A painful ache lodges in my throat, and a stir of sickness quivers in my stomach. I bend down and grab my bottle of water. Samantha sits up and yawns. “How long was I asleep?”
“A couple of hours,” I say as I unscrew the lid on the water. “We’re nearly back at school.”
“Shit. I need to text Mum to pick me up. Do you need a ride?”
“No, I’m fine. My mum is picking me up,” I say, because I don’t want Samantha to know where I live and then show up unannounced and step into the chaos.
“Ah, I can finally send those clips to Dylan.”
I smile as I glance at my phone and go into messages, hoping maybe I accidentally clicked into it, or the phone didn’t vibrate, and there’s a message from Conner.
Nothing.
I should send him a message first. No, I’ll leave it. Perhaps the message before I left was too much for him to process, and he needs this time to think things through. Conner said he would see me this Monday. Does that mean he will also speak to me on Monday?
Frustrated, I chew the inside of my cheek.
What if something happened to him? He had a car accident while going back home because he was too tired after dropping me off at school early. So many possibilities come to mind to the extent that my thumb hovers over the call button as I wonder if I should take the initiative.
But then, what if he’s all right, and all I’m doing is disturbing him?
I don’t know what to do.
An hour later,and we’re back at school. I pocket my phone and wait for the girls at the back to leave first. After they do, I grab my bag, as well as Samantha’s.
I’ll call Conner while I’m walking home.
There.
It’s decided.
I step off the bus and face Samantha. I will wait until her mum comes first before I leave the premises.
“Oh, man. I can’t wait until…” Samantha stops talking, her eyes focused behind me.
“What?” I turn around and look up.
“Noya,” he breathes.
“Conn—” His hand glides across my jaw, and his mouth finds mine. I drop the bag, and my eyes widen in surprise before they close, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders. Conner’s other hand touches my waist to keep me balanced as I lean back from how intense the kiss is. His mouth moves with mine, and he tastes like air and mint—heavenly.
Rushing feelings pulse to life, and my fingers lace through his brown hair as the kiss deepens. With it, my legs give out, and Conner’s broad arm is all that keeps me from fainting.
This is better than any kiss I maladaptive daydreamed about.
So much more.
As we break away, breathlessly close still, as if curiously wanting another, but I say, “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Conner answers as his thumb glides across my cheekbone. Hazel eyes gaze at me, unable to look away. “What you wrote—I…” Conner smiles. “I missed you, Noya.”
“Conner, I missed you, too.”
I lean into him, and our mouths collide. Everything I thought about on the bus ride back here, on the camping trip, and when I sent that text message—all these worries dissolve within a singular, passionate breath.
33
PICTURES