NOTE: “Matthew Hammond” has been changed to “Patrick Hammond”. I didn’t want any confusion between this Matt and the Matt that JC’s girlf was cheating on him with in “Turn”. Got it? It hasn’t been corrected in chapters 1 and 2 yet but will soon.
Since I haven't gotten to do the DevsNotes for this story yet and I know it's been forever since I've updated, let me give you a really quick run down of what's been going on: JC and Kat are all lovey-dovey, Her therapist is worried about her, Kat met a new "friend"- Lynn- and planned on foisting her off on Kevin to keep him occupied, Patrick is an ass... I think that's it... Look for DevsNotes on this story soon.
Chapter Six
The Haven Hotel was little more than a four-story roach motel with a continental breakfast. The wallpaper was stained and the carpets were matted. The furniture looked like it’d been obtained at a garage sale in 1972 and the staff consisted of an 83-year-old Venezuelan maid who, despite having been the country 47 years and counting, refused to speak English, and a large Brooklyn-Italian “concierge” who looked like a rejected extra from the Sopranos. The guests were an eclectic mix of struggling artists, aging run-aways, working girls at an hourly rate, and those who just didn’t want to be found.
There was one more category that pretty much everyone fit into. Everyone at the Haven Hotel had something to hide.
Jaclyn Nissel was no different.
She laid flat on her back, legs dangling off the side of the bed at the knees. She regarded the chipped and cracked plaster of the ceiling with disgust, reminding herself that this was only a stepping-stone.
Jaclyn was by no means strapped for cash. She could have easily stayed somewhere where she wouldn’t have to fight for control of the remote with a daddy-long-legs the size of match car. But as much money as she had, there was a finite amount to her savings. She didn’t know how long this would take or how far her resources would have to stretch.
Things were moving along quite nicely. It hadn’t been hard to find out that the guys were in New York. She still had some well-placed connections at WEG. The past week had been very informative. Kathryn McBride; 19; Sophomore at Columbia University; met JC through a friend of Joey’s just about a month before. Getting into Columbia’s online registrar to get Kat’s schedule had been easier than she thought it would be, taking her 13-year-old computer geek cousin only a few minutes to hack in. She contemplated registering herself while she was in there but that could have been a traceable fraud and Jaclyn wasn’t ready to go to jail over this. Besides, no one would notice an extra face in Kat’s bigger classes.
But Kat had noticed. Jaclyn saw it all over her face when they saw each other for this first time before class started. Jaclyn wasn’t unprepared. A basic back story always did the trick, buying her enough time to coming up with the details needed to successfully pull off a good lie.
It was a shame, really. Kat seemed to be a genuinely nice person. Jaclyn enjoyed their conversation and caught herself several times forgetting what she’d come there to do. Kat was smart, funny, beautiful. Of course JC would fall for her. What shook her back to reality had been the phone call. There was no doubt in Jaclyn’s mind who’d been on the other end.
It was almost cute. It was like looking at a child and remembering what it was like to have that innocence and simplicity. Kat had the look that was singular to being in love with JC. Jaclyn knew it well and fought the urge t expose her new “friend” when she had denied it.
Jaclyn was shaken from her reverie when her cell phone rang. Wary of who it could be, she dug into her bag and checking the number. She didn’t recognize it but answered anyway, her trademark curiosity getting the best of her.
“Hello?”
“Hi, can I speak to Lynn, please,” an unfamiliar male voice questioned.
“Speaking…”
“Um, this is Kevin, Kat’s friend. She—”
“Hi, Kev,” she smiled smugly. “Kat said you’d give me a call.”
“Yeah, she said you might be looking for a tour guide?”
“Sure am.” Things were moving along quite nicely.
Kat was shaken out of her sleep by the shrill ring of her telephone. Bleary-eyed, she fumbled to turn her bedside clock around to see the time. 4:30. “You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse from one of the deepest sleeps her mind had ever allowed her body to slip into.
She strained her eyes against the darkness seeing an empty bed across the room. She struggled to clear her fuzzy head— finally remembering that Jordan was staying in Jersey that night for Greg’s mother’s birthday party.
The phone continued ringing as Kat stumbled across the room, too intent on silencing the unbearable digitable squeal of the phone to wonder why the machine hadn’t picked up.
“Hello?”
“Kat! What took you so long to pick up, love?”
The unmistakable British tint to the voice on the other end of the line was unsurprising to Kat.
“Mom? It’s 4:30 in the damn morning.”
“Is it? Bloody time zones. I swear it’s too much for me to even bother with, sometimes.”
With a bated sigh, Kat sat down on the floor, propping herself up against Jordan’s bed. “So what’s up, Mom?”
“Nothing really. Just wanted to hear my daughter’s voice is all. It’s been… well how lo—”
“Two months, mom. It’s been two months.”
“Well, there you go. So how are things going for you? How’s school? Third year, huh? You’re getting so old!”
Madeline McBride’s voice was earnest, almost pleading. It was the way it usually sounded when she and Kat had these little transatlantic chats. It was for that reason that Kat could never bring herself to resent her mother. She knew her mother loved her. She also knew that her mother was battling her own demons and just couldn’t handle Kat’s as well. She knew Madeline hated herself for it and she knew these calls were made in desperation— desperate attempts to be assured that Kat didn’t hate her too.
“It’s my second year, mom,” she corrected gently. This is the way they interacted now. Kat couldn’t bear not to comfort the anguish her mother so often found herself swimming in. “Not too old yet then, eh?”
She could almost hear the sad smile creep across her mother’s face. “No, not to old.”
James Campion sat in the hotel dining room, enjoying a cup of coffee, the New York Times, and a rare moment of silence. Unfortunately, the only thing he could do with this rare moment was worry about JC. In the studio, the boy’s commitment was clear. No one worked harder or was more of a perfectionist. Every note, every subtle tweak was carefully crafted until he was satisfied. Even when Kat came to visit during a session, he kept his composure and attention focused on the task at hand. But the way he looked at her was unmistakable. James wondered if he’d said the words yet.
James wanted JC to be happy— he wanted all the boys to be happy. But JC was beginning to throw caution to the wind: sneaking away without telling anyone, turning ten minute breaks into forty-five, not thinking about where his is when he’s with Kat— the public displays of affection were starting to show up the press— and staying up all night either with Kat or talking to her. The list could go on forever.
“Gotta be thinking about Romeo and Juliet.”
James exhaled, clearly frustrated, but did not look up. He didn’t have to. The voice was as recognizable and it was grating to James’ ears. Patrick slid into the seat across from his clearly irritated superior.
“Well, am I right?”
James still didn’t’ bother to look up, scanning the headlines of the New York Times on the table before him. “Good morning, Patrick.”
“Yeah, I’ve been giving this relationship some thought, myself. It my not be as bad as it could be. I mean its not like we’re talking about Timberlake professing his undying love for Spears. But it worries me just the same.”
“Well, it is impressive that you’ve managed to get the rusty gears in your head turning well enough to enable you to think in the first place. But when it comes down to it, JC is his own man. He can see any girl he so chooses.”
“You may have deluded yourself into actually believing that but I’m certainly not going to put my job on the line because some kid is under the impression his life is his own.”
“You better watch your step, Hammond,” James warned, finally looking up. “I wouldn’t worry yourself about JC putting your job at risk because your attitude is doing that fairly effectively already. Johnny loves these guys like sons and while he does have the bottom line on his list of priorities, he wants them all to be happy. That is the only attitude that is going to get you anywhere at WEG. Eventually they are going to cease being amused with pissing you off. When that time comes, you will be a phone call away from packing your bags and heading back to Gold Springs, Ohio or whatever West Bumble-Fuck town you came from.”
Patrick appeared to be unfazed by James’ cautionary diatribe. He leaned back in his seat and smiled serenely at his boss. “I was just trying to warn you. There’s a media frenzy coming. I can smell it. It’s like a sixth sense.”
“No,” James said casting his gaze back to the paper, “that would be one of the five.”
Friday, 8, October, 1999
Dear No one In particular,
I’m sitting in Beth’s, curled up in a chair that isn’t mine. Well, I guess the chair I like to call mine isn’t really mine at all but the proprietor of Beth’s— a woman who’s name isn’t Beth but Darla. Darla Raritan. I’ve never seen Darla before but Caroline tells me to stick with whatever image I have of Beth in my head or else I may never come back. Have I always run on like this?
Anyway, my chair has been removed to make room for a performance area. There is a Poetry Slam going on not ten feet from me. Open mic poetry competition. Gotta love it. Someone is reciting a poem called “Beach Bucket of Dreams”. The kid is good and the poem isn’t as cheesy as one would think from the title. “I am a full blooded half-breed,” he says. The plays on words are incredible— his smile has something behind it— it’s mischievous— he knows he’s clever.
I wonder if any of this will make Sheridan’s head cock— make her adjust her glasses— make her make me look her in the eye. Make her make me talk about things I haven’t thought about in weeks. I haven’t thought about them because I’ve pushed them aside to make room for the closest thing I’ve had to happiness since my head started its little civil war. Maybe she’ll keep of JC for one damn session. Maybe not.
JC. Do I even want to go there right now? Shit, that reminds me… we’re all supposed to be going out to dinner tonight. First time me and my friends and him and his. Other than the fact that Joey still fears Jordan from that first day we met he and JC at the Hard Rock, it should go well. Dinner and then we’re going to Webster Hall. God I haven’t been to a club since
“Oh My God!! I didn’t think I’d see you here!”
Kat’s scribbling was cut short by the familiar voice. Looking up, she fought the urge to scrunch her face in annoyance. “Lynn,” she smiled laying her pen in the crease of her journal and closing it over.
“I thought you said you didn’t like this place.”
“Oh, well,” Think fast. “I came for the slam night,” she explained motioning to the section of the coffee house where “Carl” was reading a poem from a wrinkled napkin.
“Oh,” Lynn smiled, seemingly accepting the explanation. She moved to sit in the seat beside Kat which had only been vacant in the crowded, smoky room because of the intense solitary vibe her curled, scribbling figure gave off.
Kat didn’t dislike Lynn. Kat didn’t know Lynn. Kat just had very little room left in her life for much of anything, let alone a Lynn.
“Yeah, I’ve never seen one of these before,” Lynn continued pulling her bag from her shoulder. Kat only nodded, unsure of what else to say. “So what is that? Like a journal or something?”
To make Kat more uncomfortable at that moment took a big leap but Lynn had taken it in stride. “Or something,” Kat smiled. “So, did Kevin ever call you?” She was anxious to change the subject to just about anything other than her.
“Oh yeah, last night. We went to lunch today. You were right; he is nice. And cute. That boyfriend of yours must be really something if you and Kevin never… well… ya know.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, Lynn,” Kat insisted.
“Oh, riiiight… I forgot,” Lynn fained understanding. “Anyway, he’s going to give me the grand tour this weekend.”
“Well, that’s good. Make sure he takes you to all the good spots— and tell him I said so,” Kat kidded.
“I’m sure that’s all it would take, too,” Lynn agreed, knowingly.
“Umm, what does that mean?” Kat replied, trying not to get defensive.
“I’m just saying that our boy, Kevin, seems to think awfully highly of you,” Lynn answered calmly.
“Well, we are friends,” Kat reasoned, flashing back on the night she’d made the same defense to Erin on the Street outside Flannery’s.
“C’mon, Kat,” Lynn shook her head. “You may be dead set on denying you have a boyfriend when it was so obvious that day in the diner… but you have to admit how obvious it is that Kevin would like the aforementioned position in your life.”
“Lynn, I know you’re just making conversation but I really have my fill over overly perceptive friends intent on dragging admissions of some kind from me. Kevin may have a crush but I’m not interested in him like that. That’s just how it is.”
With that, Kat closed the subject and five minutes later she excused herself so she could go get ready for dinner and make sure Jordan was doing the same. She didn’t see the subtle smirk passing over Lynn’s features. Ms. Nissel might have found her angle.
“You are so full of shit, Ethan,” Kat laughed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s incredible just how full of shit you actually are.”
“You’d like to think that little girl,” Ethan challenged leaning in and resting his elbows on the table. “The truth is, you know it, I know it, the whole of the Columbia Players know it, and now Nsync knows it too.”
“I’m not an actress, Ethan. I hate to break it to you,” Kat asserted with a dismissive shake of her head.
“You keep saying that and I won’t cast you in my film.”
“I’ve already ‘starred’ in your home-spun cam-corder ‘features’,” Kat scoffed. “I believe “Portrait of Ethan’s Little brother’s First Day at School’ was my best work.”
“Noooo…” Ethan pushed himself up off his elbows and leaned back in his seat. Folding his arms over his chest and fitting his expression to Kat’s, he mirrored her completely. “I’m not talking about home movies, Kathryn.”
She narrowed her eyes, shooting him daggers at the use of her full name. The rest of the table— the boys, Erin, Jordan, James, Mel and three other security guards Kat could never remember the names of— sat in utter amusement at the scene unfolding before them.
“I’m talking about my film.”
“Ohhh… The screenplay you’ve been working on for the past ten years. Yeah. Whenever you finish that baby, you go right ahead and cast me, chief. Just make sure it’s a geriatric-type role. You may have to check with the nursing home and make sure I’m up to it.”
Ethan grinned from ear to ear before slapping his hands on the table, pushing his chair out and rising slowly from his seat. His hand swooped down unceremoniously, grabbing his wine glass and ignoring the questioning looks of his dining companions. He raised the glass up to eye-level and finally spoke. “You all heard her. You’re all witnesses. Lady Kathryn has promised to be in my movie when the script is finished.”
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Kat said, realizing what Ethan had been getting at.
“A toast! To my very first leading lady,” Ethan declared majestically.
“You finished it?” Joey coughed, unable to mask his shock.
“I finished it,” Ethan beamed.
A din of congratulations and glasses clinking rose across the table. Kat sat stunned, mouth gaping, waiting for Ethan to assure her he was kidding— whether kidding about finishing his script or kidding about his desire for her to be in it, it didn’t matter.
JC leaned over, tipping her chin to close her mouth. “You’re gonna catch flies, sweetie,” he chuckled.
“Kat, smile! You’re gonna be a star,” Ethan grinned. “An indie star, but a star nonetheless.”
“C’mon Kat,” Justin nudged her. “You’ve got the looks, the talent… the looks…”
“What I think Curly is trying to say in his own freaky Timberfro dialect,” Lance interrupted, “is that you have what it takes and this could be a once in a lifetime experience. Take it from any of us, you gotta snatch those up where you can.”
“Yeah, c’mon Kat. Don’t you want to help me realize my vision?” Ethan quipped before turning serious. “I don’t just want you to be in it, I’m going to need all kinds of crazy help. Fund raising—”
“Are you asking me to ask Andrew?” Kat questioned incredulously.
“No! No,” Ethan countered quickly. “No, Kat. I would never ask you to ask you’re dad for money.”
“Then what?”
“Well, we’ll get into the details later on. You can read the script; see what you think. I’ll give it to you at rehearsal tomorrow night.”
“No can do Ethan,” JC interjected. “I’m kidnapping Kat tomorrow night.”
“Pardon?” Kat coughed.
“Nuh uh, JC. Rattner will flip out if she’s not there. Kat, you know he’ll flip out and it’s going to be me he’ll flip out on.”
“Calm down, Ethan,” Kat rolled her eyes. “I can’t miss rehearsal tomorrow, JC. It’s too close to the end.”
“Okay,” JC shrugged, “then I’ll be there, too. We’ll go out after.”
“Aw, how sweet,” James coughed. “Need I remind you, JC, that you have your own commitments tomorrow night?”
“Like what?”
“Like studio time to make up for your afternoon in the park yesterday?”
“You know about that huh?”
“I thought you said you had free time, JC,” Kat said, slapping his shoulder.
James spoke before JC could defend himself to either. “Do you know what it’s like to have a sniveling opportunist like Patrick Hammond tell you something you should’ve known but didn’t?”
“James, I’m sorry—”
“Oh look it’s the waiter!” Chris interrupted, changing the subject as only he could. “Why hello, waiter, I think we could use some more wine, right guys? Of course, right. After all, this is a night for play and not work.”
“Amen to that,” Ethan smirked, gulping down the last of his wine.
The waiter only nodded and retreated to fetch another bottle.
“God, I haven’t been here since the summer after I graduated high school,” Kat said, mostly to herself, as the group rounded the corner, moving toward the back entrance of Webster Hall. James, Chris, and Lance had decided to head back to the hotel, all having had the shrimp at dinner and all not feeling too well anymore.
“Why not?” Justin questioned casually, tossing an arm around her shoulder.
“Hey!” JC called from behind the pair.
“Relax, JC, I’m just borrowing her!” Justin called back. “So, why haven’t you been here?”
“No reason,” Kat answered quickly, shrugging under the weight of his arm. “There are just clubs closer to school.”
“Yeah, that don’t cost 30 bucks a head,” Jordan jumped in, knowing full well that Kat hadn’t been to a club at all in the past year, but knowing why.
“Yeah, guys. We’re not all multimillionaires, here,” Erin agreed.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, girls,” Joey spoke up. “Ladies don’t pay in our company.”
“Oh, how chivalrous,” Kat sighed sarcastically, ducking out form under Justin’s arm and walking back to where JC lagged behind with Ethan and Mel. “Is that an Nsync policy or a Joey policy?”
“Who the fuck cares?” Jordan laughed. “Joey’s my date now.”
“Oh damn,” Kat grinned, resting her head in the crook of JC’s arm. “Am I gonna have to tell Greg?”
“Tell Greg!” Jordan laughed. “Bastard stood me up!”
“Ah yes. God forbid he only makes the two hour drive five times a week instead of six,” Kat teased.
“No wonder we get along so well,” Jordan smirked. “We’re on the exact same wavelength.”
“In sync, as it were,” Joey added wrapping an arm around Jordan’s waist.
“Did he just say that?” Kat laughed.
“I dunno, never met him before in my life,” JC chuckled.
Two hours later, Mel and the rest of security had planted themselves around the balcony, handling the few small incidents that had come up since their arrival. Joey, Jordan, Justin, and Erin hadn’t left the dance floor on the main room since they got there. Kat, Ethan, and JC set themselves up in the VIP room off the balcony, occasionally wandering in to the hip-hop or old school rooms, but mostly staying put, talking, drinking, dancing.
“You guys want another drink?” Ethan asked, rising from his seat.
“Nah man,” JC answered. He wasn’t drunk but unmistakably toasted.
“Can you grab me another water?” Kat yawned.
“Whiskey Sour, gotcha,” Ethan winked.
“You realize you’re contributing to the delinquency of a minor, right?”
“Call a cop!” Ethan laughed over his shoulder as he made his way to the bar.
“If I didn’t know and better, I’d say that boy was trying to get my girl drunk,” JC chuckled softly, pulling Kat closer to him on the couch.
Kat let him pull her as close as he wanted— which was pretty damn close. Despite Ethan’s teasing, Kat hadn’t had one drink that night— not even wine with dinner— but the way in which with every drink he had, JC seemed to forget more and more who and where he was, made Kat a little tipsy herself. The looks, the dances, the touches all made her head considerabley fuzzy. It wasn’t until she was practically on his lap and he began to nibble at her jaw line did she regain some shred of self-awareness.
“JC,” she whispered, trying to pull back. He wouldn’t let her, his hold tightening the more she tried. “JC, I think we should take this somewhere a little less public than Webster Hall.”
“Why?”
The word was whispered breathily against her neck, almost a kiss in itself. It was becoming perfectly clear he wasn’t stopping his exploration until he was good and ready.
“Why? Because about a month ago, you made some very public statements in order to keep this relationship private and we’re in a club w—”
“With a thousand drunken people too concerned with themselves to give a damn about who I am and what I’m doing,” he reasoned, leaning in to claim her lips.
She didn’t protest. From the moment his lips had begun to pass over the skin of her neck, letting her know how well he’d learned her body in the past week, she’d been slipping deeper into a JC-haze. Quelling her initial objection had suppressed all her will to resist and now, as his lips slanted over her own, she didn’t care if a camera crew from Access Hollywood waltzed into the VIP room.
Their lips caressed each other lazily at first. Kat ran her hands up his chest, one settling on his shoulder, the other toying with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. The feel of her fingers massaging the sensitive spot just below his hairline was enough to make him want to sling her over his shoulder and carry her back to his room. When her touch became less lethargic and more earnest, he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the contact. His fingers curled around her waist and began to fist in the soft fabric of her top.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” JC mumbled as his lips traveled down once again capturing the vulnerable spot below her ear.
“I’d say so,” a less-than-pleased voice came from behind them.
They both looked up to find a very large Mel staring down at them. “Need I remind you that this is a public place or are the thousands of writhing bodies enough to tip you off?”
Kat’s face burned as she slid off JC’s lap, wondering when she’d gotten there in the first place.
“Sorry, Mel,” JC coughed, standing up and holding his hand out to Kat.
She took it, confused as to where they were going until she remembered his mumbled assertion that they had to “get the hell” out of there.
“Where’s everyone going?” Ethan asked, returning with a beer in one had and I bottled water in the other.
“We,” JC said tugging Kat to his side, “are going back to the hotel. So if you could just let everyone know, I’d appreciate it. Thanks E.” He started to make his way toward the door. Kat shot both Mel and Ethan an amused smile as JC tugged her with him.
Mel simply shrugged when Ethan looked to him for an explanation and moved to escort the couple to the car, leaving Ethan to go off an find the others.
Cool night air hitting Kat’s sweat-dampened body was more than enough to make her shiver. JC moved around back of her and wrapped his arms tightly around her trembling body, having no jacket to offer. She sank back against his chest as they waited for the car to come around. She wondered if he knew the goosebumps forming up and down her arms had nothing to do with the cold.
Mel stood off to the side keeping his eyes peeled for onlookers. Someone had to be thinking straight around this pair. As soon as the car came around, he put the two in the backseat and headed back into the club. He found the rest of the group talking to Ethan in the pool room off the main dance floor.
“So I guess I have the room to myself tonight,” Jordan laughed, taking the water off Ethan’s hands, “again.”
“It would appear that way,” Ethan confirmed, taking a swig of his Heineken.
“Well if you need some company—”
“Joey, just cus I’m your date, it don’t make me a whore,” Jordan laughed pushing him away.
“I don’t know, Jordan. That seems to be the defining characteristic of most of his dates these days,” Justin laughed, ignoring Joey’s half-hearted protest. “You may want to switch over to my arm if you want to protect your honor,” he continued, grinning charmingly.
“See, I would, Ju, but I just can’t date a man who accessorized better than I do,” Jordan matched his smile, reaching up to tug on his diamond-studded earlobe. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to incur the wrath of Spears.”
“Nah, girl, you could take her,” Joey snickered.
“Hold up,” Ethan interjected. “I’ve seen this one in a catfight and I’m pretty sure Brit would have the upper hand.”
“Why’s that,” Justin asked, eyeing Jordan who was now doubled over in a fit of half-drunken laughter.
“Let’s just say, while she’s got the hair-pulling down to an art, she has very little to back it up with,” Ethan slurred.
“Yeah, once those extensions are history, I got nothing,” Jordan got out between giggles. Their banter was cut short by Jordan’s cell phone— Greg— and she retreated into the nearest stairwell.
“I think I should not go back to the hotel.” Kat forced the words out of her mouth, her body desperately battling to keep the traitorous phrase inside as JC’s soft lips played along the base of her neck.
“Now why would you go and say a thing like that?”
Kat tried to clear her head, the task of gathering her thoughts becoming increasingly difficult as JC’s hand wandered slowly and deliberately under her shirt and flattening over the smooth, warm skin of her belly. “Well,” she started, having to compose herself yet again as his chuckled breath tickled her skin— the laughter elicited by the strain he heard in her voice. “Well, I’m a little crazy and you’re a little drunk and I think this may get a little out of control.”
“Kat?”
It was as if the heat of his breath was all it took to melt her and she was ready to recant every religious bias she had just so she could be absolved of the sin of even thinking about leaving the man she sat intertwined with in the backseat of the town car.
She brought his head up, forcing his lips to stop the sweet torture they were inflicting on her neck. She gazed into his eyes momentarily, realizing that he really wasn’t as intoxicated as she’d thought. He knew exactly what he was doing. With that realization came another— she was out of excuses. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her and there was nothing left, no guilt, no second thoughts, to stop them.
He brought one hand up and gently cupped her cheek, his thumb passing lovingly over her bottom lip. Their gaze was intense and she felt as thought it had lasted hours already when in reality it had only been a few seconds. He drew in a shaky breath before uttering the words that would change everything.
“I love you.”
The world seemed to tip on its axis and all the air rushed out of her lungs. She’d known it as surely as she’d known she was in love with him but to hear the words with such an intoxicating mix of intensity and sincerity was almost too much. Those three words weren’t used much in her life but she counted herself fortunate that along with their scarcity came the knowledge the when they were used, they were true.
It took her a moment to find her voice and he waited patiently, needing to hear her say it back and knowing that she would. She opened her mouth, the words coming more naturally than any she’d ever spoken before.
“I love you.”
She hadn’t finished the last word before he leaned in, claiming her lips in a hungry kiss. The contact was searing and there was no way any notion of common sense would hold them back that night.