Lenore almost had everything she wanted.
In just a few short months, she'd graduate early from high school, start an internship at her father's new startup in San Francisco, and then head off to college in the fall on a full scholarship. Everything...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Silence hung over Victor and Lenore as they walked down the suburban streets. Every few feet, Lenore would shoot him a look from the corner of her eye, wondering when he was going to say something. He was the one who had requested to walk with her, after all. It was his bomb to drop.
She forced her eyes forward again, rubbing her lips together. She hated not knowing what he was going to say. Waiting was worse than the impact.
She also didn't understand how he wasn't freezing. She was wearing the waterproof shell of her winter jacket and still, she was shivering, but he was only wearing a hoodie. It was a light heather green and complimented the olive tones of his skin.
He must run warm, she figured.
But that thought only made the aching in her chest worse. Thinking of his warmth made her think of his skin and what it'd feel like to touch it. She wondered how'd feel to graze her fingers against his arm where he'd pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie.
But then she remembered that she'd never get to do that and her heart felt heavy all over again.
"Sooo," Victor said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence. They had made it to the edge of the cul-de-sac. The gate to Lenore's driveway was just ahead.
This is it, Lenore thought, bracing herself. "Yeah?"
She expected him to stop and turn to her, ready to leave her at the gate to limp home on her own. But instead, he kept walking, right up to the gate. He pushed on it—her mother now left it unlocked for her—and held it open for her to pass through.
Lenore eyed him as she passed. When he was going to spit it out?
Victor seemed to be struggling with it. He avoided her gaze and kept rubbing at his neck. His face was red again, redder than could be attributed to the chill in the air.
"So," he began again. "Your family has been in this town for a while, huh?"
That was not what Lenore was expecting.
"Uh, I guess," she said, reeling. "But what does that have to do with anything—"
Her boots hit a weird divet in the rocky driveway and her ankle rolled. She toppled forward with a cry.
"Easy!"
Victor grabbed her just in time to prevent her from falling face-first into the gravel.
"Thanks," she muttered. Her heart began to race as she realized that Victor's hand had looped around her wrist, his skin on hers.
Just like she thought, he did run hot. Lenore wanted to pull him closer, wrapping her arms around him, and taste his warmth for herself.
But Victor yanked his hand back as she'd burned him. Judging by the tension in his shoulders and the worry in his features, he regretted touching her.
