Today Tonight Tomorrow(82)

“You’ll meet plenty of other Jewish kids in Boston.”

“You’re making it really hard for me to compliment you.”

He gives me a sheepish smile, and at that I finally feel myself relax. We can be okay. We have to be. “I’m sorry about what I said, too,” he says. “About you sabotaging yourself. That was… completely out of line. You were incredible at that open mic, and—and I should have given you more credit for that.”

“You weren’t entirely wrong, though.” I lean against the railing, a couple feet from him, testing our boundaries. “I’m a bit of a dreamer, and I stand in my own way. Sometimes it feels like competing with you is the only thing that’s grounded me.” I pause, then: “I called my parents. I told them about my book.”

His eyes light up. It’s a crime that I’ve never noticed how lovely they are. “And? How did it feel?”

“Terrifying. Fantastic,” I say. But I’m not done apologizing yet. I haven’t been fully honest with him tonight. Every time I said something wrong, I was trying to stick to a plan that no longer feels like mine. I wonder how it would feel to let go of that completely. “Neil. I keep saying these horrible things to you, these things I don’t mean. Not just what I said about your dad, either. Like when you asked me to sign your yearbook. It’s like my natural instinct is to fight with you, and I’m trying really hard to override it, but I’ve messed up a few times. And I’m so sorry.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “My instinct is to brush it off and tell you it’s fine, but… thank you for saying that.”

“What I said in the library, when we were dancing…” When I exhale, it’s shaky. The way he spilled his heart on my yearbook page, he might be braver than I’ve ever been. He makes me want to try harder. “I wasn’t imagining anyone else.”

This drags a smile out of him. “Yeah?” he says, and I nod.

“I really did have fun with you today.” Slowly, I inch closer to him, watching his face carefully. His brows twitch, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s swaying slightly in my direction. One and a half more steps and we’d be chest to chest, hip to hip.

“Was that so hard to admit?” he asks, his smile deepening into a smirk.

I am in love with you, Rowan Roth.

I fist a hand in my hair and let out a strangled, frustrated sound. “God, you are so infuriating.” It doesn’t come out cruel, though. Teasing, maybe, but not cruel.

“But you like it.” It’s possibly the boldest thing he’s said all day, and when he takes a step forward, I can feel the heat radiating off him. No wonder he was fine parting with his hoodie—the boy is a human sauna. “You like being infuriated. By me.”

I do. I like it so much.

My breath hitches. He must be able to hear it, because one side of his mouth slants up, and he runs his hand along the railing until it almost but not quite touches mine. There’s so little space between our bodies now. His scent is earthy and heady, making me ache for something I didn’t know I wanted.

The fantasy: that my perfect high school boyfriend would be the epitome of romance.

The reality: Neil McNair has been here all along.

“Passive voice?” I challenge, sounding much huskier than I’m used to hearing. “Westview taught you better than that.”

It doesn’t make him laugh the way I hoped. Instead, he gives me this look that’s half amused and half serious, one that turns me electric. His gaze is steady, and I have a view of the gorgeous angles of his throat as he swallows hard.

“No,” he says, so close to me that I can almost hear his heart beat in time with mine. “You did.”

And that’s what pushes me over the edge. Before I can overthink it, before I spend forever dreaming up the perfect moment, I lunge forward, pinning him against the railing and covering his mouth with mine.





HOWL STANDINGS

TOP 5

Neil McNair: 14

Rowan Roth: 14

Brady Becker: 14

Mara Pompetti: 13

Carolyn Gao: 10

PLAYERS REMAINING: 11

ARE WE CLOSE TO A WINNER? HURRY AND GOOD LUCK!





1:21 a.m.


NEIL MCNAIR IS kissing me back. There’s no hesitation, not like when we hugged earlier with shy, uncertain limbs. This time, he lets himself fall.

His lips press hard against mine as I wrap my arms around his neck, sinking into him. It’s a fast, desperate kind of kiss, and God, he feels good. His hands get lost in my hair, and that plus his mouth plus this sound he makes deep in his throat turn my blood to fire. I part my lips, tasting a lingering sweetness from the cinnamon roll we shared. My imagination wouldn’t have been able to do him justice.

When he smiles against my mouth, I can feel it.

“Rowan?” he says as he pulls back, his voice a mix of surprise and awe. He’s breathing hard. His eyes are beautiful and heavy-lidded, those long lashes fluttering against the lenses of his glasses. Maybe it’s drowsiness, or maybe he’s just as drunk on this feeling as I am. “What’s… happening?”

“I’m kissing you.” I move one hand from the collar of his shirt to the back of his neck and into his hair. I want to burn every texture into my fingertips. “Should I stop?”