Serious Moonlight(87)

“Because of a metaphoric song you heard in a metaphoric convenience store?”

“Yep. It was one of those big moments in life that completely changes your head. And I know the exact minute it happened, too,” he said, studying my face as if he were looking at me for the first time. “That’s the weirdest part. It happened about thirty seconds after I hung up with my mom. She called on Monday to tell me you’d come to the dance studio, and I was happy—happy that she was happy and that we weren’t fighting anymore. And happy that you cared enough to do that, and then . . . Then my entire brain just lit up.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me,” I whispered.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“What to happen?”

“You’re the song in that convenience store, Birdie. Do you understand? I’ve accidentally fallen in love with you.”

Everything fell out of my head at once. My fingers started trembling. Then my arms. My internal organs were melting together, and a blazing wildfire spread through my chest. My frightened-rabbit heart tried to tear a hole through my flesh and escape.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he assured me. “But I had to tell you. That’s why I came out here.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “See, the funny thing is, though, I think you feel the same way.”

I opened my mouth, but weird noises came out instead of real words. His confessional thrilled me . . . and terrified me. I didn’t know how to answer, and I wasn’t sure why. All I could do was cling to him like the floor was disappearing beneath my feet and I’d fall into a bottomless pit if either of us let go. All I could say was, “Kiss me.”

And he did.

We kissed like we were desperate, separated for years and had only minutes to spare until the world ended, rushing, breathless, all roaming hands-teeth-tongue, and I was clinging to his neck, trying to pull him underwater with me. When I stopped for breath, he said my name against my open mouth, hips swaying against mine. And a dark, drugging heat spread through my limbs like a slow fire.

I didn’t even care that he pressed too hard against me and made me jump—“Sorry, sorry, sorry”—or that I accidentally bit his lip and tasted blood—“Are you okay?” None of that mattered. Not until I felt my knees giving out. I pushed him away, worried I was going boneless again, waiting for the telltale feeling, that between-heartbeats moment when I knew I was going down.

“What’s happening?” he said in a rough voice, sounding like he’d been chasing down a freight train. “Are you having an episode?”

My quiet room filled with the sound of our heaving breath. I waited to be sure, then shook my head. “I’m okay,” I assured him.

“Sure?”

“False alarm. You made my knees turn to jelly.”

“Yeah?”

My gaze lit on his bottom lip and the dot of blood there. I wiped it away. He held my hand there and kissed my fingers. Then he said, “Wanna take a nap?”

“Not tired,” I said.

“Me either.”

We both laughed as joy rushed through my chest.

“Just a nap,” he said, letting go of me to take off his socks.

I did the same. “Sure. Just a nap.”

We took off our shirts. Jeans. His eyes all over me and mine on him.

He tentatively took my hands and pulled me toward my canopy bed, where we crawled on top of the covers together. “This is a small bed, Birdie.”

“Big enough.”

He snorted. “Better than the back seat of my car.”

“And no creepy forest mural.”

“Just this weird old bum staring out from this pillow. Is this Columbo? You have a Columbo pillow?”

I did. Beneath a screen-printed photo of the famous detective was his catchphrase, JUST ONE MORE THING. I yanked it from beneath Daniel’s head and threw it on the floor. “Better?”

“Much. God, you feel good,” he murmured, hands roaming over my hips.

“So do you.”

“If you ignore it, it will go away. Maybe. Eventually. Jesus, that’s . . . not helping.”

“Should I not . . . ?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“I forget?” He half smiled at me, eyelids heavy and blinking like his lashes were trapped in honey, until I stopped touching him. “Oh, that was mean.” He shifted, half on top of me, pinning a leg to the bed with his. “Okay, listen, Birdie.”

“Listening,” I said, squirming against him.

“I propose a new plan. It’s called the Nick and Nora Go Wild plan, and it involves us solving mysteries, eating pie for breakfast, and putting our hands all over each other.”

“Sounds risky.”

“It’s completely risky, and I can’t promise it won’t fail. But before you say yes or no, I want to try something. You tell me to stop if you hate it.”

What was not to like? He was kissing my neck again and then lower, moving down the bed to my stomach. His long hair was a curtain around his face, tickling my skin as he slid down my body, and then— Oh.

Oh.

“Give it a chance, okay?” he said from a million miles away. And then I nearly blacked out. First from embarrassment, then from pleasure. If my body was going to pick a time to go cataplexic, it sure as heck better not be now! But it didn’t, and the only thing interrupting the greatest thing that had ever happened to me in my entire life was Daniel, stopping to ask me questions. I tried to answer, but couldn’t, so I was relieved that he seemed to understand what I only had a vague idea about.