The Opposition

Chapter 33: Sadie

"Are you nervous?" Carter asks, trying to do up his tie, but, once again, failing, so I have to walk over and do it for him.

We're both standing in the middle of our hotel room half-dressed. I've finished my makeup and curled my hair into an elegant half-up half-down. Carter's changed into his black tux with a dark green tie, but his hair still sits messily atop his head from the lack of gel. I kind of like it that way. We have to leave in forty-five minutes by foot, and we've agreed to meet Felix and Gracie there because their debate partners think it's a better look if they show up as a team.

"Why do keep asking me that?" I question Carter, continuing to use my fingers to maneuver the silky material of his tie.

He shrugs. "I just can't seem to believe The Sadie Jones doesn't get nervous." I startle at the way he says my name, like it's an important title that I've been awarded.

"Well, do you get nervous?" I ask him, finishing up my work on his tie.

"You make me nervous," he says.

I look up at him, my voice barely coming out as a whisper, "I don't think that's true. You act just fine around me."

"Yeah, but it's not the physical kind of nervousness, where I can barely speak when you're around. You're actually pretty easy to talk to. It's more a kind of nervousness that when I talk to you, I'm trying to impress you. I'm scared of saying the wrong thing."

His confession surprises me. "You're pretty good at saying the right thing," I say, my voice is so faint that he has to lean down so his ear is closer to my mouth.

"Oh, yeah?" I see the corner of his mouth tilt up into a faint smile, flashing one of his dimples.

We're so close–our faces, our mouths. I can hear his shallow breathing and feel the heat from his minty breath. I don't know if I'm even breathing, but seeing as I can smell the fresh scent of his usual cologne, I think I am. One tilt of his head and his mouth will meet mine. And all I want him to do is kiss me. I don't care if it's a mistake. If it means nothing. I want him. I need him. Because, no matter how many times I try to deny it, that kiss in the rain has been on repeat in my head constantly since that night. I remember the taste of him, the feel of his hands on my body, the words he whispered into my ear, into the skin of my neck. And, God, do I want to experience that again.

This time, I kiss him first.

"A mistake?" He mumbles against my lips.

"A mistake," I confirm, nodding slightly with our lips still connected.

He parts his lips, deepening the kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to my level. We're both panting as he cups the bottom of my chin, pressing our mouths impossibly close together. Our tongues glide against each other and he catches my bottom lip between his teeth, causing me to moan into his mouth. He shudders as a response, sliding his hands under his shirt that I'm wearing and pushing my front against his so I can feel the effect that I am having on him.

"Getting worked up, Conners?" I smirk against his mouth, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him.

He pulls my hips forward, slamming them into his. "Yes," he breathes. "And it's all your fault."

I don't know who moves first, but, somehow, we manage to stumble backwards until the backs of Carter's legs hit the edge of the bed, and then he's falling back onto it, me on top, without our lips ever disconnecting. He moves his mouth down my throat while I grind my hips against his. My hands travel up the sides of his body, eager find the hem of his shirt and pull it up over his head. But when my fingers reach just above his belt, trying to untuck his shirt, I feel a row of buttons and the rigid material of a suit jacket.