From the Jump(32)

I feel the heat of his mouth on mine before I realize what he’s doing. Actually, even then I’m not sure what, exactly, he’s doing. Because it’s not a kiss. Not really. For a moment, his lips brush against mine, but then they still, so close I can feel them like a whisper, but not quite making contact. My heart pounds, and I start to lean back, but his hand on my neck holds me in place, despite the lack of tension in his grip.

Our breath mingles, mine fast and his slow. His fingers slip up into my hair and come back down again, leaving a tingling trail in their wake. I feel the strange urge to bite at his lower lip with my teeth and tug it into place against my mouth. His forehead leans lightly against mine, and I feel the brush of his nose on the tip of my own. I focus on the pacing of his breath and am shocked to discover mine has slowed to match his. It’s overwhelmingly intimate, like he’s taken control of my insides and pulled them into a slow dance to some silent melody.

Through a haze, I hear the loud pounding near our tent, but the sound of it disappears when Deiss pushes through the invisible barrier between our mouths and captures my top lip between his. His tongue swirls against mine, sending an aching need through my belly. Before I can appease it, Deiss’s mouth is gone.

He says something I’m too distracted to hear, flashing a grin I can see in the dark.

I blink at him. I want a repeat of what just happened. It’s the only way I’ll be able to determine how it felt eternal and like a blip at the same time. “What was that?”

“You were panicking,” he says, “and I didn’t want to slap you.”

“So, you kissed me?”

“In my defense, it wasn’t meant to be a kiss. But then the elephants came closer, and . . .”

“You decided to shove your tongue in my mouth to keep me from screaming again.” It’s an ugly, unfair way to phrase it, like insisting silk is actually burlap. I can’t help myself, though. What was funny on the boat feels embarrassing now. By hypnotizing me with his pheromones, or whatever that magic was, he’s made me look as malleable and eager as my mother.

“It was a mistake,” he says quietly. “But I stopped. As soon as I realized I could distract you with my most embarrassing secret, I did that instead.”

“Your secret?”

“What I just told you,” he prompts. “About when I was a kid.”

I search my mind, but all that’s there is the memory of his mouth teasing at mine.

“When you peed your pants in the cafeteria?” I guess.

“I wish.” There’s rustling in the tent as he stretches his legs out and leans back on his arms. “It would mean my most embarrassing moment lasted for minutes instead of years. And that I’d actually been able to go to a school and eat lunch in a cafeteria like a normal kid.”

“Hmm.” I’m not going to ask. It’s what he wants, and he’s already proven he’s more than capable of playing me like a piano. Well, he can press that key all he wants, but there’s no sound coming out of this mouth. As if I care about some silly little embarrassment that happened to Lucas Deiss years before we even met. An embarrassment that apparently lasted for years. Something so traumatizing that he’d admit to its impact all this time later.

I can’t imagine what it could be. Not that I need to. Imagine it, that is. But really. Mac once stole his clothes while he was showering at the campus gym. I saw Deiss walking back to the dorm afterward, dangling a notebook over his nether regions as he chatted casually in the courtyard with Professor Cordero. If his bare butt flashing a game of touch football didn’t rank as an embarrassment, whatever did must have been really bad.

I hold my breath, but it’s not enough to keep the words inside. “What was it?”

“This is between the two of us,” Deiss says in a low voice. “The others don’t know.”

“Not even Mac?”

“Definitely not Mac.” There’s an edge of seriousness to his voice.

“But Phoebe knows.” It’s inconceivable that Lucas Deiss would share something with me that he hasn’t already told someone else. I’ve never been the kind of person people confess their secrets to. I don’t have the required warmth. Or maybe it’s simply because I’m incapable of sharing in return.

“Nobody knows,” he says. “And if anyone finds out, I’ll know they heard it from you.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” I’d never. Just because people don’t trust me with their secrets doesn’t mean I don’t know how to keep them.

“I know you wouldn’t. I just need you to understand how important this is. It would pretty much be the worst thing in the world if everyone found out I used to be a child star.” His voice catches on the last words like his body physically objects to the use of them.

“You used to be . . .” I trail off, trying to wrap my brain around what Deiss has just said. All I can picture is a shorter version of him in profile, too cool to bother turning toward the camera.

“The baby in Family Fun.” His nod draws my eyes back to his. “Well, at first, I was the baby. Then I became the toddler who said cheesy one-liners and took baths in front of a million viewers.”

“No.” My hand goes over my mouth, but a giggle sneaks around it. I lean forward, searching his face, but it’s too dark to find any sign of resemblance. Even in my memory, there’s none. But there wouldn’t be, would there? Deiss has always had long hair or a beard. “Are you telling me you were Noah Riley?”