Miles From Kara by Melissa West

sun peek out first thing in the morning. I couldn’t say no. I stood up, wishing I had the guts to take his hand, but I knew if I allowed his fingers to slip between mine, I’d never let them go.
    We started across the grass, its dampness seeping over my sandaled feet, leaving tiny blades stuck between my toes. Normally I would be annoyed at the feeling and I’d reach down to brush the blades away, but all I could think about was the guy walking beside me, his head down as though he were contemplating something. If only I knew what it was.
    The sounds from the movie fell farther and farther away as we reached the pool, where a guy was playing a guitar and had drawn a small crowd in to listen. Colt reached the gate and unhooked it, holding it open for me to slip in front of him. My body grazed his as I slid past him, instantly causing butterflies to swarm through my stomach. I glanced up to find him watching me, his stare penetrating.
    â€œIs this okay?” he asked.
    My heart hit in my chest, reminding me that I was there, really there, experiencing the moment. “I think it has to be.”
    He nodded once with a small smile and then touched my back gently as he directed me over to a pair of open chairs in the far left corner.
    I expected his hand to drop away once we were safely inside the pool area, but instead he let it slide around my waist loosely. I wanted to look up at him again, to check to see if he was feeling the intensity that I felt, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was afraid that if I moved too fast or shifted the wrong way, he’d remember that his hand was still touching me and would let it fall away. Never in my life had I been so desperate to keep someone close to me.
    As we reached the chairs, the smooth sounds of the guitar and the singer’s rich voice were the only things we could hear. I sat down in a sun chair, expecting him to sit beside me, but instead he straddled the space behind me and pulled my back flush against his chest. His chin was just inches over my shoulder, and my heart was a crazy mess that I knew he could hear pounding in my chest.
    I opened my mouth to say something, when he threaded his fingers through mine and then rested our hands on his legs. “Listen,” he said, simply.
    â€œI—”
    â€œJust listen.”
    I closed my mouth and focused on the words pouring out from the guitarist, and each word seemed like it was meant just for us. Words of passion and bravery and hope and love. Words of longing and chance and willingness to try. I closed my eyes as I took them in and felt Colt’s breath against my cheek, my neck.
    â€œI want to kiss you,” he whispered, “but I won’t. Not yet.”
    I opened my eyes and turned toward him, his face so, so close. “Why?”
    â€œBecause when I kiss you, I want to know that you’re with me. And only me.”
    I wanted to tell him that I was only with him, that I had been for months now, but I couldn’t put my heart on the line like that. Not yet.
    As soon as the words hit in my mind, I realized that he was saying the same thing. He was talking about a kiss and my heart, but they were one in the same.
    â€œOkay,” I said instead.
    â€œBut you should know,” he said, his gaze dropping to my mouth, “that every fiber in my body is aching to touch your lips. To taste them. It’s consuming me.”
    I stilled in his arms.
    â€œBut I won’t.”
    Suddenly everything around me disappeared and it was just Colt and I and his amazing eyes and his words telling me that he wanted to kiss me. How could not kissing be hotter than kissing?
    He brushed a loose strand of hair out of my face and then leaned against the back of the chair, pulling me closer to him as we listened to the guitarist continue his love song. I wished that the lyrics would come true for me. Because then I would find myself in this position with Colt again, and the