“Not true,” I say, matching his frustration. “I’m nothing but serious about this. I know this is risky. I know people are trying to kill me. I just don’t need to suffer over it until something’s actually happening or I’ll tense up and screw myself.”

His mouth opens and closes, like he doesn’t know what to say to me.

“And it definitely doesn’t help anything to have you mad at me,” I say.

“Mad at you? November, I’m not mad at you,” he says, and pauses. “I’m worried about you. I…” He looks away.

“What?” I say.

He makes eye contact with me. The butterflies I felt earlier return tenfold, and before I can reconsider what I’m doing, I take a step toward him.

The emotions on his face shift from frustration to desire and back again, like he’s having an argument with himself over me. “I care about you,” he says, and his voice is quiet. “I care what happens to you. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.” His words are slow and weighty. I get the sense that he hasn’t really cared about anyone in so long that he’s almost scared to admit it out loud, that caring for someone means so much responsibility that it’s overwhelming. He smiles a small heart-wrenching smile. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

For a split second he looks at my lips and I can see the question on his face.

My heart pounds and I stare at him, completely lost in his eyes. I want to tell him that I feel the same way, that I don’t know what it all means, and that this has never happened to me before. Instead I move closer.

He lifts a hand and gently brushes my cheek with the back of his fingers, sending a pleasant shiver down my neck. In turn, I reach out and place my palm against his chest. I can feel his heart under his linen shirt and it’s racing almost as fast as my own. He runs his finger over my bottom lip and slips his other hand behind my neck.

When his lips press into mine, it’s with such surprising emotion that a thrill pulses through me, weakening my knees. He pulls me toward him and my arms lift to wrap around his neck.

His hands move through my hair and onto my back and I press closer into him. All those times Emily talked about being knocked over by a kiss, I never understood, until now. Our connection is overwhelming, like a floodgate opening that I didn’t even know was there.

All at once he releases me before I can steady myself, and I’m left with a tingling body and no words. I blink at him in confusion.

There’s a beat of silence.