I nod. Barely. My thoughts are gone.
Everything’s gone except the echo of that kiss and the way my body is still buzzing, like it hasn’t caught up yet.
Jeremy’s silent. Completely thrown.
Callum doesn’t even glance at him. Jeremy is no longer part of this evening.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs, soft but steady.
And I follow him.
Because my legs are moving before my head catches up.
Because every inch of me is on fire.
Because that kiss?
That wasn’t a performance.
That was something else.
I half-expect him to lead me straight out of the pub, out into the night air, away from the crowd and the eyes and the noise still ringing in my ears.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he steers me gently — hand warm on the small of my back — back toward my table. Back to Fran, who clearly witnessed the whole scene. She’s sitting there gobsmacked, mouth slightly open as if she’s forgotten how to speak.
I give her a tentative smile, because I have no idea how to even begin explaining any of this.
Callum pulls out my chair for me like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I sit, stiffly. My knees don’t feel like they’re connected to the rest of me.
Fran’s still staring.
Callum leans down. Close again. Too close. I feel the heat of him before he speaks — that same low, dangerous tone that nearly melted my spine in the kitchen.
“I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about that.”
Then he’s gone.
Just like that.
Walking out of the pub like he didn’t just kiss me in front of half the village. Like he didn’t just light a fire in the middle of my chest and leave it burning unattended.
Fran, with the slow clarity of someone trying to process an alien landing, says “Well.”
I stare at the door, heart thudding, lips still tingling.
“I think I need another drink,” I whisper.
Fran giggles. “Oh, I think you need a lot more than a drink.”
Chapter 9
Callum
The treadmill screams beneathme. My legs are burning. Sweat’s pouring down my back. None of it is helping.
I kissed her.
