by Angel Lawson
It may be the only time I’d have a lesbian to thank for a raging case of blue balls.
“Well, I’m glad you had fun.”
I smile, feeling a little guilty for hedging on the truth, but none of this is my fault. “'Night.”
“'Night, Jake.”
I climb the stairs and the only light on comes from Dexter’s room. The end of the hallway is dark, the twins' rooms empty since they left. Dex is in a spot identical to his sister, his hair a mop of curls, laptop on the bed. He’s wearing headphones and tugs them off when he sees me in the doorway.
“How was it?” He knows where I’d gone—who I really went to see.
“Good. She’s good.”
He nods. “Hopefully just a few more weeks of this.”
I had a feeling Christmas and New Years were going to be tough. They always were, but not spending them with Starlee is starting to rub me wrong.
He pushes his headphones back on and I head to my room across the hall, shutting the door behind me. My phone buzzes in my pocket and a message lights up the screen.
S: Thanks for following me home.
J: You’re welcome, you get in okay?
S: I did.
J: Good.
Even through the phone I feel unfinished business lingering between us. It’s not that I can’t go to bed horny. I’m eighteen. I spend half my day fighting through hormones and ill-timed boners, but tonight was different. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told her my willpower was holding by a thread. I was barely clear-headed enough to find my car in the parking lot.
I look back at the screen and see the dots at the bottom, implying that she’s typing…and typing…and typing.
Finally, a message pops up.
S: Meet me?
I swallow.
J: Now? Where?
Eager much?
S: The back cottage
I stare between the phone and the window. Starlee knows I can easily come and go from the porch roof. I hadn’t lately. I’d been good—trying to follow the rules. I take a step closer, looking down at her bedroom window. She’s looking up at me.
Fuck the rules.
J: Five minutes
I head back in the hall, down to the bathroom to brush my teeth, then go back to my room and lock the door quietly behind me. When I look back down, Starlee is gone and I ease my window up, thinking this is foolish—knowing she’s worth it.
The bitterly cold air hits me as I step on to the porch and make my way down to see my girl.
19
Starlee
My hand shakes from both cold and nerves as I try to insert the key into the cottage lock. A sense of dread and longing took over as I left the movie theater, parting with Claire in the parking lot. Once I hit the road to Lee Vines and the car lights followed me all the way up the isolated mountain road, I had a suspicion who it was.
My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since we’d gotten out of control in our seats. A low ache settled in my bones and as I got closer and closer to home, I knew I didn’t want the night to end.
When I saw his bedroom light turn on, I texted him.
And now I’m here, using the key I’ve had since allowing Charlie to use the cottage to play his games, and freezing in the cold December night. I’m breaking every rule set by not only Sierra but my grandmother, too, but all sense of self-preservation fell away in that theater.
“Crap,” I say, dropping the key. I fumble with my phone, looking for the flashlight. I’m still not good with this thing. Footsteps come up from behind me and in a heartbeat, Jake’s got the keys in his fingers and then in the lock and he’s pushing me through the door.
“Hey,” he says, locking us in.
“Hi.”
“Is there a thermostat?”
I nod and feel my way around the room, finding the little box near the kitchenette. The heat is on—enough not to burst the pipes when it gets below freezing—but it’s still chilly. I press the button up and hear the furnace kick on.
Jake’s hands are warm when he reaches for me, sliding under my hair and pulling me close. Our kisses start off where they left off—heated and full of passion. Never in my life did I think a boy like Jake Hollingsworth would like me—or that any boy would like me--but I taste it on his mouth, in the way his hips press against mine, the way he hums between kisses.
I feel chills, this time not from the cold, when his lips trail hot down my neck, tongue sucking at the soft spot nestled in my collar bone. I place my palms against his chest, feeling him the way I wanted to in the theater, pushing his shirt to reveal his stomach and chest. I kiss the taut, smooth skin that stretches over his muscles. He’s built like a Greek god; mind and body, all hard lines and confident swagger. But like all of the ancients, he has his flaws and in this case, like he swore, his self-control falters when it comes to me. His hands are needy, rough. He pushes and pulls at my sweater until he’s yanked it over my head. He cradles me to his chest, skin to skin, and I’ve only been this close to someone once before and this feels just as good.
My fingers tuck into the waistband of his jeans and his belly caves. Once more, he pauses my hand. “I don’t want to have sex tonight, Starlee.”
I frown, confused. “Why not?”
“We can break the rules, but not all of them. I want to be able to tell the truth if this falls apart.” He brushes my hair over my shoulders. “I want to take my time when we’re finally together like that.”
“Okay,” I say in a rush, overwhelmed at the luxury of time with this amazing boy. “But what about what we did in my room that night? When you…” I can’t say the words without blushing. He smiles and rubs my cheek. “That isn’t crossing a line?”
“I wanted to make you feel good.”
“You did.” God, he did. So good. “What if I want to do the same for you?”
His jaw clenches and I touch his chest over his heart, feeling the pounding under his skin. I drag my nails down his body, eliciting a shiver. I’ve never felt so powerful.
I push him back and his calves hit the couch and when I reach for the button on his jeans he doesn’t stop me, instead running his hand up my neck and threading his fingers in my hair. I act braver than I am when I push his pants over his hip, revealing the sharp V of muscle that vanishes into his boxers, pretending I’m not intimidated by the size of his bulge. He takes my hand and guides me, running my palm over the cotton, feeling the heat underneath. My heart pounds, pounds, pounds, thrumming in my chest, my ears, my veins.
He lifts my chin while I have him in my hands and the brilliant blue of his eyes tells me everything I need to know, but he says it anyway. “You’re the first girl to understand me. You accept me for not just my skills but my flaws. My parents,” his Adam’s apple bobs, “they didn’t know how much I struggled, but you knew, right away.” His mouth moves close to mine, whispering against my lips. “I love you, Starlee Jones.”
I’m overwhelmed. Consumed. “I love you, too.”
We stop talking after that and I encourage him to sit and I lower myself between his knees. I’m scared but also exhilarated. I’ve never done this before, but I do love him and I want to show him how much. My timidity is overtaken by the desire to feel him. Coax him with my hands. I kiss him with my mouth. Stroke him with my hands. In this moment, I see his vulnerability and I exhibit power as he trembles at my will. The sound of my name on his tongue along with the way his fingers tighten in my hair binds us together.
I’ve never known such intimacy.
When we’re finished, he pulls me into his lap and I curl against his sweaty, warm chest for a moment—just one moment—where we’re allowed to just be.
20
Starlee
When I finally roll out of bed, I’m thankful I didn’t set the time to meet up with Jasper to get the Christmas tree earlier than eleven. The night before with Jake had been amazing. Once we checked on everything and locked up the cottage, he followed me back to my window, helped me inside and scra
mbled up to the porch roof. Once inside he texted me the all-clear and another I love you.
I shower, hoping the heat will make the red marks from his scruffy chin fade away from my neck, and then dress, pulling a sweater with a thick neck over my head. My cheeks are flushed, they burn every time I think of what we did—what I did—in the dark of the cottage. The way Jake moved, sounded, was sexier than anything I’d ever imagined and I get heated all over again thinking about it.
“How’d you sleep?” Leelee asks when I walk in the kitchen. She’s already got her cup of Sam’s Blend from next door and there’s only a bite of Lucifer’s Lemon Tart left on her plate. I walk by and snag it, the sweet and sour melting on my tongue.
“Okay. I think I was just tired from the busy week at school.”
“And you’re going to the tree farm today?”
“Yep. Over in Murphy’s, on the other side of the park? They said they’d donate it to the school.”
“Who’s driving? Dexter?”
“No, this boy from school named Jasper. He’s in the club, too, and has a truck.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, you guys be careful going over the northern pass of the park. It can get icy.”
“We will,” I say, giving her a kiss on her cheek. Jasper should be here any minute and it’s easier for me to meet him out by the lodge. “Have a good day.”
I wear my waterproof boots and grab my coat and gloves, knowing we’ll be outside for most of the day. We’re going to actually cut down a tree. I sit on the front steps of the office and wait, watching a few people, locals and passthroughs walk in and out of the Wayward Sun. The smell of baked goods wafts through the air and when Jasper pulls up in a beat-up black truck and suggests we stop in to grab something for the road, I don’t argue.
“So, you play baseball?” I point to the patch on his jacket. I don’t know much about the sport, but he looks athletic. Taller than me but shorter than Jake. He’s sturdy.
“Yeah, catcher.”
I make a face. “I don’t really know what that means.”
“It means I work my ass off and my knees hurt all the time.” He says it with a good-natured smile. We pass a pick-up parked in the driveway with thick mud caked in the tires and he opens the door of the coffee shop, holding it open for me to walk in.
I haven’t been in the shop for a few weeks but I figure coming in with another person makes it legit. Sierra can’t actually ban me from spending money here. The mural on the wall is untouched—George isn’t here to make any changes--and there’s a few people in line. Saturdays are busy and Sierra mans the counter and I see movement in the kitchen. Probably both Jake and Dex are back there. I feel weird being here, and shove my hands in my pockets.
“So I guess you come here all the time?” Jasper says. “You know, since it’s next door.”
“Right. Yeah, we come a lot. My grandmother is addicted to their coffee and pastries.”
I don’t mention that although I like the sweets, I’m mostly addicted to the boy that makes them all.
Jasper’s eyes skim the board and now that we’re up close I notice they’re a nice gray-blue. “Any suggestions? I don’t think I understand the menu.”
I smile. “Everything’s based off the TV show Supernatural. So, like the coffee is named after Sam, one of the main characters, and his nickname is Moose so there’s a muffin called that, too. Then there’s Dean’s doughnuts and Crowley’s crepes and Lucifer’s lemon tart…”
“Gotcha.”
“Have you ever watched it?”
He wrinkles his nose. “Nah, I think it’s kind of a chick thing, right?”
Oh boy, he’d get a lecture if Sierra heard him say that. “I don’t know. I think guys like it, too.”
He smiles down at me. “If you think it’s good, maybe I should check it out.”
The people in front of us move up a little and I glance at the counter. Dexter stands in the doorway, eyes narrowed in my direction. I realize he’s not looking at me, but at Jasper.
I give him a small smile and he raises his eyebrows in return.
“Dude, I need a box of Crossroads buns for Charlie,” George says, appearing in the kitchen doorway. He notices Dexter looking my way and rests his hand on the doorframe. A small smile crosses his lips until Dex glances at him and elbows him in the side. “Ouch.”
The last two customers complete their order and move to the side, waiting for Sierra to serve it to them.
“George, I’m glad you stopped by, but you really need to get out from behind the counter,” she tells him. “You’re messing up my flow.”
“Okay, okay,” he mumbles, eyes focused on me. He swings around the counter and moves to the back of the shop, near his mural. The number of eyes watching me grows.
Dexter walks over to his sister and whispers something in her ear. His sharp jaw clenches tight. I’m not sure but I think I hear him say, “And this is why you can’t fuck around with people’s lives.”
Jasper steps forward, ready to order, oblivious to the quiet dramatics going on around us. Dexter storms back in the kitchen, followed by a loud clang of pots and pans. Jake walks out with two plates, a deep scowl on his handsome face, no doubt directed at Dex. Delicious-smelling Crowley’s crepes sit on the plates and he hands them to Sierra, realizing I’m in the shop. His frown lifts into something lazy, knowing, eyes darting to my mouth. My cheeks heat (again) thinking about last night, and Sierra finally turns around holding two fresh coffee cups and recognition crosses her face.
“Sorry for all the chaos,” she tells the couple waiting. She thanks them and then shifts her attention to me and Jasper. “Starlee, I didn’t see you come in.”
“Jasper wanted to drop in and grab something—we’ve got a service project thing today.”
“Oh really?” She brushes her hair out of her face. Both Jake and Dex stand in the door, making no effort to hide the fact they’re listening. “What kind of project?”
“We’re getting a tree for the school.” I look at the boys, including George, who is sprawled out on a chair behind us, licking sugar off his fingers. My lips part, watching his leisurely clean-up.
“For what, again?”
I snap my face back to the counter. “The, uh, mitten tree. We’re collecting gloves and mittens and things like that.”
“That’s really nice.” She glances at her brother. “You should take some in.”
Dexter crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll get right on that.”
“So, Jasper,” I say, feeling like someone should try to regain normalcy of the situation, “you know Dex, Jake, and George from school, right?”
“Sure, we’ve had some classes together,” he reaches across the counter and shakes both guys' hands then turns and does the same to George. “I never knew you worked here.”
“My sister owns it,” Dexter says, pointing at Sierra. She smiles again, well aware that we’ve entered into some kind of weird moment. “George, didn’t you say you were heading out for a tree too?”
“Yep. For my dad—down at the resort. They need three.”
“Oh so you’re going to the tree farm, too?” I ask.
He pushes his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. “I am.” His eyes dart behind me and I spin. Dexter stares at him—hard. What’s his problem? Something passes between them and George adds, “Maybe we should save gas and drive together?”
My heart flutters at the idea of spending some time with George—even if Jasper is there, too. I open my mouth to answer but Sierra cuts in. “I’m not sure you can get four trees in one truck. It’s probably a better idea to go separately.”
“I don’t know,” Jasper says rubbing his chin. “It may be a good idea. I’m a little worried about hauling it out by myself.” He smiles at me. “No offense.”
“They have staff that helps with that,” Sierra interjects. “I’m sure people need help all the time.”
I mean, I know Sierra’s been struggling with all of this but a
n out-and-out cockblocker? When it has nothing to do with her? Technically, George isn’t her concern anymore. I give her an incredulous look. Dexter nods next to her. “I think that’s a great idea. I mean, Jake and I would go but we have to work.”
“Cool,” Jasper says, still oblivious. “Let me grab some coffee and one of those tarts and we can head out. Starlee, you want something?”
“Mocha and a muffin, coming up,” Dexter says before I can answer, his voice carrying a slight edge.
Is he jealous?
I look at Jake, who is leaning against the entry to the kitchen, arms crossed, and then George who is standing with his keys in his hands, shoulders pulled back.
Wait. Are they all jealous?
“George,” Sierra says as Dexter hands us our drinks and food, “can we talk for a minute?”
“Nope,” he says, giving her a fake apologetic grin. “We really should get a move on.”
We head to the door and George opens it, waiting for both me and Jasper to walk out. I take a last look at the guys, still keeping their distance in front of Sierra but there’s a slight relief in their eyes. There was no way Jasper was getting out of that shop without one of them chaperoning.
George agrees to drive since his truck is bigger and the resort pays for the gas. He walks to the passenger side and opens the door, helping me up the high step and placing a hand in the small of my back. If he were Crowley the dog, he’d just piss on my leg, marking his territory.
“Really?” I say when he slides in behind the driver’s wheel and Jasper goes to get his gloves and coat out of his truck. “Is all this necessary?”
“Our hands may be tied right now, Star, but there’s no way in hell you’re spending the day with that guy alone.”
“You don’t trust me?”
He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “I trust you completely. But that kid? Not a chance.”
I’d seen a lot of sides of the wayward sons, but jealousy wasn’t one of them. I know it’s a little barbaric and chauvinistic, but there’s something to knowing the boys in my life are willing to draw a line for me and that no one else is allowed to cross it.
