“I’ve left against the side of the house since we moved in.” I laugh at his troubled expression, but it turns sad. Shaky. I don’t even realize I’m crying again until Zayne takes me in his arms, his eyes round. “Hey,” he whispers, rubbing circles on my back. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”
I bury my face in his chest. Both his arms tighten around me, causing my stomach to dance in circles.
“As promised,” he whispers into my hair, “a hug from yours truly.”
I smile against his shirt. “Thanks.”
We continue to stand in the center of my room, hugging, when a sink turns on near my parents’ room. Zayne pulls back, his eyes wide.
“It’s just my dad,” I tell him. “He gets up a lot in the middle of the night.”
“That’s very comforting.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry. He never comes in here. But if he did, and he saw you, you’d be dead.”
Zayne winces. “I figured as much.”
“We should lie on the bed. That way if he does come in, you can hide under the covers and he might mistake you for a wall of pillows.”
Zayne closes his eyes. “You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?” But his lips twist into a reluctant smile. “I guess it’s better than standing in the middle of the room, though.”
“Or worse,” I shrug.
“Not helping.”
“Sorry.”
He gets on my bed first and scoots against the wall it’s pressed against, and I get in on the side closer to the door so I can block him from view. I arrange my many pillows around him to try to hide him a bit, but he just shakes his head. “If I die, I die.”
I smother my laugh with my hand. “I hope this is worth the risk.”
He touches my cheek, forcing me to meet his gaze. All traces of humor leave his face. “It is.”
I search his eyes, level with my own on the pillows and close the distance between us.
The kiss begins softly, like the opening line of a play whispered between only us, setting the stage for something deeper. It’s slow and deliberate.
Until it isn’t.
The kiss transforms into something dizzying, something ardent within seconds. Zayne’s hands grip my waist, a touch both grounding and electric. When my fingers brush his shoulders to pull him closer, I feel his quiet strength beneath my hands. The air between us is thick with everything unspoken, and as our lips meet again and again, the rest of the world fades away. My heart tangles in my chest when he brushes a stray braid from my face and then softly holds my hand as we kiss.
In this moment, it’s not about want—it’s about something stronger, something I can’t explain. When he pulls back, his eyes are filled with desire and a depth that leaves me breathless. His voice comes out gravelly. “Dot, if we don’t stop now, I’m going to rip your clothes off.”
“Please don’t. This is one of my favorite outfits.” I grin, despite the way his words make my cheeks burn.
Amusement flickers in his gaze but he doesn’t respond, instead pulling me in for another kiss. This time it’s more resigned, less intense, and it only leaves me wanting more. Not fair. Then he kisses my forehead and says, “Goodnight, Dot.”
“Are you going to sleep here? I mean, I’m all for it, but my dad willdefinitelyfind you if you’re still here in the morning.”
He laughs breathlessly. “No. I’ll leave once you’re asleep.” He trails his fingertips along my cheekbone, and I close my eyes. I try not to think about Mom leaving in the morning, or Little Birdie’s nonsense. Part of me wants to ask him how he thinks Little Birdie found out what happened, but the possibilities are so limited, I’m not sure I’m ready to face them right now. Instead, I focus on Zayne’s soft, minty breaths caressing my face, and his smooth fingertips against my skin as I drift to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Zayne is already gone when I wake up the next morning, and so is my mom.
I vaguely remember her pressing a wet kiss against my cheek a few hours ago before disappearing, and I try not to cry as I envision what the next six months are going to look like with her gone again. I check my phone. There’s a picture Mom sent me from the plane. She’s wearing a hopeful smile and holding one of her thumbs up. Her curly hair is pulled back into a bun, and her face is lit by the sun shining through her window seat on the plane. The message underneath the picture reads:
Mom
