Grace
I don’t know how long we stand there afterward before the world starts demanding my attention again. My cheeks feel hot. My heart is still doing something reckless in my chest. Dawson’s eyes linger on me like he’s deciding something he hasn’t said out loud yet, and that somehow that feels more dangerous than the kiss itself.
Someone clears their throat pointedly. Someone else claps like the show isn’t over yet. My parents' living room comes back into focus in pieces — the twinkling lights, the smell of cinnamon, the crowd of onlookers wearing matching grins like they’ve just witnessed the season finale of their favorite show.
“I said PG, not rated R, Dawson,” Parker groans from the couch.
My cheeks burn even hotter. I’m pretty sure I could power the entire Christmas tree with th
