The Consequence of Loving Colton (Consequence 1)

With a watery grin, I went up to Max and wrapped my arms around him. He truly was one of the best people I knew. Had I not crushed on Colton all my life, I would probably love Max.

But his story . . .

I had a feeling it was just beginning. So I stepped back while Colt shook his hand and then silently went to Colt’s truck and climbed in.

“So,” I asked once it roared to life. “What was your plan going to be?”

“I was going to find a hotel but that sounded so cheap, so honestly? I was just going to sit in the car with you and try really hard not to peel your clothes off while we talked and drank wine straight out of the bottle.”

I gasped. “Be still my heart!”

Colt’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, well, when you aren’t thinking with your head, all you can focus on is just getting that one person alone, no matter how you do it or what it takes to get that person away from others.”

“Because I’m not a Christmas tree,” I said confidently.

Colton laughed. “Right, because you aren’t a Christmas tree.”

“A sunset.” I sighed.

Colt’s eyes met mine. “The most beautiful sunset I’ve ever laid eyes on or ever will.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

MILO

You know that feeling you get when a really good song comes on the radio? Or when Justin Timberlake is on SNL with Jimmy Fallon and you laugh so hard you have tears streaming down your face and you’re just excited to be alive? Okay, so maybe I’m taking it to a bit of an extreme.

But I had that type of nervous excitement coursing through my veins. The drive to the hotel wasn’t very long.

Had it taken longer I might have calmed down.

Instead I was picking all the nail polish off my nails and had the stupid Madonna/Justin Timberlake end-of-the-world song going in circles around my head.

We’ve only got four minutes to save the world.

Holy crap, what if I’m terrible at sex?

It happens to people.

I mean, there has to be a learning curve, right?

Colt turned the car off.

Three minutes to save the world.

Two.

One.

“Colt!” I gripped the seat belt with my hands and breathed in and out through my nose. “We could just stay here if you want.”

“In the truck?” He looked around. “I love you too much to stay in a truck all night. Come on, let’s go.”

“Uh . . .”

“Milo,” Colt sighed. “Sweetheart, how am I ever going to look at the sunset when it’s so damn dark?”

“What?” I blinked.

“It’s dark outside,” he said slowly.

I nodded and gulped at the same time.

“And I really,” he whispered in a low voice, “really want to see you.”

“You want to see me?”

“Without the cover of darkness . . .” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Or clothes.”

Air wheezed out of my mouth.

And I started choking.

On him.

Not like away from him, which would have been okay—you know like when you swallow a bug and cough to the side, then smile and say something like “Those darn bugs.”

No.

That would have been forgivable.

I coughed in his face.

Like an elderly person from a home who was on oxygen.

“Sorry.” I covered my mouth.

“Are you going to make it?” Colt laughed. “Or do you need more alcohol?”

“A drink.” I nodded. “A drink would probably be wise considering the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?” His finger traced my jaw. I shivered and nearly lost control of my body. I had a terrifying vision of just ripping his clothes off but getting so aggressive that I accidently squashed him with my enthusiasm.

“Just . . . I . . . It’s you. And you, like this, make me nervous.”

“I understand.”

“No.” I laughed. “That would be impossible.”

“Try me.”

I gave him a doubtful look as he unbuckled my seat belt and then very carefully threaded his fingers through my hair. “Kissing you is terrifying, breathing your same air makes my knees weak, when I’m around you it’s a tie between wanting to chase you down—or just kiss you until you can’t breathe.”

“People need to breathe, Colt—to live.”

“I don’t know about that.” He sighed. “Sometimes I think I just need you—to live.”

Cue tears.

“You still nervous?”

“A bit.” I shrugged.

“It’s me.” Colt’s smile melted my insides, his light eyes and full grin were something I’d counted on my entire life. He was my finish line.

“When you won your first swim meet . . . I helped you get the green out of your hair. When you had your first drink—I held your hair while you puked. When your first boyfriend—the jackass—dumped you . . . I held your hand. It’s me, Milo. Just you and me. Forever . . . us.”

I kissed him.

My mouth collided with his.

And it wasn’t fear that was driving my behavior anymore.

But love.

And a total sense of being at peace—finally finding my home—in the boy who used to live next door.

CHAPTER FIFTY

COLTON

H-h-e-e-l-l-l. I was going to die.

I was already burning from the inside out—sexual frustration isn’t a laughing matter. No, seriously. You know how in sex ed the teacher tells you that not having sex won’t kill you?