by Lola West
I loved Drew Scott.
Maybe I’d loved him from the first moment I laid eyes on him.
Commanding all buzzing cease, I propelled myself forward, splayed out next to him, my head resting gently near his heart, my arm wrapped around his chest.
Curling his arm around my back, he sighed. “There you are, Lua.” He leaned down and placed a whisper of a kiss on the crown of my head. “I missed you.”
I missed you too, I thought, but I stayed quiet, listening to the sounds of his heart and his lungs and his tummy as if they were an orchestra from the heavens.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit. Lua, Lua. We’ve got to wake up, babe.”
I curled tighter around his chest. I wasn’t ready for this to end. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but now I was happy. I was cozy. I could smell Drew all around me and I wanted it to stay that way. Only, I was starting to feel cold and wet. Why was I wet?
Drew sat up, taking me with him. “Fuck. Lu, come on, we got to move! It’s raining.”
That’s why I was wet. It was raining. My eyes snapped open. I scrambled to standing but then kind of flailed for a second, like now what? It was really coming down. I grabbed the picnic basket. It was heavy and wet, and it slipped out of my hand.
“Shit,” I blurted as it fell.
“That’s what I said.” Drew laughed, I looked at him smiling, little rivulets of water running down his face, and I was happy again.
I smiled back at him. “We’re smiling idiots standing in the rain.”
He shrugged. “We’ve been through worse.”
Had we ever. I stood there, water everywhere, a chill threatening my bones, and continued to grin at him. This was my moment. I could feel it. I left the picnic basket on the ground. I didn’t say anything. I just crossed the two feet between us and wrapped my arms around his neck. He continued to smile too.
“Hi, Lu,” he whispered from somewhere deep in his belly. Rainwater ran off the tip of his nose and rolled though the divot above his lips. I wondered what that little lip divot was called and made a mental note to google it later. Instinctually, his tongue darted out and quickly swiped at the water. And then I kissed him, all soggy, the rain coming down all around us.
This kiss was different from every other time I felt Drew’s lips. In the past when we kissed, there was all this pressure; we were always in the shadows with the darkness closing in. But standing in the rain by the lake where I grew up, all I felt was sunshine. Drew was burning with pure unadulterated joy. I could literally feel the smile in his kiss. His lips moved gently over mine, soft and sweet. This wasn’t a hot and humpy kind of kiss. It was a slow, gentle, I wanna feel your soul kind of kiss. I would have almost called it chaste, except I could feel his erection pressing into my hip. I broke from his lips to look into his eyes. What was he thinking?
“You kissed me,” he said, delighted.
“I kissed you in New York too,” I teased.
“That was different.” He was serious. “I was different.”
“I know.” I looked down and said this so quietly that I almost didn’t hear it myself.
He used his hand to tip my chin up so I was looking him in the eyes again and with a certain sternness in his tone, he said, “I want to be with you for real. I don’t want some clandestine bullshit in a hotel suite or a late-night romp in the kitchen of a college organization where we work. I want everything, Lu. I want to eat lunch in the cafeteria with you and irritate you with my lustful thoughts when you need to study. I want you to meet my siblings and my friends. I want to know your schedule and wait outside your classrooms. I want to drive you home every holiday break and hang out with your dad and Joe. I want to be with you, Lu. You get that, right?”
I nodded. I wanted to be with him too. I really did, but a part of me still thought all the things that complicated us as a couple could never really just be swept under the rug. You didn’t just flip a switch when you were a conservative senator’s son. Drew told me that himself, many times. His life wasn’t like mine. He didn’t have free will. But I didn’t say any of that. I just smiled because in the moment, I was willing to pretend it would be simple and to take whatever he was offering.
Not looking for subtle confirmation, he said, “I need words, Lu. I need to know we are in this together.”
My heart raced and my breath grew short with the feeling that constantly strangled all my fears about Drew. I felt the swell of honesty rise up from the depth of my being. It wasn’t a pretty feeling. It was akin to the moment right before you vomit. Every muscle in my gut clenched and I tried to hold it back, squelch it down, but there was no stopping it; my truth was bubbling up whether I wanted it to or not. He wanted words. So I gave them to him.
Despite the physical torture it took for the words to come forth, they came out simply. “I love you.”
His pupils went wide. Clearly not the words he was expecting. Looking pained, he tilted his head up just a smidge and his eyes fluttered closed. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed back emotion. I studied his quiet face. Everything looked tight, like maybe he was angry, but definitely upset.
I looked away and wished I didn’t say anything. I could have just kissed him. Kissing sometimes means as much as words, doesn’t it? No. I wasn’t doing this with him again. If my truth, that I loved him, was too much, then it was better that we got through it now. I took a deep breath and looked back to his face.
He pulled a breath through his nose, and then in a tone I’d never heard before, he said, “Can you say it again?”
What? Um… Could I? Maybe. Maybe I could. Above us, thunder clapped. I got distracted. “Shit, we should get inside.”
I started to turn to try to grab the picnic basket again. He stopped me, wrapping a hand around each elbow. Then he dropped to his knees in front of me, wrapped his arms around my waist, pressed his cheek into my belly and my wet shirt, and rough with emotion, he said, “Is that true, Lua? Do you really love me?”
I heard the raw in his voice, the sadness and fear of a terrified child. I lifted my hands and ran my fingers through his wet hair. He pulled me in tighter, when I said, “I do. Beyond any doubt, I love you.”
Again, he was quiet and tense as he ingested my words. Only this time I could see it for what it was; he was trying to believe me. The thunder boomed above us again. Gently, I touched his face and he turned to look at me.
“We should get inside, out of the storm. There’s a cabin…” I trailed off, taken aback by the look in his eyes. Drew was always brewing. He was always a little angry or a little sad, even when he was happy and laughing, and for the first time since I met him, he looked truly peaceful, utterly calm. He smiled up at me.
Then he stood. He took my face in his hands, and he said, “You know I love you too, right?”
As soon as he said the words, I knew that I did. Drew’s love for me was clear in so many of his actions. I felt my smile curl up between his thumbs, when I nodded. “I mean, I kinda thought maybe.”
The second kiss was less chaste. It was downright profane. It was a mind-melting heart-racing, toe-curling, vagina-clenching kind of kiss. And then, as if nature herself had grown impatient with our love affair, the sky lit up with lightning, and the thunder followed less than three beats later.
“Jesus, Lua,” Drew said sarcastically and oh so silly, “it’s downright dangerous out here. We should like get inside or something.”
45
Drew
We ran. The cabin wasn’t far. It was maybe a hundred and fifty yards down the shore of the lake, hidden by a cluster of trees. I carried the picnic basket and Lua led the way. I tried not to think about the fact that she told me she loved me. It was too distracting for my mind. I needed to get her somewhere safe, not stand there baffled by the mere possibility that I could be loved, let alone loved by sweet, sexy, smart, funny, honest, caring Lua.
I slowed as the building ahead came into full view. To call the cabin, a cabin was a misnomer. In my mi
nd, a cabin was a little wood shack with a screen door and possibly bunk beds with green felt blankets. This building was something else entirely. On one side it was a wall of wood-framed windows, facing the lake. Even the door was glass. From where I was standing, I could see that the other walls were windowless and built into the earth. This was a tiny Earthship. I never seen one before, but I’d read about them. Earthships were sustainable structures, built from natural and recycled materials like tires or bottles, and they were often insulated using the actual earth.
As a kid I’d been fascinated by architecture, devoured every book I could get my hands on. I built and drew buildings all the time, but my father said Scotts were meant for owning buildings, not building them. When I was ten, he actually burned my architecture books because they were too “distracting.” He used them for kindling while explaining why he was not going to pay for an architectural drawing class. I still loved buildings, still read about them, sometimes scribbled them, just in secret.
I couldn’t help myself. I paused to admire the Earthship.
Standing in the threshold of the door, Lua hollered at me, “Drew, come on.”
Right. I picked up again and headed for her. I rushed in, put down the basket, and turned to close the door behind me. I was surprised that with the door closed I was trapped between it and Lua’s back. Something had startled her into not moving.
“What?” I asked, looking around the space in front of her expecting to see a bear cub or a beaver or something else wild and in need of disposing. Spiders maybe? What in nature surprises or scares a girl who grew up in nature? Nope, nothing other than an amazing space. I stepped to the side to get out from behind her. It was small, simply furnished. A table, some chairs, a basic kitchen along the back wall, a bed with white sheets and a pile of towels on the end. But beyond the simplicity of the décor, the space itself was amazing. They had used bottles, the round bases facing in, stacked like bricks and then compacted with natural cement. The effect was that the walls were a mosaic of green, blue, and clear glass circles. It was like being in a cavern of sparkly sea glass.
“This is spectacular,” I said, forgetting Lua’s surprise.
“And clean.” The words sounded like her teeth were clenched.
I turned to see what I could glean from her expression. “What do you mean, clean?”
“It’s sparkling. There are flowers in that vase on the table. The sheets are crisp and white, and look, on the end of the bed, towels. Isn’t that convenient?”
“Yes?” I questioned with a hint of sarcasm because I was still not getting what was angering her.
“I bet there’s a note,” she said, not really talking to me.
Since I was deeper in the room and perhaps because I was taller, I spotted it first. A square yellow Post-it on top of the stack of towels. I crossed to it and she chased after me.
“Oh my God, don’t. Please let me read it first,” she whined behind me, but it was too late; I could already see the words, written in scrawled blue marker. “For when you get wet,” followed by a hand drawn squirting water emoji, then a heart and a dramatically scripted Joe.
I didn’t pick it up. I slowed, let her scurry around me, and tried to hold back my snicker. She snatched the note up and pressed it to her chest. She wasn’t laughing.
“Ugh, you read it didn’t you?” She pouted.
“Did you?” I smiled.
“He’s so annoying. You cannot imagine what it is like to have someone meddling in your life all the time. And he’s always so smart and so flippant about it. Like how did he know we were going to stay out there long enough to get caught in that storm?” She was raging, throwing her hands around as she ranted. “I bet the longer we’re here, the more notes we’ll find. Little digs, little jokes to remind me that he outsmarted me yet again. Pushed me to acknowledge my feelings on his watch. And always with such tongue-in-cheek, snarky messaging like he’s standing there in the background, sniggering, ‘I love that I tricked you into being trapped with the man who makes you wet.’” Realizing what she’d just said, she gave in to her embarrassment and frustration and quieted. Her eyes closed, her head leaned back a little, and her hands dropped, the Post-it hitting her leg.
I, on the other hand, had gone from gentle to beast on the crest of those words. It was one thing for Joe to make a joke and imply that Lua was turned on by me, but a whole other thing for her to name me as the man who got her wet. Whatever part of me was a gentleman left the room. I looked at Lua standing there, her jeans and her cotton shirt plastered to her skin from getting caught in the rain, and I felt my dick swell in my pants. I was done letting her call the shots. She loved me. She kissed me. She’d opened the doors. I didn’t have to control what I felt anymore. I could act.
I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. I dropped it on the wood floor. It made a sloppy wet sound and Lua opened her eyes. I bent and untied my sneakers, removing my socks and shoes. Then I went for the button on my jeans.
“What are you doing?” Lua asked.
“Well, I’m wet. My clothes are wet, so I’m taking them off.”
“But you don’t have clothes to put on,” she trepidatiously squeaked.
I pulled the zipper down. “I don’t need clothes, Lu…” With a little effort because they were wet, I stepped out of my jeans. “Because I’m gonna make love to you, devour every inch of your body like I’ve been dreaming about for months, almost a year really…” I dropped my boxer briefs into the pile. My cock was rigid with excitement, jutting out in front of me. I stroked it once and watched Lua’s hungry eyes follow the path of my hand. She licked her lips. Her breathing had quickened. I could see her chest rising and falling.
I crossed to her, took the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head, dropping it on the floor like I had mine, and then I ran my hands up the sides of her torso, leaving goose bumps in my wake. Her skin was cool from being wet and she shuddered at my touch. My dick jumped between us.
“He likes you,” I said.
I expected her to roll her eyes at the comment, but instead she looked up at me, her eyes big brown pools of nervous energy.
“I’m scared,” she said.
I crushed her to my chest and quietly spoke. “You don’t have to be. I would give up my life for yours, Lua. You own me. You are everything to me.”
“Is that even healthy?” she whispered.
“Maybe not, but it’s true.”
She giggled nervously.
“Okay, I’m going to ask this once, and obviously, if you need to change your answer let me know, but I won’t ask again.” I took a deep breath because I wanted her so much and it would be hard, quite literally, if she turned me down. “Are you ready for this, Lu? Do you want to have sex?”
She was quiet for a really long time. Okay, maybe it was just like a minute, but it felt like an eternity. She was still in my arms and I could feel the tension in her body. Lua had this amazing way of thinking with her whole being. Like the rest of us get tension in our necks and shoulders, maybe our lower backs. Not Lua. When she was contemplating something, it was like her whole body went rigid. I was just about to say something when she finally spoke.
She cleared her throat, like she was about to make a speech. The answer I wanted didn’t seem to require a speech, so I was instantly inclined to feel disheartened, but then all she said was, “Badly.”
The word ‘badly’ wasn’t the word ‘yes,’ so with a rising smile, I clarified, “You, Lua Steinbeck, want to have sex with me, Drew Scott, badly, as in you are very eager to feel…” I had been holding my hips away from her out of respect, but now I pressed the tip of my cock against her belly. “… this inside you?”
She looked up, bit her lip, and nodded yes. And that was that. Consent badge unlocked. I crashed my lips into hers while reaching for the button of her jeans. Instead of reaching for me, she moved to unclasp her bra. My hands worked at her jeans and I slipped my thumbs into her panties, pulling at
them.
She broke from our kissing. “My shoes…” she said.
“What?” I asked.
She flopped away from me, landing on the bed beside us, laughing. “I need to take off my sneakers. God, I feel like I can’t get naked fast enough.”
I knelt down, untied her sneakers, and pulled them and her socks off for her as I said, “That’s because you can’t. Hurry the fuck up. Honestly, I’ve been naked for like ten minutes. What is taking you so long?”
She squirmed and shimmied, lifting her ass as I pulled at the cuffs of her jeans, and her panties, already shifted from my earlier manipulations, came with them.
And then, like a fucking goddess, there she was displayed on the all-white background of the bed sheets, a naked Lua.
She started to move, to head for me, but I stopped her by holding my hand up. “Stay like that, just for a minute.”
“What? Why?”
“I want to savor it. Burn this image into my mind. Jesus, Lua, you’re so beautiful.” She was on her back, her legs were splayed out and her torso propped up on her elbows, hair flowing behind her.
She blushed. Then she teased, “I’m alright.”
I didn’t like the joke. I growled, not like metaphor growled, like I actually growled my disapproval like a wild dog. “You are gorgeous. Perfect even.”
She sighed. “Listen, I know I don’t look anything like all the other girls at Hamilton.”
“Oh my God.” I grabbed her ankle and yanked her toward me.
She scrambled in my direction. “First you want me to sit still; now you want me over there. God, man, make up your mind,” she mumbled under her breath.
When she was sitting at the edge of the bed, I knelt down in front of her. I spoke quietly. “Did you know I saw you before you rescued me at Bonnaroo?”
