"I can't remember what happened that night. I'm not talking slippery details or fuzzy-edged visions; I mean a complete and utter blackout. Like I wasn't even there. Except... I know I was."
Since the death of her boyfriend six months ago, Morgan Cai...
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After our first date, it didn't take long for Josh and I to become inseparable.
It surprised me how fast it happened. My past experiences with crushes involved months of pining after somebody, trying to work up the courage to strike up a conversation, and failing nine times out of ten. Not to mention hiding my disappointment when they showed an interest in somebody else. They always faded away before turning into anything real. It was an entirely new experience to tip the balance in the other direction, and to go about my day with the knowledge that somebody couldn't get enough of me.
He kept me on my toes, and that was part of his allure: a magnetic pull that kept me coming back for more. It was exhilarating to know there was so much of him to unravel; I felt like a child on Christmas morning, with all my unwrapped gifts splayed out around me. Though I told myself I was going to savor each one, drawing out the process so it would last as long as possible, it was hard to hold back from going in head over heels.
Mistake number one.
There were a couple of dates, plus all the times we saw each other at the volunteer group. Josh couldn't keep altering the schedule to ensure we were paired together—for one thing, Cat was getting suspicious—but our paths crossed enough times by chance. The more time we spent together, the more time I wanted to spend together.
Thankfully, Josh seemed to feel the same way.
One night several weeks after our date on top of the parking lot, we were hanging out in my dorm room, as we now did at least a couple of times a week. I hadn't asked, but Hanna had taken the initiative to make herself scarce. It was definitely a trade-off for the gossip she thought she'd get in return.
Josh and I had taken the serious step of starting a Netflix series together, so a couple of episodes meant two hours already spent cozied up on my bed, all tangled limbs and racing hearts. Sitting side by side turned to lying down and then my head was resting on his chest. His hand traced light circles on my arm and I could feel his breath against my hair, and I would've stayed like that forever if it were possible.
By the time the second round of credits rolled, there'd been too much careful shifting and lingering touches for a third to be on the cards. Josh moved, and I raised my head, and our eyes connected with a jolt that ran the length of my spine.
"Hey," he said, his lip curling.
"Hey," I said back.
His next words came only after a drawn-out silence, crafted for maximum anticipation. The question made my heart skip a beat. "What are you waiting for?"
"I don't know," I replied.
So I kissed him.
I liked the way he did things: putting me in control, letting me make the bold move, a safety net hanging slack over the terrifying crater of rejection. It let me experience a kind of power that otherwise would have appeared only months down the line. It let me slip, for a moment, into the person I wanted to be, without all the work it would take to get there.
