Leah on the Offbeat (Creekwood #2)(77)

“Is that a happy wow or a holy shit wow?”

“It’s both. It’s holy shit, I’m so happy.” Then she kisses me again, and my eyes flutter shut. I feel everything at once: her thumb tracing my cheekbones, the quiet pressure of her lips. My knees are jelly. I don’t even know how I’m standing. I slide my hands up over her shoulder blades and pull her even closer.

I am just. Holy fuck. I am kissing the girl.

“You’re giggling,” she says, lips still flush with mine.

“No way. I don’t giggle.”

I feel her smile. “That’s such a lie.”

“Maybe I only giggle around you.”

“Oh, really?” She grins and draws back, hands falling to my shoulders. “God, Leah. Just look at you.”

“Hot mess?”

“Beautiful,” she says. “I hope you know that.”

The way she’s looking at me makes me lose my breath. I press my fingertips to my mouth. I swear, my lips have a pulse.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

“You.” I don’t even pause. God. I’m never this unfiltered. But I feel giddy and wild and twenty times braver than usual. I kiss her again softly. “It’s like you give off light.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “You are out of your mind.”

“I seriously am.” I feel breathless, almost loopy. I press my hand to my cheek.

And then suddenly, my eyes are drawn to Garrett’s corsage on my wrist.

“Oh, hell no,” Abby says, following my gaze. “Don’t you start questioning things.” She takes both my hands, clasping them between us.

“I’m not,” I say quickly, but I feel my stomach lurching. I just kissed a person who isn’t my prom date. I just—holy shit. I kissed Nick’s ex-girlfriend.

“Leah,” Abby says warningly.

“Okay, but—”

“Nope. Just. Kiss me, right now.”

“Just right now? On command?”

“Leah,” she says again, rolling her eyes. Then she kisses me so hard that I practically unravel.

Time stops.

And something in me unlocks.

“Okay?” she says finally, her voice cracking slightly. “Stop thinking about Nick, stop thinking about Garrett, and definitely stop thinking about if it’s a cliché to kiss on prom night.”

I sniff. “It is a cliché.”

“Whatever. Clichés rule.”

I just look at her. I can’t believe I’m allowed to do this. I can just stare at her face without it being creepy. I want to memorize every single inch of this Abby—the shine of her cheekbones and the brightness of her eyes. There are tears in her lashes, and her lips are sort of puffy. I don’t know how this girl can go from laughing to crying to kissing and back, and still come out of it looking like an actual moonbeam.

I am done for. Totally, utterly, irreversibly done for.

“So, I think I’m going to like having a drummer girlfriend,” she says.

“Girlfriend.” My heart flips.

She looks suddenly nervous. “Or not.”

“Just give me, like, a second to process this.” I squeeze her hands. “Girlfriend, huh?”

“And roommate.”

I laugh. “That’s literally the worst idea ever.”

“Like I care.” She smiles.

“You are trouble, Suso.”

“You have no idea.”

I can’t even form words, so I shut up and kiss her. I swear to God, I could make a career out of this. Professional kisser of Abby Suso. She tugs me closer, hands falling to my waist, and I still can’t believe it. I’m wearing a prom dress on a dirt trail on a starlit April night, kissing the nerdiest fucking cheerleader in the whole entire world. This can’t actually be real.

But then I hear it: the crunch of twigs beneath shoes, and the quietest gasp. Abby stiffens, and we quickly disentangle.

Someone’s standing right behind me, watching. I slowly turn around, my stomach clenched with dread. I mean, what the fuck kind of day is this? What does the universe even have to say for itself? I forgot to buy a bra. Our car broke down. Our restaurant was bright pink. Martin Addison showed up in a powder blue tux, so now that’s forever burned into my brain. Everything’s a mess. Abby and I are the biggest hot mess of all. I don’t even know what we were thinking, kissing so close to the pavilion. Literally any Creekwood asshole could have stumbled up the trail and found us. Anyone.

Except.

Maybe the universe doesn’t hate me after all.

Because when I look up, there are only two people staring at Abby and me with their mouths hanging open.

Simon’s hand flies to his face. “Wait,” he says faintly. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say more, but then he just snaps it shut. Bram doesn’t say a word.

Abby laughs nervously. “Surprise.”

Simon glances back and forth between us like he’s waiting for the punch line.

“Well.” Deep breath. “I guess you thought I was straight.”

He tilts his head to one side, but I don’t wait for him to respond.

“So, yeah. I’m not. Like really not. I am really, really bi.”