Best Thing In Town

"This feels like a hurricane."

I avoid his eyes and kiss him on the lips again. "I know," I say after.

His soft smile turns into a wild smirk and he suddenly picks me up effortlessly, wrapping his arms under my thighs. I rest my wrists on top of each other behind his neck after I run a hand through his wet hair to remove some from his face. His eyes are dangerous and gleaming. His lips are sweet, but sour when he pulls away. And the way he is looking at me makes me feel light and dizzy.

"I'm sorry for keeping you in the rain." He speaks up after a few fleeting kisses.

I smoothly tangle my fingers into his hair. "No you're not."

The crinkles by his eyes give him away and he breathes out slowly. "You're right."

When we aren't kissing, I feel too vulnerable. I feel like a quivering ghost of a girl: if he passes his hand through me, I'll have no secrets left to keep. When we aren't kissing, my mind feels like a rock rolling roughly—slowly—in my head. It pounds. When we aren't kissing, all I think about is kissing him to make me feel solid, to make me feel calm.

"I want you to keep kissing me," I blurt out after staring at the single raindrop on his bottom lip for an aching amount of time.

He nods and I don't feel like such a ghost anymore.

As his lips move more fervently across my own, his feet begin to move toward the door. He is still carrying me without a problem and for a quick moment, I think I could get used to this and never have to walk anywhere again. When he manages to get the door open after a few kisses landing off course, we stand in the threshold. He pulls his lips away from me and I feel his eyes begging me to look at him. I see light circles around his eyes. I think of how beautiful he his but when I go to say it, my lips don't move.

"I'm going to keep kissing you." He is whispering.

I nod slowly before I hear my mouth say, "Okay."

"Is that okay?" With his voice speaking so gently and urgently, I know what he has in mind. And when I nod for a second time with wide, pleading eyes, he knows that I know.

He pats the bottom of my thighs with his hands lightly, ushering me to stand up. I reluctantly slide down and wobble a little when my feet feel the floor. He laughs at me adoringly under his breath before he tugs on my hand and wraps his fingers around my own. Instead of leading me to his room, he walks beside me. And that means everything.

The party is still in swing. Everyone is enjoying each other. And if they weren't friends a few hours ago, they were now as they all sit in the candlelit living room. I look over my shoulder to see Billie; because after not looking at him for a handful of seconds, I start missing him. I smile when I see he is smiling and that's enough, so I look back in front of me.

"I'm surprised no one is asking us why we're soaking wet," I say to him.

He squeezes my hand a little. "Maybe we're the only ones who notice."