Vanish by Sophie Jordan

my chest as Cassian’s dark head emerges, followed by the rest of him. He lowers down beside me, the wood groaning in protest.
    “This is probably a deathtrap, you know. It should have been torn down a long time ago.”
    “It would be sacrilege. There are too many memories attached to it,” I say. “No one can do it.”
    He reaches down and strokes a moss-lined board. “Yeah. That’s the truth. Wonder how many first kisses were stolen up here.”
    Something tightens a little inside me at this. My first kiss wasn’t here. It was with Will. Out there. My gaze drifts to the vast world spread out below me, so different from the desert where my heart found Will. It probably should have been here. It probably would have been here if I hadn’t left.
    I inhale cool, damp air through my nostrils. “Why did you follow me?”
    Cassian’s voice rumbles on air as dense as the drape of night closing around us, sealing us in. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
    I say nothing. He stares at me with his impenetrable gaze. Rain starts to fall in earnest then, the patter amplifying the stretch of silence between us. The water finds its way through the holes and cracks in the canopy above us and drops coldly upon my hair. I don’t mind. I’ve never minded the cold.
    Cassian angles his head, water sitting on the sleek, dark strands like beads of crystal. “You really think I wouldn’t care if you were dead?”
    I pull back, remembering that I had accused him of not caring what happened to me.
    “I’ve been avoiding you because I’m just so damn annoyed. . . .” He shakes his head, sloshing water. The strands brush his shoulders rhythmically. “I don’t want you risking yourself again. The human world . . . Will. It’s too dangerous.” Cassian takes my hand. I feel his heartbeat through the simple touch, the thud of his life meeting with mine. “You dead . . . it would break me.” His voice whips sharply over the drum of rainfall. “Everything I ever said to you was the truth. My feelings haven’t changed for you, Jacinda. Even if you do drive me crazy, here, in the pride . . . you’re still that single bright light for me.”
    I don’t know who moved first.
    Maybe it was both of us. Or maybe I just don’t want to accept that it might have been me. Might have been my head inching forward, my wet face lifting up to his. My heart beating so loud it thundered like a drum in my chest.
    His lips are soft at the first brush. One of us trembles. Me or him. Both of us? I don’t know, don’t care.
    It’s a feathery kiss, lips brushing, grazing, tasting, almost as if we are afraid of startling each other. And we are.
    Even as exhilarated as I feel in this moment, I’m not totally unaware of what’s happening—of the strangeness of me kissing Cassian. It’s terrifying to do this thing that has been unthinkable for so long. But I guess buried underneath it all, tension has always been a humming wire stretched tightly between us. Tonight I let go of my end and the wire snaps free. Before Will, I had wondered about Cassian and me, wondered about us—together. I had thought maybe . Even if I never admitted it to myself, never could because of Tamra. Because I was told that we would be together someday and not asked .
    Yet, even knowing all this, I don’t stop. Don’t pull away and run.
    The gentle play of his rain-wet lips on mine is sweet, exciting. I lean into him, taste mint on his mouth. My heart warms, softens to have this intimacy, this connection to another soul again.
    Until the kiss changes.
    The pressure increases ever so slightly. The intensity deepens into something that I feel in my bones, in the sudden snap of my flesh and hot rush of my blood. His lips grow more demanding, hard and soft at the same time, devouring my mouth.
    I moan and he quickly pulls back, brushing my face with his fingers. “Is this okay—”
    Nodding, I pull him back to me, needing this too much right now. I can’t feel