“I know. And I’m glad. But right now I don’t care if it means nothing. Even if you never kiss me again after today—let’s have today.” His mouth was back at her ear, his whisper breathy and warm.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Laurel said.

“How could this possibly hurt?”

“You know how it is. You’ll hate me tomorrow.”

“I could never hate you.”

“It doesn’t mean forever.”

“I’m not asking for forever,” Tamani said. “Yet. I’m just asking for a moment.”

She had no more arguments. Well, there were little ones. Ones that didn’t matter, couldn’t matter when Tamani’s hands were tight against her back, caressing her shoulders, his lips a breath away from hers.

Laurel leaned forward and closed the gap.

Chapter Thirty-One

EVERYTHING SEEMED FUNNY ON THE TEN-MINUTE walk back to her house. Sadly, though, Laurel’s good spirits were not helping her hair at all. “Why can’t you be a regular guy who carries a comb in his pocket?” she asked, trying to finger-comb through the tangles.

“When have I ever given you even the slightest impression that I am a ‘regular guy’?”

“Point,” Laurel said, poking his stomach.

He grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides, and spun her around as she shrieked. He was different. Relaxed and casual in a way she hadn’t seen him for weeks. Really, since the afternoon at the cabin in Orick. It was easy to focus on herself and forget that everything was at least as stressful to Tamani as it was for her. But today, in that long hour of letting themselves just be, they had both found a kind of rest they desperately needed. Laurel kept expecting the usual guilt to settle in, but it didn’t.

“This is not helping my hair,” she said, gasping for breath.

“I think your hair is a lost cause,” Tamani said, letting her go.

“Sadly, I imagine you’re right,” Laurel replied. “Maybe my parents won’t notice.”

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Tamani said, smirking.

“Oh, crap.”

“What?” Tamani said, instantly sober and alert, stepping in front of her.

“It’s fine,” Laurel said, pushing him aside and gesturing to the car parked in front of her house. “Chelsea’s here.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Tamani asked, confused. “I mean, I think she’s awesome, don’t you?”

“No, she is. But she notices everything and won’t hesitate to comment,” she said meaningfully.

“Come here,” Tamani said, pulling her backward toward him. “I can fix this.”

Laurel stood still as Tamani smoothed her hair—detangling some knots that she couldn’t see—until it laid flat again.

“Wow,” Laurel said, her hands running down her smooth tresses. “Where did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged. “It’s just hair. Come on.” They walked, no longer hand in hand, back to the house.

Chelsea was sitting at the bar with a plate of pumpkin pie in front of her, spooning the whipped cream off the top first.

“There you are!” she said, turning as Laurel came in. “I’ve been waiting for you guys for half an hour. What on earth have you been doing?”

Laurel smiled awkwardly. “Hey, Chelsea,” she said, studiously ignoring the question.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” Chelsea said, gawking rather openly at Tamani. “I just had to get away; my brothers are a nightmare. Is he staying?”

Laurel looked up at Tamani.

“I can go,” Tamani said. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“No, no, stay!” Chelsea said, clapping her hands together. “A chance to dig into you all by myself. I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for anything!”

“Not sure I like the sound of that,” Tamani said slowly. “And we’re not exactly alone.”

“Oh, Laurel hardly counts.”

“Thanks,” Laurel said wryly.

“Not like that. I mean without the looming bundles of testosterone. You understand.”

Sadly, Laurel did. “You really can go if you want,” she murmured to Tamani.

“I’ve got nowhere to be,” Tamani said, grinning.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Mom, we’re going upstairs.”

“Keep the door open,” her mom called reflexively.

“Yeah, ’cause that’s going to be a problem,” Laurel muttered.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mrs. S.” Chelsea laughed, bounding up the stairs in front of Laurel.

As Chelsea peppered Tamani with questions about faerie longevity, garden mythology, and folk stories from around the world, Laurel’s mind wandered. Wandered down to the football fields at the high school, specifically. Why couldn’t she resist? Why couldn’t she just be by herself for a while? Was she in love? Sometimes she was sure the answer was yes, but almost as often, she was sure the answer was no. Not while she still felt the way she did about David. She was starting to really miss him, even though she saw him almost every day. But if it wasn’t love with Tamani, what was it? Not for the first time, Laurel wondered if she could be in love with them both. And, if she could, whether it mattered; it wasn’t as though either of them was willing to share. Not that that seemed like any kind of an answer, either.