““Rather than pulling away to walk back to the counter, he brings both his hands to my face and holds me still while he looks at me in silence for several seconds. His thumbs brush lightly across my jaw, and he releases a soft breath. His brows furrow, and his eyes close. He presses his forehead to mine, still holding on to my face, and I can feel his internal struggle. Tate. He says my name so quietly I can feel his regret in the words he hasnt even spoken yet. I like… He opens his eyes and looks at me. I like kissing you, Tate. I dont know why that sentence seemed hard for him to say, but his voice trailed off toward the end as though he was attempting to stop himself from finishing his words. As soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, he releases me and quickly steps around the partition as if hes trying to escape from his own confession. I like kissing you, Tate.””
