Chapter 20

DARCY

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I'm not answering that doorbell. Probably some kids playing ding-dong-ditch. I'm not expecting anyone, and I'm not in the mood to deal with some next-door Karen who is mad about the construction. Again.

I'm hanging the art in Chance's room and second-guessing my selection. What am I doing? I'm not qualified to do this. All this talk from Ashleigh about launching after graduation has my nerves on edge. She means to be encouraging, but she's scaring me to death.

The doorbell rings again. And again. They aren't going away. I stomp down the stairs, unlock the door, and throw it open, prepared to give the interrupter a piece of my mind.

"Hey there, pretty girl." His smile slowly fills his face, making his eyes light up. He scans me from head to toe, and his smile seems to grow. My ridiculous appearance must amuse him.

My hand immediately goes to my hair that is falling out of my messy bun, feeling if it's as bad as I think. It is. I'm not wearing a stitch of makeup, and I'm dressed in the most unflattering outfit I could put together. I realize his nickname of pretty girl has been a joke all along. Sadness creeps up, tears threatening to start again. Why am I crying now? I've never cried this much before, and it's making me mad, which is also a tear trigger for me. Wonderful.

"Hey." Brilliant. Great response.

He stops my hands from fretting and holds them in his. "Mind if I come in?"

"Sure, I guess." I step away from the door and try to pull away. He doesn't let go of my hands as he comes in and gently closes the door. His hands leave mine to slide up my arms to my shoulders and hold me securely in place. The warmth of his touch fills me, and even though I don't know why he's here, that tiny seed of hope grows a little more.

I take a deep breath, and my cheeks heat. I can't bear to look at him. I know my hope will betray the it's no big deal attitude I'm trying to portray. I focus on the floor, his running shoes, and my newer, almost broken in Chucks.

His hand brushes the loose strands of hair away from my face and tucks them behind my ear. His movement startles me, and I look from the floor to him. I'm confused. I mean, what the fuck?

His eyes search my face for the answer to the unspoken question we've been dancing around for weeks. Should we? Can we?

He leans down, and his breath tickles my ear, sending chills down my spine.

"You're all I can think about, Darcy. Day and night. I've dreamed about being able to kiss your perfect lips. Fuck, I'm so tired of fighting it. I don't know that I can anymore." His words are a cross between a confession and an apology.

He lifts my chin, and his lips gently brush against mine. It's sweet and tender. My sadness is erased, and I smile. He must take my response as consent because he deepens the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance, and I'm more than willing to return the favor. His hand goes behind my head, his fingers tugging at my hair, giving him a better angle to deepen our kiss.

This kiss doesn't even compare to my dreams. I am electrified from my toes to my temples. My heart skips a beat and finds a new rhythm. I relax into his body, feeling like he is the other half to making me whole.

My hands reach around his neck, my nails gently brush through the short hair on the back of his head as I pull him closer, and he moans into my mouth. The vibration wakes up my entire body. Our lips meld perfectly, and our tongues dance together, exploring each other with desperate kisses. My body tingles down to my toes, and every nerve ending is like a live wire.

This kiss is everything I've ever wanted. My life has reached its pinnacle. This is the best moment of my life.

He pulls away and places his forehead against mine. We both breathe deeply to catch our breath.

"Wow." I experienced the best kiss of my life, and that's all my brain can register. My ability to communicate left the building.

"Wow is right," he says. He gives me another chaste kiss and tucks my head below his chin as he embraces me.

Not looking at him gives me the courage to speak. "I don't want to overdramatize it, but that kiss was life-changing." My life will never be the same. That's a confession he deserves.

His arms squeeze me against his solid chest, holding me tight. "It was for me, too. But…" Shit. Here comes the part where he tells me it was a mistake. I'm a mistake. I try to pull away, but his hold is solid.

"Darcy, I don't know how to do this. I want to do right by everyone, you know." His tone is soft, the kindness emanating from every word. Still, there's a tinge of sadness. It's like he's about to tell a kid there's no Santa Claus.

He's letting me down easy. That's Matt. The good guy. Always caring about others, the ultimate teammate. He has to tell me I'm not worth the fallout. My insecurity flares. I step back, his hold loosens, and I turn around to walk upstairs and hide. My emotions swirl in my heart and head, sadness taking center stage. That's what happens when you reach the pinnacle. It's all downhill from here.

"That's okay, Matt. I get it." I can't ask him to pursue something that clearly makes him uncomfortable.

"Get what?" His gruff tone surprises me.

"Nothing," I mumble. "You've always been kind to me."

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm gonna need you to tell me what's going on in your pretty little head because we aren't on the same page here. Again."

No truer words were ever spoken. I take a deep breath and summon courage from the depths of my bones as I turn to look at him. "I get it. I pushed you to cross a line you aren't comfortable with. I'm sorry."

I walk past him to open the door so he can leave as he hooks me around the waist, pulling me back into his chest. "Yeah, definitely not on the same page," he mumbles as he kisses the top of my head. "I'm not sorry. Maybe a little guilty, but definitely not sorry. I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you at The Wreck. When I say I don't know how to do this, it's just unfamiliar territory for me." He pulls me in tighter, and I shiver. Could this be true? That seed of hope is growing and taking root.

I reach up, put my hands on his face, and pull him towards me. If he doesn't know how to do this, whatever this means, I will gladly volunteer as tribute. I kiss him again, letting the sweetness and apprehensiveness slip away, putting all my years of longing for him behind my lips. If he decides his guilt wins, I'm not going without a fight.

He returns my kiss, his hands exploring my body, shoulders, and waist. As they travel underneath my shirt, his hand rests on my side, his thumb gently stroking below my bra. Sensual goosebumps cover my body.

Our kiss stops time. I'm lost in our embrace, our tongues seeking pleasure as heat warms my core. I want to spend the rest of the day kissing Matt.

Who am I kidding? I want to spend a lifetime kissing him.