“It’s not just food. It’s chocolate. That’s like the holy – Tanner, what is… really?” Her voice escalates in excitement and then laughter as she pulls two kid-sized bottles of bubbles from the bag.
She glances over to me again, and I can feel the look she gives me along every single inch of my skin causing the part of me that second-guessed the bottles to vanish. The look is raw and real and vulnerable and accepting and so many other things I stop trying to analyze because right here, right now, I have an absolutely gorgeous woman sitting beside me, enamored with the silly little touches I added to the date, and so there’s no need to question a damn thing. I’m just going with it.
“Bubbles,” she says softly. “I haven’t opened a bottle since I was a kid. But I used to love to sit in the front yard blowing them and watch the breeze take them up in flight, and see just how far they could go before they popped. Do you have any idea how cool it is you bought these for me?”
“I wanted us to take tonight to enjoy the little things.” I shrug as she reaches out to squeeze my hand. “Besides, no one will ever regret the time they spend blowing bubbles.”
“Never,” she whispers softly before breaking the moment and looking away, almost as if she’s afraid I’ll look too deeply inside her and see the feelings written all over her face.
She opens the bottle as I finish pouring the wine, and by the time I’ve handed her a glass, she’s blowing a blizzard of bubbles around us. We dig into the cheese and chocolate, all smiles even though we are in a fierce battle, first over who can blow the biggest bubble and then who can get a bubble to travel the farthest before it pops.
“Yes! See! Mine is definitely bigger!” I raise my arms in triumph as her laughter booms around me.
“I guess I’m a lucky woman then since yours is the biggest,” she says sarcastically. Glancing over, I spot a small bubble still on the top of her hair.
“Lucky you,” I murmur as I reach out to cup the side of her face, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. But deep down I know I’m the lucky one. Hands down. I lean forward to show her just that – that her being here with me is so much more than a mere consequence of workplace attraction that will fade when the assignment ends – and brush my lips against hers.
Our kiss deepens, then lingers as we pour all of the emotions we feel into it. I lean back some, prop myself up on an elbow, and brush the hair away from her cheek as I stare into her eyes. There are so many things I want to say, so many things I want to confess and need her to know, but the words die on my tongue because all I can think of is, how in the hell did I find this incredible woman in this hellish place?
“Tanner?” she murmurs with lips swollen from my kisses and with a desirous expression in her eyes.
“Hmm?” Her body is so warm and inviting that I’m more focused on the feel of her against me than on what she’s going to say next.
“I’ve fallen in love with you. How are you going to handle that one?”
All I can do is stare at her as my heart tumbles in my chest and every nerve ending in my body reacts viscerally to her words. I don’t know what the fuck this feeling is, but I know the sound of those words being said to me scares me and exhilarates me like never before. I just sit there, my face inches from hers as a slow, smug smile tugs up the corners of my mouth. The words to echo her admission stall on my lips.
“Hmm, I think we need to blow more bubbles,” I say with a resolute nod of my head, and I flash her a smile.
“Bubbles?” she says, obviously taken aback by my response.
“Yep, bubbles. Because that means nothing has changed from a few minutes ago except now I finally know this is real between us. That what I see in your eyes and how you look at me is real. That what I feel is real.” I drop my head down for a minute, totally blown away by the moment, by the surge of inexplicable emotions within me. “Beaux… I… I…”
My voice fades off because for the slightest of seconds Stella’s comment flickers through my mind. About how when the love I feel is real, I won’t be so quick to say the words back to someone. It turns out that she was absolutely fucking right. When you really mean it, you don’t want the other person to think you said it out of obligation.
As I continue attempting to speak, to untangle myself from the asshole I feel like while I’m stuttering and falling flat, I need to make sure she doesn’t take my reaction the wrong way. It’s not that I don’t feel the same, because I do. It’s just that I don’t even know what to say or how to react, and it’s pretty damn hard to figure out when your heart is racing out of control and your mind is thinking of possibilities.
But she doesn’t let me talk. She just presses a finger against my lips and shakes her head. “I don’t want you to respond. I just want you to kiss me,” she whispers.
So I do the only thing I can. I kiss her. But not just any kiss. I take everything I feel inside and try to express it with the tenderness and reverence of my touch. And just as her fingers thread through my hair and my hand finds its way beneath her tank top, my phone disrupts the rooftop’s silence.
We both groan, but at the same time the distinct ring tells me it’s Sarge, and a quick glance at the face of my phone tells me my assumption is correct.
“What is it with him and his awful timing?” I mutter as I lift my phone to my ear, recognizing that it’s the second time he’s interrupted us. “Sarge,” I say in the way of hello to also let Beaux know I didn’t break the moment up between us over something unimportant.