Free Runaway by Stephanie Weiford Page A

upside down. He bent his elbows and with what seemed like no effort, launched himself upright again.
    “Encore! Encore!” I clapped and he took a deep bow in my direction.
    “I can do a lot more,” he winked and I felt my face flush. “Sorry. My performer alter ego is a cocky bastard,” he rubbed one hand though his hair bashfully.
    “I’d be a cocky bastard too if I could do that,” I smiled and walked over to the hoop. I could see it was attached to a chain that was hidden behind a thick ribbon like material. The hoop itself felt cold to the touch. I pushed it like a swing but it didn’t budge much.
    “You could,” he came up behind me, so close I could feel him without actually touching.
    “You’re crazy, I bet it took you years to learn this stuff,” I said without turning around.
    “I had a lifetime to prefect it, but it’s more about the passion then it is the polish. Anyone can learn, but only a passionate person can develop talent.” He reached out an arm over my shoulder and stopped the swing of the hoop. He was just as hard as the steel in his grasp.
    “Are you a passionate person Luke?” I snapped my mouth shut. What is wrong with me?!
    “Let me show you,” he put his other hand on my shoulder and turned me slowly to face him. My chest was falling and rising heavily, and my head was buzzing. He traced down the outside of my arms slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. His gaze was unnerving in that they never waived from my face, his lips quirked on one side in the smallest slip of a grin.  He reached the ends of my finger tips and slipped his hands off mine, landing them to rest low on my hips. It was an automatic reaction, I leaned forward wanting to touch his mouth to mine.
    However, he had other ideas. I was expecting a repeat of the kiss that had played out a million times in my head; instead he swept me off my feet. Literally. 
    “Hey!” I gasped as he sat me down on the hoop. It was large enough that I didn’t need to duck to fit. I grasped the sides and held on tightly. He placed his hands over mine and walked me backwards like a child on a playground swing. I was nearly level above his head but he just held me still there and we grinned at each other.
    “Ready?” he asked, but before I could respond he let go and I swung out wildly. The cold air rushed around me, lifting my spirits higher than they had been in years. A childish squeal escaped past my lips and the hoop started its backward swing towards him.
    After another moment or two the hoop lost its momentum and I kicked out a leg to turn around to face Luke.
    “I like the way you look right now,” he was grinning widely.
    “Like what?” I asked breathless.             
    “Smiling, face flushed, your beautiful Daphne,” he stepped forward and stopped the swing with both of his arms and leaned his face towards mine.
    “Luke,” I said softly. I don’t know what I want from him. On one hand I really, really wanted to see where all that kissing from before would have went, and I was enjoying not hating him for being a perverted, cheater, but should I?
    “Do you remember when we last kissed?” his breath was so warm against my ear where he whispered to me.
    “Yes,” I barely managed to push the word out.
    “It was like lightening, kissing you. Like every nerve in me was set ablaze and the only anchor I had in the storm was you.” I knew exactly what he meant. I had felt it to, like what we had shared was something so much more than a kiss. It was like when you first let someone new see you totally naked, it felt special and vulnerable.  It was the kind of moment that once it happened there was no taking it back, just like seeing someone naked; you can’t ever un-see it.
    That first kiss with Luke had scared me shitless. It was also the reason I had spent the rest of my weekend in dirty clothes, eating take out and left overs, and watching sappy television. That one kiss had been enough to send