Say You Still Love Me(91)

“Why?”

“Seriously, Piper? Christ, look at us!” He holds his hands out and laughs. “I’m in a security guard’s uniform! You know, for my job in your family’s high-rise office building. I’ve been working double shifts and saving every spare dollar for the past ten years, and I’m still five years away from ever being able to afford a down payment on anything. And here we are, literally standing in the middle of your family’s billion-dollar empire, with you in a ball gown like some sort of fairy-tale princess, after not eating at a five-thousand-dollar-a-plate party.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

Kyle shakes his head. “Maybe not right now, but you will, when you realize that I don’t fit into your world. And I don’t think I can go through that learning curve with you. I thought I could handle it, but the second I saw you I knew I can’t. I can’t stand the thought of having you and then losing you again.” He frowns deeply, as if pained. “There was a place where you and I worked, but it was thirteen years ago and we can’t go back in time, Piper. Believe me, if we could, I would. For so many reasons.” His eyes are full of earnest as they settle on mine, drifting to my mouth. “I’d go back in a heartbeat.”

“But . . . ” My objection fades on my lips, as my mind searches for words that will convince him that this is worth trying. That I am worth trying for.

I listen to what he’s telling me, though—that I wasn’t the only one with a broken heart when we left Wawa that summer. That brings me an odd shade of comfort, even as my chest aches with frustration.

Is Kyle right?

Am I still clinging on to a past that can never exist in the future? In my future?

We fall into silence as a man strolls past us, his poodle pausing to sniff the nearby park bench and then lift its leg against it.

“It’s an evening gown, by the way,” I mutter.

Kyle frowns curiously. “What?”

I slide his jacket from my shoulders, holding it out for him. “My dress. It’s called an evening gown, not a ball gown.”

He smirks, his eyes flittering over the plunging neckline as he closes the distance to accept his jacket from my hands. “See? I can’t even tell the difference between dresses.” His gaze locks on mine, and in it I see an odd resignation. “All I know is that you’ll always be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

I can’t resist any longer. Just like on that first day atop that rocky cliff, surrounded by empty packets of candy, my lips stained red from cherry powder, I lean in to press my lips against his.

It’s a quick kiss—a test, really—long enough to revel in the feel of his lips against mine again, and then I pull back, to hold my breath and wait for his reaction.

Terrified of his rejection.

“Piper . . .” His throat bobs with a hard swallow.

“We still have feelings for each other.”

“I know, but—”

“But we’re supposed to pretend we don’t? We’re supposed to pass each other in the hall as we go and date other people? I’m supposed to be okay with perky little Renée hovering around the security desk until you ask her out?” I shake my head, my frustration swelling. “No, I’m sorry. That’s not happening—”

Kyle’s lips crash into mine, cutting my words off. His hands are on me in an instant, one settling on the back of my bare neck, the other curling around my waist, to pull me flush into his solid body. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m kissing Kyle, and when I do, I reach for his shoulders for support as much as because I simply need to touch him.

This feels every bit as euphoric as I remember it being at sixteen, and yet different. He feels different. Thirteen years different. His body is stronger, his hands more assured as they smooth over my skin, his lips more demanding as they ply my mouth open to allow room for his tongue. His stance is different as he pulls me hard into him, not bothering to shift to hide his arousal.

Relief surges inside me.

This feels like coming home, after thinking I’d never see home again.

“Who could have guessed this was going to happen,” comes a familiar voice nearby, breaking Kyle and me apart.

Christa strolls up the sidewalk, her white Nike runners in stark contrast to her simple black skirt and plum-colored blouse. She stops in front of us. “Kyle . . . Long time, no see.”

He frowns, as if trying to place her. “Christa? Is that you?”

“Oh, good. You remembered my name at least.”

He brushes aside the dig. “You look so different. Good. Just . . . different.”

“It has been thirteen years.”

“Yeah.” He scratches the back of his head in wonder. And then, as if catching himself, he steps forward to envelop her in his arms. “It’s good to see you.”

She stiffens and glares at me, as if surprised, but eventually returns the embrace—with that awkward hand-pat-on-the-back move, the only kind of hug that Christa seems capable of giving. “Okay, well . . . this is weird on many levels.” She practically shakes him off. “I’ll see you upstairs, Piper? When you’re done mauling each other like a couple of teenagers on the sidewalk outside our building.”

“Yeah, sure,” I mutter absently, my mind already moving forward—to the fact that Kyle just kissed me.