He pulled himself over until he sat on the cushion next to mine, his body turned so that he faced me with his arm resting on the top of the couch behind my head. He lifted his free hand until his fingers grazed my cheek, and I had to fight against closing my eyes at his touch. “One of these days, Bree, I’ll have you believing in yourself. You’ll know just how much you’re worth, and you won’t doubt yourself for a minute.”

I had no words for that, because I did believe him. Just being around him made me more self-assured, stronger, and willing to take on the world.

“So…what other rules do we have?” He gave me an easy grin and leaned back, offering enough space to allow me to breathe properly again. “Phone calls? Can we still make those?”

“Yes, of course. And text messages. But you can’t be naughty, even if you’re joking. I don’t need to know the thoughts or images in your head. If you wouldn’t say it to your grandma, don’t say it to me.”

“Fine. I’ll keep my opinions to myself. And in turn, you aren’t allowed to wear shirts that show your cleavage. Or ones that are thin enough to show your bra. Speaking of bras, you have to wear the ones that have enough lining so when you’re cold, your nipples don’t show. You know what? Just line your closet with baggy jeans and turtlenecks and you’ll be fine.”

“No saying the word ‘nipple.’”

“Nipple? That’s not a bad word. Everyone has them.”

“If they’re no big deal, everyone has them, then it shouldn’t be a problem when mine are obvious.”

“Fine, I won’t say that word,” he said with a pout, which only made me laugh.

“No touching. Of any kind.”

“Hand holding?”

I gave it some thought, twisting my lips as I imagined what it would be like to feel my hand in his as something more than him helping me off the ground or leading me somewhere. “Yeah. I guess that will be fine. But if it leads to wanting more, we have to stop.”

“Anything else?”

“One more thing. I can’t come over here anymore. It tends to either begin or end with me in tears on your lawn.”

“If I can’t look at you in school, and you can’t come here, how will I hold your hand?” His eyes lit up again in humor as he teased me with his valid question.

“Maybe coming here isn’t completely out of the question. But not anytime soon. And if I do stop by, I don’t think it’s a good idea if I come inside.”

I watched as he licked his lips before nodding slowly. “Okay. I can agree to all that. But I think the biggest rule should be that we always communicate. If you get freaked out or confused, let me know. If I say or do something that makes you uncomfortable, tell me. And if we need to add more rules or amend any existing ones, we need to talk about it. If we’re going to do this, Bree, we have to be as open and as honest as we possibly can be. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said with a smile so big, it made my cheeks ache. “I feel like we should shake on this or something.”

“We could kiss on it.”

I couldn’t tell if it was meant as a joke or not, but either way, it put the thought in my head. Before I could say anything, my mind had already conjured images of his lips on mine. “I’ve never kissed anyone before, Axel. I don’t even know how to.”

His arm fell from the back of the couch, his hand landing on top of mine. “It was a joke, Bree. But eventually, I will kiss you, and it won’t matter one bit that you don’t know how. I’m a teacher, remember? I’ll teach you how.”

I allowed myself to relax enough to let a grin spread across my lips. “A history teacher that sucks at grammar. That doesn’t bode well for your case, Mr. Taylor.”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

I lowered my head in an attempt to hide my embarrassment and caught the time on my watch. “Well, I have about five minutes left of my birthday. I’m sure my mom will be home soon. I should probably head back before she locks me out.”

We both stood awkwardly in front of each other before I turned to head for the door. I could see our reflection in the glass and I stopped just shy of reaching for the handle. Axel reached around me and slid the door open, leaning into my back with his chest. “Happy birthday, Aubrey,” he whispered in my ear, which ignited a fire inside my body. I no longer registered the cool weather seeping in through the open door.

I spun around, our faces only inches apart. My hands fisted into his shirt, and I held myself steady on my wobbly knees. “Our deal can start tomorrow. I now have four minutes left of my birthday. In the fairy tale, the prince must kiss the princess before midnight.”

He cupped my cheeks in his warm hands, bringing our faces even closer until our noses touched. “This is what you want?” he asked, and I nodded. “Then, by all means, princess, happy birthday.” And then he pulled my mouth to his soft, warm lips.

The kiss didn’t last long, and he kept it gentle. It was full of passion without turning passionate. I didn’t have to worry about what to do with my tongue, because he pulled away before getting there.

It was perfect.

It was sweet.

But it was dangerous. Because I spent the entire walk home thinking about it. I spent the entire time in the shower wondering when it would happen again. And then I laid in bed for what seemed like hours, imaging what it would be like to do more.

School was out Monday for President’s Day, but that didn’t mean I slept in. I woke up with a slight headache, probably from the wine the night before. I’d felt fine and sober when I went to sleep, so I didn’t understand the lingering effects. I also didn’t understand how my mom could drink more than I had, yet wake up and go to work as if it were nothing at all. Maybe time grows tolerance.

My headache didn’t keep me down, though. Soon after waking up, I received a text message. It was the first time in over two weeks that my phone had made any kind of sound other than to alert me to a low battery. Needless to say, my heart jumped in anticipation at the sound.

Good morning, beautiful. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you. Have a good day and I’ll talk to you later.

I didn’t respond, only because I didn’t understand the rules. I felt foolish as I pondered my decision. I wanted to tell him good morning as well, but he ended it with talk to you later, which to me, sounded a lot like the end of a conversation. But I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it too much before closing the phone with a smile and stuffing it into the pocket of my jeans.

My mom wasn’t home when I made it downstairs, and I wondered if she had come home at all throughout the night. This would be where most kids called to make sure their parent was okay, but not me. If I called out to her, she’d accuse me of being nosy and checking up on her. I decided to make a bowl of oatmeal and enjoy the silence of the house while reminiscing about my kiss with Axel.

Those thoughts got me through the day until his call came in later that evening. Mom had ended up coming home around three and spent the rest of the afternoon and night in her room. She didn’t speak to me, and I didn’t speak to her, but I was okay with that. I didn’t want to let her ruin my mood.

“You know, you don’t have to give me compliments now. Just because we’re no longer hiding or denying our feelings for each other doesn’t mean you have to talk to me any differently,” I said after climbing in bed with the phone to my ear.

“Are you referring to the beautiful comment? Bree, you have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to say that to you. But if it makes you uncomfortable, then I’ll stop.”

It was a good thing we weren’t face to face, because my cheeks flamed with shyness. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I just don’t want you thinking you had to say mushy stuff to me.”