“On the contrary. I was impressed by your determination and spirit.”
I never imagined he saw me as anything more than a nuisance.
“Remember when you tried to teach me how to skip stones?” I ask, smiling at the memory.
Humor lightens Cenric’s eyes as he speaks. “How could I forget? You nearly took out half the fish population with your wild throws.”
I give his shoulder a light shove. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“You’re right. You were worse. Especially when you gave me this.” He lifts his hand to the scar on his eyebrow.
More heat flares to my face. “I’m so sorry about that.”
“Why? It was a long time ago.”
“It was seven summers ago,” I blurt out.
His brow lifts.
“I remember everything.”Stop talking. Please stop talking.
“What do you remember?”
How do I explain that I remember every excruciating detail of that day without sounding like a lovesick fool?
“It was during the fall festival. You were showing off your stone-skipping skills to impress Leah.” I try not to let bitterness seep into my tone as I continue. “I thought I’d give it a try. I picked up what I hoped was a nice stone. But it was actually a jagged rock. When I threw it...” I trail off, gesturing vaguely at his eyebrow.
“When you threw it, you nearly took my eye out,” he finishes.
A groan escapes me as I bury my face in my hands. “I was mortified. I ran away crying, convinced you’d hate me forever.”
“Is that why you avoided me for weeks after?”
I peek through my fingers. “You noticed?”
“Of course. I thought you were angry with me.”
If he only knew I was avoiding him, because every time I saw that bandage on his forehead, I was ashamed for what I had done to him.
“Well,” I say, trying for a light tone, “at least it gave you a dashing scar.”
Cenric’s lips quirk up. “And here I thought you were trying to make me more handsome.”
I snort, hoping it masks how true that statement feels. “As if you needed the help.”
Did I just say that out loud?
Instead of seeming dismayed by my slip, he shifts until he’s fully facing me and leans closer. My heart races, pounding against my ribcage, as if it might burst free at any moment.
Just as I feel the barest brush of his lips against mine, a deafening clap of thunder rips through the air.
“By the gods!” My hands fly to my chest. “Was that thunder, or did the sky try to devour us?”
He cups my face in his strong hands and brings my mouth back toward his. Then, he does something I have dreamed about. He kisses me. It’s not a fleeting peck or a teasing brush of his mouth against mine. No, this is something else entirely. It’s a devouring, all-consuming kiss.
I kiss him back, pouring out everything I’ve yearned to give him for so many summers—my true self, my adoration, all the feelings I’ve kept locked away.
He doesn’t realize it yet, but my heart has always belonged to him and him alone. Through childhood games and adolescent longings, through tears and laughter.
