Riding With Brighton(35)

I cock my head at him, trying to understand if it’s really possible that he’s this damn perfect. “You’re a charmer. Everyone we’ve come across today absolutely loves you. You make everyone feel exactly like I’m feeling right now, huh?”

“I’m not a charmer.” His tone is defensive. “I mean, I might be charming, but it’s not an act. All those people who absolutely love me… I love them too.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. You just give so much of yourself to everyone. And you say the right things.”

“That shit I just said to you… I don’t just spew stuff like that to everyone.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What about the communicating mouths? You say that to all the boys you kiss?”

He laughs and it’s a relief. Unlike him, I keep saying all kinds of stupid shit today that’s just wrong, and that could have been one of them. “No.”

“No?”

“I’ve never shared my communicating mouths theory with anyone but you.”

Heart sinking—that’s a legit term too. Obviously, I was hoping he was gonna say something else.

“And honestly,” he adds, “I thought we communicated pretty damn well.” He gives me a crooked smile, like an exclamation point at the end of his perfect sentence.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe the best communication I’ve ever had.”

“There you go again, saying all the right things.”

“I guess I am pretty smooth,” he tells me with a laugh.

“Cooper should be taking notes.”

He’s still laughing, but then he turns serious. “Just so you know, it’s not bullshit. It’s the truth.”

“Good to know.”

So far with the totally sloppy frantic kiss and even the sweet small kiss, Brighton has been the one to initiate them, and I haven’t tried to change that because he made it clear he didn’t really want to go there with me until I had all my shit figured out. But I figure I deserve a reward for all my hard work, so I reach over and grab the chain on his swing and pull myself to him. I hold his face with my free hand, and he leans into me, grabbing on to both of my thighs, and that’s all the go-ahead I need.

My lips find his, and this time I savor the way they feel. I let my tongue explore the ridges of his lips and the texture of his tongue. I kiss him hard and soft, deep and on the surface. I kiss him with my lips and my teeth and my tongue. I kiss him every way I can think of because I don’t want there to be a way I haven’t kissed this man. I don’t want there to be a way he’s been kissed by someone else that I haven’t gotten to experience. I kiss him until my lips are raw. And even then, I don’t want to stop.

It’s him who eventually does it for me. Although, it seems like an effort based on how many times he backs off, then returns for just one more. “Are you trying to make a point?” he asks through his labored breath. He takes a hand off my leg to drag his sleeve over his lips, just like he did the first time.

“A point?”

“That there should be no maybes in a sentence where I’m talking about kissing you.”

“Are you saying I’m the official winner of the best communication award?”

“Maybe.” He smirks at me. “Or maybe that was just the quarterfinals and you’re gonna have to compete again.”

“I like a challenge. I’m extremely competitive.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that about you.”

I laugh, but a giant yawn interrupts it.

“You gotta be exhausted, huh?” Brighton asks.

“It’s hard work trying to get you to kiss me.”

He smiles but says, “Seriously, you gotta be mentally drained. You want to go back to my place for a while? We can chill and watch a movie or something.”

“Hell yes. That sounds awesome.” Suddenly the idea of just sitting, losing myself in some made-up world, sounds like the cure to all the world’s problems. “Seriously, Brighton, you always say the perfect thing.”




AS I get in my truck, by myself, I don’t feel half as sure as I did with Brighton by my side. I whip my truck around and drive to Brighton’s house, which literally takes seconds, but still, as soon as it’s in park, I jump out of the cab like I’m running from myself. From the dumb jock asshole who, if given the chance to think about doing this by himself for too long, might turn into a kid who has the moment. Thoughts are whirling through my head, and I can’t stop them. What if Sadie tells everyone? How the hell am I gonna explain this? What kind of shit are my friends gonna say or do to me? How ashamed are my parents gonna be of me? I’m gay. Shit.

I’m running my hands over my face, totally spiraling, when I feel a big, warm set of hands grasp on to my wrists and pull them away. I open my eyes and see Brighton’s concerned face. “I’m not having the moment. I swear to God,” I tell him, and I silently pray I’m not lying.

“Seriously, you need to rest. Come on.”

As he walks me inside, I can feel it—how tired I really am. We head into the kitchen where his family is just sitting down to eat.

“Oh good, you boys are here. Come sit down,” his mom tells us.