"Maybe I was concerned." His voice crackles with frustration. "Maybe I came out here in a storm because I was worried about you."
His words are a strange kind of revelation, like I'm looking at someone new. He's saying he genuinely cares about me, which runs counter to everything I'd previously considered. Then again, maybe he just wants to be a hero.
"I didn't ask you to worry about me."
I'm not willing to give up my anger so easily. It's the only thing keeping me from rending his clothing from his body.
"That makes no sense!" He throws up his hands. "Sometimes people worry about you whether you ask them to or not. Get over it."
I can't hold myself back now. I step toward him, closing up the last bit of space between us. My hands find the bottom edge of his t-shirt. Yanking him toward me, I make a sound that comes out like a snarl, a groan and a growl rolled into one.
"You. Are. Awful."
His hands grasp my shoulders, and he pulls us even closer together. Our lips meet in a clash that isn't soft or hard, it's simply inevitable. We're opposing magnets that got too close and can't resist the attraction.
There's nothing laid back about Seth's kisses. They're possessive and greedy, like he can't get enough of me, and I'm responding like a sin eater—yes, please, give me more of these lips, tongue and teeth. I've waited far too long. He's teasing me and hungry for me at the same time, and I'm both relieved and even more ramped up now that it's happening.
I couldn't do this if I wasn't completely sure that he is as lost in me as I am in him, and I have no doubt of that. Both of us are out of our minds. Hands are roaming bodies, and I finally get to stroke the golden skin and muscles I've been admiring from afar. They don't disappoint.
Just as I'm abandoning myself to the moment, there's a voice in my head that asks, "What the hell are you doing, Andie?" It's a low hum in my ears, reminding me that hooking up with Seth is a not a good idea for a variety of reasons, but his lips have moved down my neck and are devouring it for dinner so fuck you, voice of reason! The shivers he's sending down to my lady parts, igniting a fire down there, are enough reason to continue. His hands slide down my sides to rest on my hips, which he tugs up against him as the parade of kisses heads down to my throat.
"Oh, my god," I whisper as his lips find my clavicle.
For some reason, I find that I'm on my tiptoes, my hamstrings quivering both from exhaustion and nervous excitement. My desperate legs aren't going to hold me up much longer, not if he continues this onslaught. I've dropped my head toward my shoulder to make sure he has enough space to devour me, and without meaning to, I let out a whimper of pleasure. I can feel him smile against my skin, and I don't care anymore. I don't care that he's getting the best of me, as long as he doesn't stop.
When his strong hands slide up under my shirt, I'm eager to get rid of our clothing altogether. His skin needs to be on mine, and we need to move this party to the barn floor before I collapse. From the hard bulge in his shorts, I'm pretty sure he'll be good with that suggestion.
Suddenly there's a vibration near my waist, and my hot take on this is that my vagina is sounding the alarm because I'm in serious danger of having sex right here, right now. Of course, it's not. My vagina has never been that sensible. The phone in his pocket is buzzing. He swears and steps back to retrieve it, and as he fumbles to swipe the screen, I reel with the loss of his warmth and his touch. But his distance also has a positive effect on my reasoning. Holy hell, what am I doing? And, more importantly, why is he stopping to answer a call?
It's obvious that whoever is on the other end of the line has been worried about me.
"She's right here, and we're both fine. We took shelter in the barn. I'm sorry I didn't call. I got..." He looks over at me and runs his fingers through his hair, "...distracted."
My legs are truly useless at this point, and I sink down onto what was probably once a nice firm bale of hay but is now a scratchy lump. Seth talks endlessly about the storm as I consider more important things, like why that kiss felt destined to happen. The word "destined" makes me think of Isabelle's prediction, but I refuse to entertain the idea that Seth is the great love of my life.
When he ends the call, he explains that it was Dad on the other end of the line. Apparently, he's been frantic since he heard the tornado alert sound on his phone and couldn't find me in the house. The one time I run without my phone is the night we have tornadoes raging nearby, of course.
"He called me to say you were missing, and I offered to look for you."
I correct him gently but firmly. "I wasn't missing. I was running."
His voice sharpens slightly. "In the dark for over an hour?"
I look down at my leg and scratch an inflamed area. I'm beginning to look diseased from all the red welts on my skin.
"I took the scenic route."
"Wait, were youlost?" I can practically see the lightbulb go on above his head.
I pretend to retie my shoe as I think of a way to bend the truth.
"I wouldn't say lost, exactly. I tried running in the woods for the first time, and the loop I went on was a little longer than expected."
Seth narrows his eyes. "None of those trails loop back."
"Well, now you see my conundrum." I look up, into the rafters, as if the barn ceiling is endlessly fascinating.
There's a two-second delay before he guffaws loudly. I can't help but smile, too, because I have to admit that my adventures tonight have been kind of ridiculous. I've never heard Seth's laugh before, not this kind of unguarded belly laugh. He's actually bent over at the waist, hands on his hips, gasping for air.
