Stealing his line from when I crashed his party earns me a chuckle. I push past him into my bedroom and get dressed quickly. If yesterday was anything to go by, I know he’s going to be out of the door in a few minutes and I want to be there when he leaves this time. For some reason, it seems important to say goodbye to him.

“I’ve gotta get going,” he calls out to me as I’m leaving the bedroom. He’s already at the front door. Was he waiting for me? I want to wrap my arms around him, give him a great big goodbye kiss, but I can’t bring myself to step any closer to him.

“Okay,” I squeak out from the doorframe of the bedroom. He doesn’t leave. We’re standing there staring at each other in some sort of awkward standoff. Austin sets down his bag and lets out a sigh.

“Come here.”

“Okay.” I keep my eyes locked on his as I stalk across the room to him. There’s a friskiness in the way he’s leering at me. I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. When I reach him, he wraps me in his strong arms and pulls my body flush against his.

“I need to go,” he murmurs into my neck as he peppers me with wet kisses.

“Okay.” I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access. I wrap my hands around his hard biceps, not letting him pull away.

“Elizabeth, you’re not making this very easy. In fact, you’re making this very hard.” His voice is sizzling and his touch scorching.

Burn, baby, burn.

“Okay,” I whimper as his lips claim mine. Our kiss is more than passionate. It’s intimate. Austin kisses me like he knows every part of me. Every dirty secret. Every insecurity. Every bad memory. Every embarrassing mistake. And it’s all okay. When he finally pulls away, I feel safe and accepted.

“I’ll see you tonight?” It comes out a question, like he’s unsure.

“Okay,” is my original response.

I’m Shakespeare.

Austin gives me a quick kiss on the forehead, grabs his bag and heads out of the door. Even after he leaves, I can’t stop the fluttering in my stomach.

Austin didn’t exactly agree to be my friend, but he answered my questions. He opened up to me and that has to mean something. Plus, he agreed to come to my father’s this weekend. We may not be together, but we’re friends. Or at least on our way to being friends.

I think.

I hope.

* * * *

I can’t get Austin out of my head. I’m obsessing over every single second we’ve spent together, searching for hidden meaning. Looking for proof of something deeper growing between us.

Stop it. You’re going to make a fool of yourself.