, and I crown him the king of all kissers. I don’t care that I’m hardly qualified to judge, considering my lack of experience. He’s the king, and I declare it now.
“Will you pick me up?” I slide my hands to his shoulders. “As much as I love our height difference, my toes might give out soon.”
He sighs like it’s such an inconvenience, and I pinch his nose.
“Be nice, or I won’t do it.”
“Yeah right.” I throw him a cheesy grin. “You like me too much to tell me no.”
His jaw drops in mock shock, and he takes a deliberate step back, crossing his arms. He starts marching farther into the break room, away from me. I shake my head at his back and stand my ground. I know he’ll give in sooner than I will, and sure enough, not two seconds later, he growls, spins on his heel, and reaches for me.
A squeal escapes my throat when his hands grasp just under my butt, and I throw my legs around his middle. I’ve seen this done in paintings, movies, books, and it does not compare to the real life experience. His face is so close, his body so close, we’re just… close. And I feel special being in his arms like this, like when we were on Gertrude, only this time I get to kiss him.
A piece of my hair floats out from my hat, lightly brushing his cheek. I quickly tuck it back, then rip my hat off altogether. I’m off the clock now, so it’s okay.
“If I’d known you’d be so wiggly,” he says through a strained voice, adjusting me on his waist, “I would’ve given this a second thought.”
“Shush. Kissing time.”
“So demanding.”
“You said you liked that about me.” Actually, I think he said he loved that about me. He said love a lot there, and I didn’t have the guts to bring it up then, but I will now.
“Did you notice you started saying love?” I ask, then press a kiss to his forehead, his nose, the apples of his cheeks.
“Huh?”
I snort. Looks like I can turn his brain off, too. “You were saying all these things that you like about me. Then you were saying love.”
His eyes blank out, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow. “Freudian slip.”
I lift a brow. “If that’s your story.”
“Yep, sticking to that.”
He adjusts me again, right as I was diving in for a kiss, so I end up missing by a few inches. We laugh and shake our heads, almost completely in sync with each other.
“Am I too heavy?”
“No.” He’s totally lying. His face is starting to get red, and there’s a vein popping out in his neck. I’m not exactly holding my weight, too comfortable to sit in his arms and let him take the reins. I like that I’m able to fully trust someone like this, not just with my body, but with my heart, my fears, my everything. I think I’ve always trusted him, I just didn’t realize how deeply that went until recently.
“Move me to the couch, then.”
“You’d be okay with that? I mean… you’ll be on top of me.”
“I’m straddling you already, right?” Silly boy. So concerned. But so silly.
“Good point.” He walks me to the well-used couch and starts to ease down, but at a certain point, he loses all control and we crash into the cushions.
“We’re so smooth.” I laugh.
“If you would stop bouncing for a second.”
“I’m happy. Give me a break.”
A light sparkles in his light brown eyes, and he grabs the back of my neck and presses another one of those crowning kisses to my lips. I love that my happiness makes him happy… makes him horny, too I guess. And I wriggle on his thighs, reeling over how comfy it is here. Who’d have thunk I’d be sitting in his lap, free as a bird.
“Can I tell you something without you making fun of me?” he asks, his breath rushing over me.
“Probably not.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, and his fingers curl against the nape of my neck. I trace the T on his Troublemakers shirt.
“I’m nervous,” he blurts.
“About what?”
He lets out a breath and rests his head against mine. “You.”
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious.” He sets a shaking hand on my thigh, and I realize he’s not lying.
“Why are you nervous?” Usually that’s my role.
“I’m starting to realize how long I’ve loved you, and it’s freaking me out a bit.”
“There goes that Freudian slip again.”
“Nah.” He swallows hard and gives me an adorable lopsided smile. “That one was on purpose.”
My heart doubles in speed, and I wish I had a paintbrush in my hand to capture this moment on canvas forever. I’d paint it in shades of deep magenta as contrast to the bright yellow and gold happiness I feel right now. I’d let the brush slide around the canvas, creating the perfect strokes to capture Pete’s imperfections. Magentas, pinks, and reds would cover the canvas, capturing the sharp line of his jaw, the mess of his hair, the unkempt state of his clothing. I wouldn’t change the color of his golden eyes, keeping them as bright and hopeful as they are right now.
I’d hang it in my house and refuse to ever take it down.
I lean forward slowly, deliberately, my breath catching just centimeters from his lips. “I’ve loved you for longer, I bet.”
“I beg to differ.” He hooks just above my knees and slides me even further into his lap. Our belly buttons kiss, and I swear I hear my heart sigh in my chest. “Wasn’t there this guy you were trying to change for? What was his name again?”
I bat him in the chest, and he captures my hand, keeping it there. His heart thunders just as wildly as mine. I know him well enough that even though I’m sitting on top of him, that I just professed my love, that he’s still unsure. I don’t blame him, either. My heart was so lost before, and now its nestled right where it should be—in his safe arms.
“You know if Zach burst into this room right now and told me everything you did, I wouldn’t have a second thought about who I’d choose.”
“Is that right?”
“Mmmhmm.” I trace the rest of the print on his shirt, and his hand starts to trail up and down my knuckles, creating havoc in my lower abdomen.
“You promise?” he asks, his voice just a decibel above a whisper. I meet his light brown eyes and nod my conviction. There is no comparison between the two of them, and I hate that it took me so long to see it, but I’m also grateful that it did. I’m not sure I would’ve believed he fell for the real me if I never showed him.
Because the truth is, I am a mix of both bad and good girl. He knows that, but more important
ly, I know that now too. And I’m okay with it.
He closes the small space between our mouths, his kiss slow and sweet, then growing in cadence. I meet him beat for beat, melding my body with his. His hands run up my sides, leaving scorching paths in their wake. I grasp at his hair, unable to fight my grin that splits through every time we break for air. He occasionally pauses just to look at me, resting his forehead against mine.
He taps a finger to the corner of my mouth. “This freckle kills me, you know.”
“Yeah?” I smoosh my lips together and try to make it dance.
“Very sexy.” He kisses it, and I turn like lightning to catch his kiss with mine. We make out for so long my face hurts from smiling and from beard burn.
“It’s getting late,” he says after who knows how long, but it’s not long enough. “We could get into trouble.”
I lean back, meeting his eyes with a wicked grin. “Worth it.” Then I throw myself at him again, cutting off our amusement. He matches my enthusiasm, and we don’t make a move toward the door. Or leaving at all. And I have no idea when that will happen. Someone might have to pry us apart.
I’m going to break so many rules with him, but only when I want to.
Candace
I’m going to see a penis today.
I will look at it, paint it, and then not give it a second thought.
Hopefully.
“You want me to come in with you? Hold your hand?” Pete teases, and I poke him in the stomach. Raina and Tristan wave as they pass us in the school’s hallway. It’s our first class after break, and we know Ms. Barley will probably throw another wrench into our painting plans, but I still think Zach’s going to be as naked as the day he was born.
“I’ll be fine,” I say through playful teeth, poking him again. Pete has a good, strong stomach—muscular, but not too muscular. There’s definitely a little pooch there under his green t-shirt, and I love it. Gosh, I love so much about him my brain won’t think straight.
“What about you?” My gaze falls to his pocket where I know his phone rests. “Do you need me to hold your hand?”
“Maybe.” He takes my hand in his and interlocks our fingers. “If I lose my nerve, I’ll bust down your classroom door and haul you out over my shoulder.”