And everything starts again.

Everything.

Only this time, it’s amplified.

My breaths.

Her touch.

My pulse.

Her kiss.

Because she’s kissing me.

From my neck to my jaw, and I meet her half way—but the second my mouth is on hers and the softness and the warmth of her lips invade all my senses, I freeze. I sit there, my mouth on the hottest girl I’ve ever and possibly will ever see and I choke.

Literally choke.

I cough into her mouth and she pulls back, her nose scrunched, only for a moment before her eyes widen and she grabs a bottle of water from her bag and I’m thumping my chest, my eyes watering and seriously, fuck my life.

She uncaps the water and hands it to me; the surprise on her face replaced with concern as she slowly rubs my back.

I close my eyes, too embarrassed to face her as I drink and drink and drink like the water is more important than air because in this moment it is.

“Are you okay?” she asks as soon as I’m done.

I burp.

Right in her face.

Fuck, I’m a class act.

“Run, Becca.”

“What?” she says through a chuckle.

“Seriously, run. I’m a mess.”

“No you’re not,” she whispers, her eyes soft and her smile wide. She laughs a little and I can’t help but laugh with her.

I chuck the empty bottle on the floor of the car. “It’s just… it’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this and I’m a wreck and you—you’re so intimidating.”

“I’m intimidating?” she asks incredulously.

“Well, yeah,” I tell her, still not facing her. “Have you seen you, Becca? Your beauty alone is intimidating and just the thought of kissing you…”

“Josh,” she whispers, her hand on my shoulder turning me to her. “No one’s ever said I was beautiful before.”

“Clearly, you’re surrounding yourself with either the blind, the stupid, or the pathetic. I’m the pathetic.”

“Stop it. It’s no big deal. It was just a kiss, right?”

I shake my head, avoiding eye contact. “That’s the thing, though. I want to kiss you, Becca. You have no idea how much and how often I’ve thought about it and I never ever dreamed that you’d—”

“Throw myself at you?” she cut in.

“No. I was going to say give me the chance to.”

“So what happened just now?” she asks, and a part of me wonders why it seems so out of character for her to be confident in the situation when I’m a mess, but I push it aside because she’s actually talking to me.

She’s talking and she’s letting me touch her and I’m pretty sure nothing else matters. “I freaked out. Obviously. It’s just I know how fast things can escalate and kissing isn’t just kissing. Kissing leads to touching and touching leads to sex and sex is frightening as fuck for me.”

“Why?”

“You’ve met my son, right?”

She smiles. “Okay. I get it.”

“That’s what frightening sex leads to. At least in my mind. It’s years of diaper changes and months of potty training and finding peas in underwear and dirt in pillow cases and freaking out over every cough and every sneeze and—”

She clamps her lips between her teeth, fighting to contain her laugh.

“You think it’s funny?” I ask, finally facing her. I look at her now, right into her eyes, and raise my eyebrows.

After placing her hands on my chest, she whispers, “I just really wanted you to kiss me.”

“And that’s the other thing—why is it always up to the guy—”

She fists my shirt and pulls me closer, cutting me off. And then she leans up and kisses me. Holy shit, does she kiss me. Properly. Not the shit version of a kiss I attempted. Her mouth covers mine, her wet lips moving across my lips. Just once. And then her tongue repeats the process and, fire truck, I give in to her and her kiss and her hands and her everything. I take everything she gives, returning it as best I can. Time slows, but my pulse doesn’t and when she pulls back slightly—gasping for breath—I take the opportunity to hold her closer and kiss across her jaw, down her neck and to her shoulder. Her hands move to the back of my head, her fingers lacing in my hair and I’ve never ever felt anything sexier in my entire life. “Maybe…” she says through a shaky breath. I jerk back so I can look at her but all I can see is her chest heaving up and down, up and down, and my gaze locks on her cleavage because BOOBS! “Maybe you’re right… about kissing leading to other things. I think maybe we should stop and get out of here.”

I open my door and get out. She follows. I pull out two boards from the toolbox and drop them by her feet. “You want to practice some more?”

She nods and steps on the board. I stand behind her, my arms out straight by her sides, like we did the day before. Only this time, she grabs my wrists and places my hands on her hips. She smiles when she tilts her head up and looks at me. I kiss her quickly.

I can’t not.

“Now I’m ready,” she says.

So I kick.

And I push.

8

-Joshua-

“How the hell did we forget the sand?” I say through a laugh, staring at the empty sandpit and all the toys that go with it.

“But I wanted to play in my sandpit,” Tommy whines.

I check the time. “Everything’s closed now, bud. It’s almost bed time for you and you haven’t even had dinner.”

“But I wanted to play in my sandpit,” he says again.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Tommy. All the sand shops are closed.”

“But I wanted—”

“I know, buddy. We can get it tomorrow. “

“But you said I could play today!”

“I know I said that but—”

He starts to cry.

I thump my hand on my forehead.

Becca pouts.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell her.

She looks down at Tommy and back up to me and pouts again.

“What can I do?”

She steps closer, not touching me, but close enough so I can hear her whisper over his cry. “He’s so sad.”

“Well—”

“You did tell him.”

“You’re not helping me right now.”

She pouts again and goes to Tommy, squatting down so she can hold him. “But Daddy said,” he cries, and I roll my eyes.

Becca rubs his back and whispers in his ear. I don’t hear what she says but it doesn’t seem to calm him and now they’re both looking at me with their sad, pleading eyes and stupidly adorable pouts.

“Fine!” I shout, and point to the sandpit. “Get the buckets and shovels and get back in the truck!”

I start walking to my apartment.

“Where you, Daddy?” Tommy shouts.

“Getting trash bags!”

When I get back in the truck, Tommy’s already buckled in and Becca’s sitting in the middle of the front seat. “Where are we going?” she asks, trying to hide her smile.