He studies me for a second, like he’s trying to decide if I’m telling the truth. He must decide I am, because eventually he nods, reaches for me again. And this time when he pulls me against him, he lowers his head and presses his lips to mine.
It’s different than the kiss we shared earlier, softer, gentler. But it reaches inside me all the same. Lights me up. Turns me inside out with everything I feel for him and everything I hope he’ll let himself feel for me.
But tonight isn’t about wishing for what might be. It’s for celebrating what is, so I lock that thought down deep inside me and hold on to Jaxon with everything I have. And everything I am.
The kiss lasts forever, the soft whisper of his mouth against mine, and still he pulls away too soon. Still I’m clutching at him, fingers tangled in his shirt, my body straining against his as I try desperately to hold him to me for just a little longer.
But when I finally let him go, when I finally open my eyes, the Jaxon staring down at me isn’t the one I’m used to seeing. There’s no regret in his dark eyes, no scowl on his face. Instead, he looks lighter, happier than I’ve ever seen him.
It’s a good look on him, one that has me breathless for a whole host of different reasons. I wonder if he feels the same way about me, because for several long seconds, we don’t move at all. We just stare at each other, eyes locked, breaths held, fingers entwined.
There’s a bubble of emotion inside me, and it grows with every second I get to look at him. Every second I get to touch him. It’s been so long since I’ve felt it that it takes me a few minutes to recognize it as happiness.
Eventually, he turns away, and the loss I feel is a physical ache inside me. “What are you doing?” I ask, watching as he rummages in his closet.
“Much as I love that dress, you need a hoodie,” he answers, pulling out a heavy fur-lined one from The North Face…in black, of course.
He slides my arms into the sleeves, zips it up. Pulls the hood over my head. Then he grabs the red blanket off the end of his bed and says, “Come on.”
He reaches a hand out to me, and I take it—how could I not? Right now, there isn’t anywhere I wouldn’t follow this boy.
And that’s before he pulls back the curtains that cover his window, and I get my first look at what’s waiting for us.
54
What Could
Possibly Be More
Interesting than
Kissing Me?
“Oh my God!” I gasp, all but running to the window. “Omigod! How did you know?”
“You’ve only mentioned them like, three different times,” he answers, sliding the window open and climbing onto the parapets before holding his hand out to me.
I follow him outside, my eyes glued to the sky spread in front of us. It’s lit up like one giant rainbow, the background an incredible, intense purple while swirls of periwinkle and green and red dance across it.
“The northern lights,” I breathe, so caught up in the incomparable beauty of them that I barely feel the cold…or Jaxon draping his super-warm blanket around me.
“So do they live up to your expectations?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind so that I’m snuggled up in the blanket and his arms.
“They’re even better,” I tell him, a little astonished at how intense the colors are and how fast the lights are moving. “I’ve only seen pictures before this. I didn’t know they’d actually move like this.”
“This is nothing,” he answers, pulling me closer. “It’s early yet. Wait until they really get going.”
“You mean there’s more?”
He laughs. “So much more. The higher the velocity of the solar winds hitting the atmosphere, the faster they dance.”
“And the colors are all about the elements, right? The green and red are oxygen and the blue and purple are nitrogen.”
He looks impressed. “You know a lot about the lights.”
“I’ve loved them since I was a kid. My dad painted a mural on my bedroom wall when I was seven. Told me he’d bring me here to see them one day.” I can’t help thinking about how he didn’t get to keep that promise. And about all the other promises that were lost when he was.
Jaxon nods and hugs me tighter. Then he turns me around so that I’m facing him. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do.” The answer is instinctive and comes from the deepest, most primitive part of me.
He knows it, too. I can see it in the way his eyes widen, feel it in the way his heart is suddenly thudding heavily against my own. “You didn’t even have to think about it,” he whispers, fingers stroking reverently down my face.
“What’s there to think about?” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. “I know you’ll take care of me.”
He closes his eyes then, rests his forehead against mine for a few moments before taking my mouth with his.
He kisses me like he’s starving for me. Like his world depends on it. Like I’m the only thing that matters to him.
I kiss him right back the same way, until I can barely breathe and the colors behind my eyes are brighter than the aurora borealis. Until it feels like I’m flying.
“Maybe I should have asked if you’re afraid of heights,” Jaxon murmurs after a few minutes, his lips still pressed against mine.
“Heights? Not really,” I answer, sliding my hands through his hair and trying to get him to kiss me again.
“Good.” He moves my right hand until it’s at my throat, so that I’m able to keep the blanket around me by clutching both corners in one fist. “Hold on to that blanket.”
And then he grabs my left hand and spins me out fast and sharp, like they used to do in those old-time swing dances.
I gasp at the fast, jerky movement—and the fact that through it all, I can’t feel the ground beneath my feet. Then scream a few seconds later as I get my first good look at the sky since Jaxon started to kiss me.
We’re no longer on the parapet looking up at the northern lights. Instead, we’re floating at least a hundred feet above the top of the castle, and somehow it feels like we’re right in the middle of the aurora borealis.
“What are you doing?” I demand when I can finally get the words out past the terrified lump in my throat. “How are we flying?”
“I think floating is a better description of what we’re doing,” Jaxon tells me with a grin.
“Flying, floating. Does it matter?” I clutch his hand with all my might. “Don’t drop me.”