Pretend We're Over (Pretend 2)

I can’t breathe. I can’t respond.

Sebastian’s eyes flicker over mine, and then he steps back and holds out his hand. I take it gladly. I’ve never wanted a kiss more than I do now. This hike just got a lot longer. Unbearably long.

“Maybe I can get that kiss now,” I say.

He turns to me with serious eyes. “No. I’ll kiss you when we make it to the waterfall. A woman like you deserves the best first kiss.”

“But this won’t be our first kiss.”

He frowns. “Yes, it will. It’s the only first kiss that matters.”

17

Sebastian

I should’ve kissed her. Right then and there.

We’ve been hiking for almost two hours since the moment she told me to kiss her, and I refused until we made it to the waterfall.

Big mistake.

I’ve been hiking with a hard-on the entire time, not the most comfortable thing in the world.

But I’m determined to give her the best kiss I can. I want it to be romantic and perfect and magical. I want it to make her believe in love again. Not that she should fall in love with me, but that love and magic can exist. I don’t want her to turn cynical like me.

Our kiss isn’t going to be magical, that is if we even make it to the waterfall. We were supposed to arrive at the waterfall twenty minutes ago. I’m pretty sure we’re lost, but I won’t tell Millie that.

When, or if, we ever make it, the kiss is going to be far from perfect. We are both covered in sweat from the incredible heat. Millie has about a dozen mosquito bites because I forgot to pack repellent, and I have a sunburn on my forehead because I didn’t wear a hat.

Our muscles ache, and even though I still have two bottles of water and a granola bar in my backpack, we are dehydrated and hungry. I didn’t plan this well. I was just focused on getting us to the waterfall, on giving Millie a magical moment.

Millie deserves it. She deserves the perfect kiss. And dammit, we didn’t come all this way to not let it happen.

All hope is lost.

Suddenly, Millie starts singing ‘Heart Attack’ by Demi Lovato. She’s completely out of breath. Her hands rest on her hips as she tries to suck in more oxygen with each step, but it doesn’t stop her from trying to belt out lyrics about not falling in love.

“For real, I think I’m going to have a heart attack.” Millie folds her arms over her head, her chest rising and falling, panting. Her cheeks are red, her face is dripping sweat, and her hair is a mess, tied back behind her ball cap. There are sweat stains all over her shirt, and her freckled legs have red swollen spots from mosquitos and where she’s gotten too much sun.

“Maybe you should stop singing then. You sound like a dying horse.”

“I. Do. Not.” She pants between each word.

“You. Do. Too.” I pant just like her to prove her point.

“I think you’re trying to kill me. But I hate to tell you, if you kill me I don’t have any money for you to collect and I don’t have a life insurance policy. So there is nothing to gain by killing me,” Millie teases me.

I laugh, knowing that Millie is just kidding, but it is a thought that has crossed my mind. A strategy that she might be trying to do to me—marrying me to take half of my money. “I’m not trying to kill you, but you are trying to kill me with that voice of yours.”

“Well then, you sing. I didn’t bring my phone, and I need music to keep me entertained.”

“I thought the very thought of kissing me was enough to keep you occupied.” It sure is enough to keep my thoughts off how bad of a plan this was. All I want to do is kiss her. One kiss and I know I can convince her to repeat our one forgotten night.

“Sing, pretty boy.”

“I’ll sing, you drink.” I toss her a water bottle. She catches it and starts drinking.

I wrack my brain, trying to think of a song. What comes out is ‘Mercy’ by Shawn Mendes. I sing a few bars before I hear Millie chuckling