Untouched: a Cedar Cove Novella

by Melody Grace

  “Fine.” I answer shortly. I'm already counting the minutes until I can see him again, but after the look of panic on her face last night, I don't want to cause her any more grief. “Whatever you want sounds great.”

  I spend the next couple of days sneaking texts to Emerson, under mom’s constant supervision. I know I'm eighteen now, and technically free to do whatever I want, but there's something so desperate about her mothering that the guilty part of me finds it easier to give in. Carina as good as ignores her these days. My sister spends all her time out tanning on the beach, bitching to her friends on the phone about how bored she is. And dad? Well, he's either sleeping off a hangover, or quietly drinking his way to a new one, sitting on the porch with a thick novel and a Long Island iced tea, “since it is vacation, after all.”

  I don't care. I don't care about anything now, not with Emerson flooding my memories, taking up every free corner of my mind. I find myself drifting off, lost in the thought of us together on the beach that night. It takes my breath away, every time. I can be rinsing dishes at the sink, or standing in line at the 7/11 for milk, and in the blink of an eye, I’ll be gone, back there again. The warm sand pressing into my back, Emerson’s hard body pressed down the length of me. All day, I can feel the burning imprint of his hands on my skin: the soft tease of his fingertips, tracing down my torso; the possessive graze against my breast. I have to snap out of my reverie and catch my breath, blushing furiously, trying to keep the memories at bay until I'm alone in my room and can let the scene play out to its end: Emerson's jaw clenched with tension as his fingers work their sweet magic and send me spiraling into a hot, dark world of pleasure I've never known before.

  “I’m going to teach you. You’re going to come so many times, you won’t remember your own name.”

  I lay in bed, hearing his low rasp like it was inches from my ear. Morning sunshine pools on the floor through the open window, I can hear the sound of the waves crashing on the beach below, but if I close my eyes, I’m back in his arms, aching for him. I can't stop my hands from playing over my stomach, circling lower, my pulse kicking as I imagine my hands are his, my searching fingers, his own…

  My cell buzzes with a message, and I snatch my hands away, as if caught. I roll over and grab the phone from my nightstand, heart skipping another beat when I see it's from him.

  I have to see you. Pick you up in 20 minutes.

  There's no question, just a statement. Sure and certain.

  I leap out of bed and quickly dress, picking out a cute sundress to throw on over my bikini. I stuff a sweater into my beach bag, grab my camera and wallet, then pad cautiously downstairs. I’m ready to deflect mom's questions, but instead, I find she's still in bed, looking tired.

  “Are you OK?” I ask, lingering in her doorway.

  She gives me a smile, looking up from her book. “Just a bit under the weather. I think I caught a chill yesterday, you know how the winds get at the beach.”

  “I told you to pack a sweater,” I tell her. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He took Carina back to the city for the day,” mom replies. “She has that engagement brunch, one of her friends.”

  “Oh,” I pause. “Do you need me to bring you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Mom waves away my concern. “You look nice, where are you going?”

  “Just, out.” I answer.“I thought go for a bike ride,” I add quickly. “Take a picnic or something and spend the whole day out. Let me know if you need anything. I can bring you back some soup.”

  Mom waves away my concern. “I'll be fine. You go have fun.”

  “OK, see you!”

  I skip downstairs and out the door before she can take it back. My heart races with guilty relief. I don’t want her ill, but with mom in bed, I have the whole day to myself. To Emerson.

  I send him a quick text to let him know the coast is clear, and ten minutes later, his red truck comes speeding up the dirt road. I meet it at the end of our driveway, hopping up into the passenger side almost before he's even stopped moving.

  “Hey,” I say, breathless. I've got a smile a mile wide, but I can't help it. Eagerly, I drink in the sight of him: worn white shirt pale against his golden tan, muscles taut and straining under the fabric. He's wearing faded jeans, and flip-flops, Ray-Bans on, and all the windows down. I can’t help but bring my camera up, and snap a photo, right there.

  He looks like summer, like everything good and bold and dangerous in the world.

  Mine.

  The world whispers in my mind, but I push it down. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Juliet, I warn sternly. You don’t know what this is.

  “Hey yourself,” he grins, easy, and slides his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in for a long, lazy kiss. My heart is racing as I taste him, mint and coffee, and something else, something all Emerson.

  Last night was hot and hard, but this is slower, languid. He teases my mouth open, his tongue finding mine as his fingers gently twist in my hair. I exhale, sinking into him, the sun beating hot and the stereo playing something that sounds like summer.

  “Hey,” I whisper again, when we finally come up for air. “I missed you.”

  I hear the words leave my mouth and freeze, embarrassed, but Emerson's smile only grows wider.

  “You ready?”He puts the truck back in drive, and then slings his right arm around my shoulder. I snuggle closer, reveling in the touch of him.

  “Ready for what?” I ask, as he turns out of town.

  “This is our first date.” Emerson announces.

  “Really?” I laugh. “I thought we were a long way past that.”

  Like, three bases past.

  I blush at the reminder, and I can tell from his wolfish grin that Emerson's thinking the same thing.

  “A girl like you deserves a real date,” Emerson declares. “Not just groping in the dark somewhere.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, I kind of liked the whole groping in the dark thing,” I say, amazed at my boldness.

  Emerson laughs. “Only kind of? Sweetheart, if that was you kind of liking something, I can’t wait to see what happens when you love it.”

  “You'll just have to find out then, won't you?” I tease.

  “Oh, I will. Believe me, baby. I've got plans for the two of us.” Emerson gives me that look again, dark and wild. He curves his lips into a teasing grin.

  I feel a rush of anticipation, so strong I have to catch my breath and look away.

  “So, where are we heading?” I ask in a new voice, fighting to keep my heart from bursting straight out of my chest.

  “I know a spot, inland, there's a place to swim, and sunbathe. Private,” he adds.

  “Let me guess, it's your regular hookup spot,” I say, feeling a stab of disappointment.

  “No.” Emerson's reply is simple and honest. Without looking away from the road, he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips, grazing the skin of my knuckles with a kiss. “You're the only one, Jules.”

  I feel warmth blossom in my chest like sunshine. I kick my feet up on the dashboard and sit back, in the thrilling safety of his embrace.

  The miles fly by, in a haze of closeness and music and cool summer breeze, until Emerson turns off the highway and down a dusty back road. We drive out into the country, fields and overgrown woodland getting thicker as we head into nature, with not another soul around. About ten miles down the track, Emerson pulls off the road and parks up by the grass. He hops down, and comes around to get my door, lifting me to the ground.

  “Wait,” I say, reaching up to loop my finger over the top of his T-shirt. “Got to tip the driver.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Emerson grins. He lets me pull him down to meet me, finding my lips with his, cool and soft and sweet. I lean back against the truck and just revel in the kiss, so simple, out here, away from it all. We’re alone with the birdsong, and the wind in the trees, with all the time in the world.

  Finally, I let him go. Emerson fetches a blanket
and a beach bag from the bed of the truck, and then takes my hand and leads me out through the woods. We follow a dirt track winding through the trees, with wild-flowers growing and leaves shading the path. “You’ll love this place, it’s the best-kept secret in town,” Emerson tells me, pausing to help me over a fallen log. “Locals only, no outsiders allowed.”

  “Do I need a special pass then?” I laugh.

  “Nope. I’m local enough for the both of us.” Emerson winks at me.

  We follow the path another ten minutes or so, until we reach a clearing in the trees. I gasp. The swimming hole is edged with reeds and moss, cool and clear in the sun. A tree juts out over the water, with a tire hanging from a rope. Sunlight dapples through the branches, falling in bright patches on the grassy banks.

  “It’s beautiful!” I exclaim.

  “You really like it?” Emerson looks bashful. “I know it’s not fancy or anything—“

  “Are you kidding? It’s perfect!” I hug him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  He kisses my forehead then pulls away. “Last one in the water pays for it!” he calls, stripping off his shirt and kicking his flip-flops aside as he races for the pool.

  “No fair!” I protest, hurrying to pull off my dress.

  Emerson charges into the water with a whoop and a splash. I follow a moment later, shrieking as the cold water hits my skin. I pause in the shallows. “It’s freezing!” I call.

  “Scaredy-cat!” Emerson wades back and scoops me up, spinning me out into the deep side of the pool. I fall in with a splash. My feet find the bottom and I push back up, surfacing with a splutter.

  “I’m going to get you for that!” I yell, splashing wildly at him. Emerson dives under and grabs my legs, lifting me up as I struggle, helpless.

  “Oh yeah?” he teases, “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Hmm,” I pretend to think about it. “Maybe, this!” I grab a handful of floating moss and algae, and shove it down on his hair. Emerson laughs and falls back, arms locked tight around my waist so we both plunge back into the cool, clear water.

  We splash around until my fingertips start to pucker, then lay out on the blanket, talking quietly and basking in the midday sun. I curl against Emerson’s chest, lazily tracing the outline of his tattoos.

  “I wish we could stay here forever,” I breathe, gazing up at the sun-drenched green canopy overhead. “It’s so peaceful, away from everything.”

  And everyone.

  Emerson turns his head to look at me. He reaches over, and gently brushes a lock of damp hair from my cheek. “Me too.” he sighs.

  “You ever think, what you’d be doing if you didn’t have to stay here?” I ask, curious. He’s told me about Brit and Ray Jay, about being the only one who can hold down a steady job – or three – to make ends meet for rent and bills.

  Emerson shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  “Think,” I encourage him.“Anything, anywhere. Whatever you want.”

  Emerson exhales in a long sigh. “I don’t know,” he says again, “Maybe, go to the city. Atlanta, or Charlotte. Somewhere they don’t know anything about me. Or my mom.” He trails off, thinking. “I like it at the bar,” he adds. “Jimmy’s a good guy, but we could do more, to bring in business. Maybe I’d like to have my own place someday. Something that’s all my own.”

  “You will.” I lean over and kiss him on the shoulder.

  He shrugs again. “It’s stupid, I probably shouldn’t even think about it.”

  “What did I tell you?” I sit up now, looking down at him. I place my hand on his chest, above his heart, feel the steady beat, strong and true. “Well?” I prompt, waiting.

  His lips curve in a soft grin. “It’s never stupid to hope,” he repeats my words back at me, but there’s still a reluctance there, like he doesn’t really believe it.

  My heart aches for him. Sometimes hope is all that gets me through, hope that one day, I can make a life for myself without the coldness, and rejection, and insecurity I’ve lived with ever since I was old enough to notice it. Hope’s been my constant friend, the light at the end of the tunnel. But Emerson gave up on hope, a long time ago. He doesn’t even think he has the right, anymore.

  I’ll just have to hope enough for the both of us.

  “You can do it, one day.” I lean down, and gently drop a kiss on his eyelids, his nose, along the line of his jaw. “I believe in you.”

  Emerson tightens his arms around me, holding me against his chest for a moment.

  “What about you?” I feel the question as a rumble. “College in California, right?”

  “Right.”

  There’s silence. Suddenly, the future is a loaded gun, waiting for someone to pull the trigger.

  I lay there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Funny, how just a couple of weeks ago, California was all I could think about. Finally getting away and putting the whole country between me and my past.

  But now, that distance would divide me from Emerson, too. Thousands of miles away from his kisses, hours from his heartbeat.

  I feel a chill cut through the warm haze of this perfect day, and I can tell from the new tension in Emerson’s body, he feels it too.

  Two weeks.

  How can things change so completely in two weeks? Or, even less than that. A day, the first day I met Emerson. The very first moment. We were strangers. I walked around in this world, not even knowing he existed, and now leaving the arms currently wrapped around me seems almost unthinkable. I belong here, I know it, with every instinct in my body.

  It’s too much to think about right now, not when we’re having such a blissful time. I push all my worries down, and trace the tattoos that wind across Emerson’s bicep and side.

  “I should get one,” I decide.“A bird maybe. A sparrow, or a blue jay.”

  “Jaybird, huh?” Emerson repeats it with a smile. “You sure you’re up for it? Hurts like a motherfucker,” he warns me.

  “I can take it. I’m strong.”

  “Oh, really?” Emerson laughs, rolling suddenly to pin me beneath him. My pulse skips, feeling his delicious weight pressing into my wrists, my hips. His mouth grazes down my throat, and I shiver, staring up at the trees above us.

  “Sure. I could take you in a fight,” I tease, closing my eyes. His tongue blazes a trail down my chest, nudging my bikini top aside. I let out a soft moan as he licks around my nipple, soft and hot against my cool skin. His body tenses above me, fingertips digging into my flesh, and I marvel I have this effect on him.

  The dark look in his eyes is just for me. The catch in his breath, the low groan as I buck my hips up against him… I’m doing this. I’m driving him wild.

  Suddenly, I push my wrists out, breaking his hold. I flip, rolling on top of him so I’m straddling his lap. I pin his wrists against the blanket, looking down at him with a teasing smile. “See?” I tell him, laughing. “I’ve got you now.”

  “You sure about that?” Emerson thrusts his hips up against me, and now it’s my breath that’s catching, feeling the friction, the ache twist tighter. Yes. He breaks my hold, the weight of my grip nothing to him. He sits up, wrapping his arms around me, trapping my arms across my chest. I’m caught, helpless in his lap, feeling the heat of his body all the way through me.

  “Surrender?” he teases, grazing his lips along my jaw. I twist to try and kiss him, but he ducks back, holding me in place, forcing me to wait.

  My heart races. Desire is flooding through me, unfamiliar, but sharp and hot in my veins. I want more of him. All of him. My body is aching, a way I’ve never felt before, and everything I want is right here, in Emerson’s eyes.

  “Make me,” I whisper. His eyes flash dark, and then he’s tumbling me to the blanket again, body hard against me, and California and my future is far, far away again.

  EMERSON

  We spend hours out by the swimming hole, talking and kissing and touching. But neither one of us bring up the future again, and no matter how
close we come to going all the way on that old blanket, I hold us back from the edge.

  It doesn’t make sense. She’s ready for it: curious and gasping under my kisses. All I want is to possess her, completely, but something stops me from taking that leap. I tell myself it’s to protect her: make sure she’s truly ready, before crossing the one line she can’t take back. The secret is, it’s not her heart I’m protecting here. It’s mine.

  “I don’t want to go home, not just yet.” Juliet sighs, as I drive us back to Cedar Cove.

  I look over. She’s heartbreakingly beautiful, sitting with her feet up in my passenger seat. Her damp hair is drying in the breeze, and the afternoon sun warms her skin. She’s smiling over at me, so carefree it hurts, and for a moment, I think about skipping our exit on the highway and just driving forever. Her and me, and the open road, nothing holding us back.

  But we can’t. I have Brit and Ray Jay, and my mess of a mom, and she has a tomorrow planned out that’s got nothing to do with me.

  Pain strikes through me, just thinking of her plans.

  “So what do you want to do?” I ask, reaching over and taking her hand. I squeeze it tight, like I can hold her here, right in this moment, forever. “We could go back to mine, have dinner with Brit?” I suggest.

  Juliet brightens, but then she pauses. “Are you sure that would be OK?”

  “Sure.” I bring her hand to my lips. “She was bugging me about meeting you again.”

  Juliet laughs. “OK then,” she agrees shyly, “That sounds great.”

  I take the turn out to my house, trying to ignore the other stuff my sister said about Juliet.

  She’s a summer girl. That means she’s leaving.

  Maybe we could be different, I argue with myself, silent as Juliet hums along with the radio. Maybe we could be long-distance, while she’s still in school, and then…

  Then what? A cruel voice mocks. You’ve known this girl ten days. You think she’s going to give up her future, after just a few kisses?