“When I saw Richard Brighton, I looked into his car while he was in another building. He had flyers recruiting white folks. Like he’s rallying a hate group. Then this cross burning. Hear anything more from school?”

“No. You know people don’t talk to me. Do you think Chris did this?”

“Who else? Before, when we didn’t know who Richard was, it was between him and Chris, but now that we know it’s his uncle, there’s no other obvious suspects.”

Dean takes another heavy breath, resting his chin on my shoulder now. “We won’t find out tonight. Don’t let it control you.”

Tears escape. They travel down my cheek, and it’s getting too difficult to breathe normally.

Dean holds me. He touches my face, tracing his thumbs down to my neck and then back along my cheek. I watch him, knowing I won’t have to speak. I don’t want him to pull away. He has a glint in his eye, watching me. Tears are now pouring out. His thumbs can’t keep up, so he stops. The next tear trails down my face, and Dean kisses it away, then another.

I press into him as if I’m melting in his arms. He leans in to kiss me, and I don’t stop him.

His lips are gentle, soft. He kisses me again, and this time I respond. Careful to not go too far, not to risk one of us pulling away. Making up for all the moments we’d never had the courage, never had the chance, never sure if our feelings for each other would be returned.

Upstairs there’s a creaking noise, followed by a door opening, and we jump apart.

“It’s midnight. Your mom’s probably making sure I get back like I promised…”

“I know.” I hold back an embarrassed smile. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Dean takes my hand, making his way to our front door. Everything tells me Dean and I should only be friends. That’s what I’ve convinced myself over the years, but what if I’ve been wrong?

Dean opens the door, and at first I think he’s leaving, but then he pushes toward me and I’m pinned between the door and him. This time Dean doesn’t move to kiss me first. I tug on his shirt, and that must be all that he needs before he kisses me again. This time he’s not as gentle. And I’m not as fragile. This time he holds nothing back, rushing to me in desperate kisses. My body shaking, grateful for the door holding me up.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like this,” Dean says in hot, stuttering breaths.