Authors: Liz Reinhardt
I hold a hand up. "No, it's fine.
Lala
and I aren't together."
I've said it so many times, everyone should be pretty clear on it, but, for some reason, no one seems to hear what I say.
"You aren't together
today
." My dad chuckles, the
crows
feet next to his bl
ue eyes deeper than I remember
them being. "Young love, boy, it's a funny thing. Your mother is the single best
thing that ever happened to me. I hope..."
His voice goes low, and he leans so close I can smell the smoky clin
g of the Marlboro he snuck before
dinner. "Just, look what not having a woman's touch has done to Remington. Boys will be boys for so long, but men need women to make a full life.
Lala
is a good girl, she's got her priorities straight, she fits in,
she's
loyal to you. She'll make you happy in the long run, and that's what really matters. Don't wait too long, or someone else will scoop her up."
There's no point in arguing. I nod along, ask my dad what he needs me to get, and head out. Now that I'm on an errand, I can take my sweet time and no one will bug me.
I te
xt Evan, but don't get a reply
. I'm in and out of my father's shop in a few minutes, and I'm only a few streets over from her, so I circle her block.
The lights in her house are all out ex
cept one of the upstairs window
s. I wonder if she's out, which would make sense, since I told her that I didn't know if I'd be able to get away
tonight
.
I don’t expect her to sit around waiting for me. I might secretly want her to, but I don’t expect it.
I pull down a side street by her house, park, and walk as nonchalantly as I can so I don't arouse any suspicion. Not that I have to worry, si
nce my talent for blending is so good, it’s almo
st like I have the ability to become
invisible
.
I keep my eyes on my phone and don’t get a second glance from
the couple walking their dog and the old lady watering her
plants
.
Which is good, because I'm about to jump the wall that rings the garden outside Evan's grandparents' house
like a shady burglar
.
I randomly know from talking to her last night that her room has a balcony and overlooks the garden.
It's a match for the lit window.
I
hop
the fence and walk quietly through the flowers and
shrubs,
scale up the wall and stand
on the first low roof right under her balcony. The French doors are open, and the curtains flutter in and out in the light breeze.
I check my phone again, but there's nothing from her. Just when I'm sure I made a mistake and she isn't home after all, I see her silhouette in the room.
"Evan!" I call, keeping my voice low. "Evan! Are you there?"
The curtain whips to the side, and Evan is there, so beautiful, it kicks the breath up out of my lungs.
Her long, dark hair is damp and kind of curls at the bottom. She's wearing a tiny tank top and even tinier shorts, so she's all never-ending tan legs and smooth arms. And her face is scrubbed clean, no makeup.
She doesn't need any. The way her eyes are so blue, with those soft black lashes, her lips and cheeks stained pink, she's too damn beautiful to cover it with anything at all. She leans down and all her hair tumbles over her shoulders.
"Winch!"
The way she says my name, like she's excited to see me, like I'm the one person she's been waiting for, burns away every stray shred of irritation I had stored up from this long day with my family.
"Hey beautiful.
You have a minute for me?"
"Why didn't you call? I would have gotten dressed if you wanted to go out somewhere."
She tucks her hair back behind her ears and it makes them stick out just a little bit.
"I texted.
You must have been in the shower. But it's cool. I like having you here, all to myself."
Being out in the night, looking up at her, all clean and sexy and
mine
turns me a little
romantic.
"Are you sure it's not just because you're being super cheap?" she teases.
I take a few steps back, give myself a decent head
-
start and jump at her balcony.
Evan lets out this little yelp, but doesn't miss a beat. She grabs me by the wrists while I swing my feet up and get enough traction to scale the side. I fall over the edge and into her arms, and she's laughing so hard, she can barely breathe.
"Are you insane?" she gasps, wiping hysterical tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.
I pull her face close and kiss her, soft at first, then hungrier.
"Nah," I say when I pull back, liking the way her eyes stare at me all big and bright. "No
t cheap either. But I am damn
excited to be spending time with you. Put some clothes on, and I'll take you somewhere swank to eat.
Wherever you want."
She traces her fingers down my cheek.
"I'm not hungry.
For food."
"Where are your grandparents?"
I look through the curtains billowing in and out, to her open bedroom door and the hallway past it.
"They are at a golf tournament and dinner in South Carolina. They'll probably get a room for the night." She bites the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth, and my body goes rigid. "We could hang out."
"I'd love to." I thread my fingers through hers and try to steady myself. I've got time, no need to rush things. "You have a pretty sweet view from up here. It looks like a jungle down there."
She peeks down
, and I let go of her hand and watch while she paces along the edge of the
balcony
.
"It does, right? I love it. This was always my room in the summer, when I stayed with my grandparents while my parents went out and philandered all over the world."
She leans her elbows on the
l
edge and arches her back, giving me heart palpitations.
I sit in one of the little wrought iron chairs set up on the balcony and enjoy the view.
"Every summer?"
Who would leave this girl anywhere for any amount of time? I'm already a little pissed that my chances of being able to stay all night with her tonight are slim to none with Remy
currently
riding the fucking crazy train.
"Every summer," she echoes, her words dry.
I hold my hand out to her, and when she
takes it, I thread her delicate
fingers with mine and pull her, all coltish legs and wild hair and fresh-smelling skin,
down
onto my lap.
"Did you like staying here?" I can
smell the
shampoo on her damp hair
, sweet and flowery
.
"Yes." She snuggles against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, memorizing all the lines and curves of her body. "My parents are high maintenance.
High drama.
It was so nice to be here and just not have to deal with all their shit for a while."
I kiss right along her hairline, loving having her in my arms and listening to the smoky-honeyed sound of her voice in the hot night. "When did you last see your parents?"
Her sigh loosens all the tightness out of her muscles, and she sags against me at the final exhale.
"Mom went to
Cabo
in May, so the end of my junior year. Daddy hung around until July, but I was in Ireland at this writing workshop, so I came straight back to my grandparents' like I do every year, but this summer I never left. It's no big deal anyway. Next year is college."
She lays her head on my shoulder, and
worry
and hope punch and throttle in my chest with vicious intensity. I bet she can hear how hard my heart is beating, and I wonder if she realizes it's all because I'm here with her.
"Where are you going to college?"
I mentally calculate the number of months I'll have with her before she leaves and, probably, starts a new life that I won't be part of.
I can't be part of.
It's been hard enough to be with her just the last few weeks when we live ten minutes away from each other. How the hell would I manage years and possibly hundreds of miles?
"My grades are pretty bad." She cranes her neck to look up at me. "I'm not dumb."
I tug on a piece of her hair and narrow my eyes her way
. "I know. I don't date dumb girls."
She twists in my arms so we're face to face, the tip of her
nose brushing my cheek, her big
blue eyes staring into mine.
"Are we?"
"Are we what?" I struggle to keep an even handle on my breathing as she wraps her legs around my back and twines her arms around my neck.
"Dating?" She brushes her lips over mi
ne while she asks, and my brain
feel
s like it’s
been in an industrial explosion.
"Yeah."
I manage to keep my voice calm. "We're dating."
"You didn't even ask me." She pops her bottom lip out, I kiss it,
she
smiles.
"I'm not asking. Asking means you might be crazy enough to say 'no,' and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."
I kiss her hard, pulling at her until she's firmly on my lap and caged in my arms. I kiss her
until I feel the breaths rasp out of her mouth and taste her sweet little moans. I run my hands over her body, hot and smooth under the practically nonexistent shirt and short
s
she's wearing.
When she drops back, her swollen lips part and her eyes, slammed wide open, look almost black with too much pupil.
"I think you may have made some really good points
about you and I being in any kind of a relationship
. I don't really remember them, though."
She sucks the corner of her bottom lip in and bites down just enough to make all kinds of insane, sexy images run through my head.
I tug her hips closer
,
and she nudges her lips onto mine. This time I make sure t
hat I slow down and keep things steady
until she's imprinted against me without an inch of space. And then her hand goes down to my fly, and I hit the brakes.
Not yet. Not before she's totally mine and it means what I want it to mean to her.
"You never answered my college question.
" I grab at her wrists like we’re just playing
, but hold her hands back with real intent.
Her scowl is full-faced and looks like it may turn into a bite. "I don't want to talk right now."
I slide my hands down so I'm holding hers and run my thumbs over the skin of her wrists, where I can feel the excited drum of her pulse. It's hard for my pulse to resist getting infected by that beat.
"I
do
wanna
talk. I
wanna
know about you. So get talking."
"You're pretty damn bossy, and I don't know if I like it."
She softens that gorgeous mouth, bats those pretty eyes, and leans that curved body close.
I give her one quick kiss and say, "Bossy is how I am, take it or leave it. Now
quit trying to
seduce me
, and tell me about college."
She sighs, rolls her shoulders, crosses her arms, glares, but I'm stone. I bounce her on my legs, 'cause it's damn hard to look tough when you're getting shaken all over the place. I give her major credit; that stubborn little ass tries like hell to keep a
pissy
face, but she finally laughs and swats at my arms.
"Fine!
Stop! I give up, and you're shaking my brains." She presses her hands on either side of her head. "Okay, college is weird right now. I applied to Trinity--"
"In Ireland?"
I ask, and love the way surprise widens her eyes.
I'm unexpectedly informed about world topics for a delinquent.
"Yes, in Ireland. Because I wrote this
essay in a program they hosted
over the summer, and I guess it impressed the
bigshots
there--"
"Can I read it?" I interrupt.
"Stop interrupting. Yes. Not now, though. So I applied to Trinity, in Ireland. And I applied to Rutgers in New Jersey, because my best friend lives there and it's one of her safety schools. Plus it's huge and close to New York City, which I feel, weirdly, might be like a second home for me. Plus it's a state school, so it's not as grade-crazy as some of the private schools."