THE RIGHT ANSWER
Away from the school and her professors, with her blazer shrugged off and her heels exchanged for sneakers, it was sinking in.
She had done it. She was getting her master’s degree, was one step closer to plans she was chasing. She and Bram both.
“Let me take you home,” Bram said when they had both put down their spoons and chopsticks and emptied their tea. “You look like you’re ready to fall asleep.”
“I’m fine,” she said, slurring the way a drunk would deny inebriation.
Adrenaline was a finite resource, though her nerves remained aplenty, a light buzzing under her skin when Bram took her arm and led her out of the restaurant, his fingers brushing hers when he let go and they walked to his car.
She dragged her feet but her mind was alert, her face warm, her hands clammy in her pockets. Her resolution ringing in her ears.
“If it’s OK with you …” She began when they were within view of his waiting car. She felt his full attention on her, as was his normal, and went on.
“… how I can get overwhelmed. How I freak out under pressure sometimes, and need to take my time. If it’s OK that I like you and your brain and your stupid dimples and the way you smirk and the way you smile. If that’s OK …”
They had paused beside his car. Yvonne looked up to meet his gaze. He looked nervous, and she thought that was strange.
“Can I get another hot kiss?” she finished.
Bram looked like he was choking for a second. Then he managed a short laugh.
“This is how you proposition me?”
“You did it first.” She gave a shaky laugh in return, her cheeks burning. “I’m just taking my turn. I’m sorry, about that day and how it took me over a month but I—”
He shook his head, and in his eyes she saw nothing but fondness. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Then mischief, and on his face that stupid little cocky smirk. “So, you like me?”
She rolled her gaze away, embarrassment swallowing her now. “I thought you knew everything.”
And then there was his kiss, persistent on her mouth, tender and giving. His hands cradled her face, as if making sure she wouldn’t go away. Then her arms were winding around his neck, her fingers finding purchase in his hair, as she kissed him as if she had dreamed of this, as if this was the goal all along.
He pressed them against his car, his weight welcomed by her open arms. Yvonne could get used to this, the way he kissed her, the way he looked at her, how he rooted for her in ways she had trouble asking for. She would be the same for him.
Headlights shone in their direction, a car zooming past and honking.
Yvonne came up for air, clutching the collar of his jacket.
He was smiling, grinning like he knew it but he was also relieved.
“Take me home,” she said, finger drawing the curve of his cheek. “Your home.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Bossypants,” he gasped.
Then he was leading her to her side of the car, arms tight around her, dropping kisses along the way. “Whatever you want.”
The End
Jay E. Tria is an indie author with 12 published books (so far!) and is part of #RomanceClass, a community of Filipino writers and readers. She writes about band boys, beaches, travel and happy ever afters. Follow @jayetria on socials; visit jayetria.com.