Instinctively I lift my chin and push my throat against the side of his thumb and pointer finger. “I think I might.”
Koa’s eyes darken and the muscles in his jaw flex as he grinds his teeth. His thumb brushes against the sensitive skinat the base of my throat. “Maybe next time. Can you hold out your hands for me?”
“Sure,” I agree. I would say yes to anything he asked at this point. I’m so turned on. I’m not proud of how easily I’m falling back in line with him. A few sweet words and I’m ready to fall at his feet.
He tenderly takes my empty hands in his, flipping them where my palms are facing the ceiling. Silently he dips the brush in the paint and begins to spread paint on the inner part of my palm where my hands are touching.
My right hand flinches without warning. “Tickles,” I say, when he pauses and looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m almost finished. I’m not much of an artist.” He puckers his lips and a slow breath of air skates over my hands sending shivers down my spine. “Done.” He leans back and discards the brush on the table with the others.
“It’s a heart,” I say, lining up my pinkies and cupping my hands. It’s uneven and a little wonky but it’s definitely a heart.
“It’smyheart.”
In the palm of my hands. The unsaid words hang in the air.
“You’re going to make me fall in love with you again, aren’t you?” I whisper.
“Again?” he asks with raised eyebrows and a hint of a smile.
“We should probably go look around before it gets too late.” I stand abruptly.
He crowds me and blocks my escape. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make you wonder why you ever stopped loving me in the first place.” He steps aside letting me pass.
Inhaling deep breaths, I take a moment to collect myself. I’m afraid his plan is already beginning to work. I’ve been carrying around years of feeling betrayed and hurt. Why am I torturing myself? Is he really the only one at fault? Maybe some of the heat should fall on me. Regardless, it’s becoming a burden and I’m tired.
“Are you ready?” he asks, coming up behind me. His palm presses against my lower back. For the first time in years, his touch feels comforting instead of commanding. In the past, I felt like he was leading me around like a child.
His eyes fill with concern as he waits for my response.
“Yes,” I answer. Am I saying yes to him? To us? I don’t know. I think I’m saying yes to trying. To figuring it out. To putting one foot in front of the other and seeing where that takes me.
Because as much as I’ve been trying to move forward, I’ve been stuck in one place. Maybe the only way to truly get over Koa is to date him.
We walk around the gardens, taking in the lights and the people. Everywhere you turn there is something hidden in the lush greenery. Little details straight from a fairy tale.
Conversation is minimal, and I don’t know if it’s because neither one of us knows what to say or if we’re enjoying theambiance. I’m walking beside someone I’ve known half my life but at times I feel like I barely know him at all anymore.
While we’ve spent time in each other’s presence, we have never fully let our guard down around each other the past few years.
“Look!” I shout, pointing at a photo booth they have tucked in between oversized hydrangeas, making it appear like it belongs in the middle of a secret garden. “We have to do it.”
“The pictures never turn out good. I never know when they are taking the photo,” he grumbles.
“That’s half the fun. Come on.” I take hold of his bicep and drag him toward the booth.
“You said that the last time we did one of these,” he says, dropping to the bench and placing our stuff on the floor in front of him. He leans forward and pulls out his wallet from his back pocket to pay for our impromptu photoshoot.
“I did?” I squeeze in next to him. We awkwardly shift our bodies trying to get comfortable. “These things aren’t as big as they used to be,” I say, laughing at my awkwardness.
“They’re the same size. We’ve gotten older,” he says, taking control and putting his arm around me. I’m forced to lean into him. “And yes, you did. At my fourteenth birthday party.”
“I think I blocked most of that day out of my memory.” After embarrassing myself with my bowling skills, I wanted to forget the whole day. “Look at the camera,” I tell him.
The screen counts down and the camera flashes. “You didn’t look. You don’t have to smile but you have to at leastlook.” I straighten my hair and position myself in a different angle for the next shot.
“I am looking. I’ve been looking for years,” he murmurs. I slant my head enough to see his face. His eyes are soft and his mouth is curled in a boyish smile. “I almost kissed you that day.”
