Bright Before Sunrise(70)

I stall her answer with a kiss. I’m not ready to think about tomorrow. And in case tomorrow isn’t like this, I don’t want to ruin right now.

The ferocity with which I want her scares the hell out of me. I want to know her favorite candies. And colors. If she’s a good driver, a reality TV watcher, and as horrible with sports equipment as she says. I want to know more stories about her dad. And her favorite cereal, how she really likes her pizza, and the type of music she can’t help but sing along with. I want to watch a scary movie with her and see proof that she’s not afraid. I want to find out what she is scared of. If she doesn’t know the answers to these questions, then I want to be there when she figures it all out.

I want.

Her.

Everything about her. I open my eyes and study Brighton, try to figure out how she’s managed to get so far under my skin. And her skin—I want to uncover every inch of it, bury myself in it, fuse myself to her.

I jerk my mouth from hers, watching her breath slow and her eyes blink open.

“What?” she asks, a laugh teasing her lips into a smile. I suppress the urge to kiss her again and taste her laughter. “Jonah? Why are you staring at me like that? You’re making me nervous.”

I imagine telling her the truth: I want you more than is socially acceptable, and I don’t want to want you at all. I also don’t want the night to end, because tomorrow we’ll be back to normal.

No, not normal because Carly will still be gone and I’ll still have this impulse to touch Brighton embedded permanently somewhere near my rib cage.

“Tomorrow?” I say.

She sighs and I remember.

“Your dad’s memorial. I forgot.”

“Me too, for a minute. And it’s today. I don’t want to go inside and go to bed. I need to before Mom or Evy wakes up—but I don’t want to. I’m scared when I wake up, this will all be …” She touches my arm to finish her statement, and my hand is covering hers before I recognize the desire to touch her back.

“Yeah. I know.” It’s far too soon for me to attend the service for her father whom I never met. If I went with her, she’d spend the whole day answering questions about me. She doesn’t need that. Not on top of everything else. “Will you call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes?”

She nods and traces a circle on the seat with her finger. The same circle, over and over. “Will … will you … On Sunday, will you have lunch with me—”

“Yeah,” I agree quickly, scared the question is so hard for her to form but relieved she asked it.

“—and Amelia and Peter after the library thing?” she continues.

“Oh.” I know we’ll have to see them—see other people—but I don’t want to relive the parking lot scene over and over. We won’t work in anyone else’s eyes. Hell, we don’t even work in my eyes. Yet, I’m crushing her hand to my arm with my reluctance to let her go.

“They’re really ni—They’re good friends.”

Her eyes are pleading with me to agree, but if they snub me, how will she react?

“Couldn’t we—” Couldn’t we what? Have a secret relationship that no one knows about? If I reject her friends so they can’t reject me, where will that leave us? Am I really this lame?

Brighton leans her forehead against my shoulder. She sighs against my skin. “You don’t have to come to the library. And you don’t have to meet us for lunch. I’m not going to force you or be a brat about it, but I really think you could like them. If you wanted to.”

“Like them?”

“Yeah, I know we’re only juniors, and I’m not going to make you meet everyone at once … But I would love if you’d give Amelia and Peter a chance. I think you’ll like them … I hope you will.”

Like them?

“Okay.” After all, stranger things have happened: like me making out with Brighton Waterford.

“Really?” She picks her head up off my shoulder and beams at me.

“Does this mean I’m no longer uninvited to box books?” I tease.

“Really?” she repeats and kisses my cheek. I want to turn for a better kiss, but she’s narrating her relief: “I was scared you were going to say no. And I don’t want to force you. And if you don’t like them—well, then you tried and that’s okay. Jonah, I—I don’t want to change you. And I’d rather you never talked to me again than make yourself unhappy trying to fit into a me-shaped box.”

If she knew the thoughts her last words inspired, she’d be blushing darker than she already is.

“We’re going to shake up Cross Pointe,” I say with a laugh.

“No, Jonah, we’re not.” She stretches a hand out to cup my cheek, and I wonder if she can feel me tense beneath her palm. “No one’s going to care. This is the time of year where people are worried about finals and GPAs. Summer jobs and getting off wait lists and going on swimsuit diets. Maybe for a minute they’ll be surprised that either of us is dating anyone, but that’s about it. And if that’s why you want me—so you can prove a point or something—then you’re going to be disappointed.”

I release the breath I was holding. Can she really think that? “Of course it’s not.”