by Lori L. Otto
“You’ve pushed me to be more than what I thought I could be.”
He smiles before pressing his lips to mine briefly. “Whole.”
“What?” He kisses me quickly again.
“More words. Patience.” Another kiss. “Anticipation.” And another. “Admiration.” A longer kiss. “Spent,” he breathes softly against my lips.
“Hey!” I argue, pushing against his chest lightheartedly.
“No, in a good way. Here’s a better one: sated.”
I laugh at that one. “What’s the opposite of sated?” I ask, kissing the corner of his mouth.
“Hungry,” he answers, his words now coming in quick succession. “Ravenous. Needing. Covetous. Wanting.” I silence him by pushing him back against the pillows and kissing him fully, my fingers clenching his short hair. He wraps his arms around me tightly, eventually rolling me onto my back and taking control of our embrace. I stop him by pulling away and looking at the door when I feel his hand moving up the back of my thigh.
He moves his hand to the side of my face, understanding my hesitance immediately. “Ravenous,” he repeats, his eyes trained on my mouth. His thumb brushes lightly across my bottom lip. I stop it with the tip of my tongue and hear the breath hitch in his throat. He closes his eyes as I move just enough to bring the end of his finger into my mouth, holding it gently between my teeth before closing my lips around it. We’re both holding our breaths as he slowly pulls his thumb away. I kiss the end of it tenderly, and he opens his eyes. They are fiery and intense, and are only a brief warning of his next kiss. Deep. Long. Reminiscent of the few that we’ve shared in our most passionate moments. His leg moves between mine, and I let myself go, let myself feel the things that I hadn’t realized I’d missed so much. I’m not sure which I notice first, the lump in my throat or the tear falling from my eye, but I choke out a quiet sob when we break apart to breathe.
“I want you,” I tell him softly, watching for his reaction. I can tell he’s trying to figure out how to make it happen. “I miss you.”
He turns to check the door, immediately pushing himself off of me. “Hey, Trey,” Jon says nervously as I sit up and pull down my disheveled dress. “How long have you been there?”
“I want you,” my brother sings loudly. “I miss you,” he mocks me, making kissing noises.
“Jackson Andrew Holland the third, you shut up this second,” I tell him, talking over him as he repeats my pleas to Jon over and over. I get off the bed and start to go after him, but he runs up the stairs, still smacking his lips together. “Great,” I mutter. “That should go over well.”
“He’s better than a cold shower,” Jon says, breathing heavily. “God, what if that had been your dad?” He rolls over on his stomach and buries his head in the pillows.
“Hopefully he wouldn’t have been a total creep and watched from the doorway,” I cringe.
“He doesn’t know what we were doing,” Jon mumbles into the bed linens. “Right? He’s too young. Right?”
“Right,” I assure him. “We weren’t doing anything anyway.” He peeks up at me and smiles.
“Yet.”
“Yet,” I repeat, walking over to the barstool and leaning against it, still trying to get my breathing to return to normal. Would I have let him do anything... more? With my parents upstairs? I wasn’t thinking. I watch him lie on the bed, wanting to be next to him. He turns on his side, pulling one of my pillows into his chest.
“It smells like you,” he says as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again. After a few seconds, I decide to join him on the bed. I sit down next to him, though, knowing that we’ll both get carried away again if I lie back down. I run my fingernails up his arm to get him to open his eyes.
“In all this, I feel awful that I didn’t ask about your mom,” I tell him softly. He rolls over on his back, but doesn’t break his gaze.
“She’s supposed to be sobering up today. I’m planning to see her on Saturday to go over her finances.”
“You’re a good son,” I tell him. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“I know,” he says with a sigh. He tugs on my arm a bit and pulls me down to kiss me.
“Does my brother know you’re both down here?” Matty says from right behind me. I bury my head into Jon’s chest, laughing quietly to myself. “Emi asked if you’d help us with dinner.”
“Sure thing.” I stand up and put my hand out to help Jon off the bed. My uncle raises his brows as I glare at him, unable to hide my pink cheeks from him as I walk past him out of my room. I glance at Jon, and his guilt is much more evident, his skin blotchy and his gaze diverted to the floor.
“Yep,” he says. “The Ever-Elusive Bedroom of Olivia Holland, it is. In stores next summer.”
“You’re so funny,” I say sarcastically as I lead him into the kitchen. Jon stands idly by the island as I finish the salads and set the table.
“You know what?” he says. “Maybe I should borrow a shirt or something–”
“You look fine,” I tell him quickly. “Really. Fine,” I flirt playfully.
“Livvy, if he’s uncomfortable...” my mom begins.
“A little,” Jon says. Matty pats my boyfriend on the back as he heads back down to the basement. He shrugs at me as I stick my tongue out at him. I set the drinks on the table as Matty tosses a shirt to Jon. He pulls it over his head and straightens the tan-colored tee over his undershirt. “It’s a little tight,” Jon says as I notice well-defined muscles in his arms and stomach. I smile broadly at my uncle, who simply winks at me.
“That’s how I like them,” my uncle says.
“You look hot,” I assure him.
“Liv,” my mom warns me. “We’re trying to make him feel more comfortable here. You’re not helping.”
“Oh, whatever, Mom.”
“I’m fine, Emi,” Jon says, taking a seat at the table. I sit next to him and poke one of his ab muscles. He grabs my finger quickly, his stare a playful warning.
My dad follows Trey into the room, and the rest of my family takes their seats around the table. It does feel comfortable, having Jon here. I love having him here. I lean my head on his shoulder, feeling a little giddy. He puts his arm around me and rubs my arm, grinning when I pull away. His expression looks just like mine.
“How’s your hand?” Mom asks as she puts food on his plate.
“I can do that,” Jon says as he takes the bowl from her. “It looks worse than it feels. I think the ice helped a lot, thank you.”
“What were you two doing down there? Did you work everything out?”
Jon takes a drink of water, allowing me to answer. “Yeah, we just talked through some things. We’re good.”
“They were doing what mommies and daddies do,” Trey announces to the table. Jon immediately starts choking on his water. Dad drops his fork while Mom sets hers down quietly on her plate. Matty starts laughing hysterically, and when I look at my parents, neither are looking at me or Jon, but rather both are glaring at my brother. My mom’s mouth is open in shock.
“We were not,” is all I can say. I have no idea how to respond otherwise with Jon coughing his guilt out into his napkin next to me.
“Six-year-olds are so much fun!” my uncle exclaims.
“Honey,” Mom says to my brother, “what exactly do mommies and daddies do?”
“I want you,” my brother says in a mocking voice. “I miss you. I love you.” Once more, he starts with the kissing noises. Mom’s cheeks turn bright pink, and my dad just continues to stare at Trey. I have no doubt he’s doing that to avoid eye contact with anyone else at the table.
“I’m not sure who this is more embarrassing for, Jacks,” Matty says to his brother, “you two or the kids here.”
“Me,” I assure Matty. Jon finally stops choking, but I barely notice because he’s now just laughing, holding up the cloth napkin in an attempt to hide his outburst. I squeeze his knee tightly under the table.
“I want you, I love you,�
� Trey continues, and starts to kiss the back of his hand.
“Jackson, knock it off,” my dad says with no hint of a smile. “That’s not appropriate.” He picks his fork back up and starts eating. “Any of it,” he clarifies, glancing briefly at Jon, then me, then back down at his food. Jon’s smile vanishes immediately. We both pick at the food on our plates.
Mom looks uncomfortable, but tries to eat, acting as if nothing has happened. Silence fills the room as Matty watches each of us look around awkwardly at one another.
“How is your mother, Jon?” Mom asks.
“I’m hoping she’s well,” he answers after clearing his throat. “I’ll call to check in after dinner. My Aunt Patty has invited Mom to move in with her until she gets back on her feet,” he says nonchalantly. I look over at him, surprised. “Yeah. We think it’s best.”
“For how long?”
“However long it takes,” he says. “She needs to make some serious changes. And her savings runs out after paying next month’s rent. Without a job, she has nowhere to stay here in the city.”
I look at my parents, waiting for one of them to offer their help, but neither do. “I’m sure you’ve thought this through,” Dad says evenly.
“Yes, Jack,” he answers. “I have.” He smiles politely and takes a bite of food.
“If you need help, you know, packing, or... whatever you need, Jon, we’ll help. I’ve got some boxes in storage.”
“Thanks, Emi. I might take a few of those.”
“What about the apartment?”
“We’re vacating,” he says.
“That’s the only home your brothers have ever known,” I remind him.
“And wouldn’t it be nice to come back to some place better?” Jon asks, clearly not worried at all about this decision. “I mean, already they’re in a better situation.” He swallows hard, and I can finally hear a little bit of sadness in his voice. “It’s best for everyone.”
I take his hand under the table and rub his thumb with mine.
“It’s fine,” he says to me again. He leans over and kisses me quickly, paying no attention to my parents across the table from us. “Really.”
“Okay.”
CHAPTER 17
“Camille,” I text my friend, “I don’t believe the rumors. I think you should just ask him.”
“Who would start a rumor like that?”
“I don’t know,” I type quickly, feeling frustrated since it seems like we’ve been going in circles for the last half hour. “We go to school with a bunch of idiots, remember?”
“He wouldn’t cheat on me. Right?”
“I don’t think he would,” I respond, wishing I was able to give her a definitive answer. I immediately send Finn a separate text, though, asking him to call me.
“I’m sick!” she explains her absence from a party most of the juniors and seniors attended last night. “He shouldn’t have even gone without me.”
“Camille, it’s one of the last parties they’ll have this year. Of course he would still go. His friends were all going.”
“His friends, the idiots.”
“Yes, those friends.” I laugh quietly in my car, checking my surroundings again and selecting a different playlist. I’d been listening to depressing music all morning, and needed something upbeat to get me in a better frame of mind. I knew I had to be positive for Jon.
“I wish you had gone,” she says. “Then I would have had one honest person tell me what really happened.”
“Finn is that person,” I respond. “I’m sure he’ll call you as soon as he gets up. Just stop worrying right now.”
“Okay,” she finally types. I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye and look over, seeing Jon before he knocks on my passenger door. I roll down the window and wave.
“Surprise?” I say cautiously.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought you some boxes,” I explain. “I thought I’d help you pack.”
He smiles, unsure. “It’s going to be a mess,” he warns me. “I’m not sure you know what you’re in for.”
“It’s fine. No judgment,” I assure him with a smile. “So I can help?”
“I guess so. But you don’t have to stay all day. Just let me know when you’re worn out.” I turn off the ignition and hop out of the car, grabbing my phone and popping the trunk.
“Wow, that’s a lot,” he laughs, grabbing as many as he can. “And yet, still probably not enough. I don’t want to throw anything out, you know? I’ll just lock it up in storage and let her go through it later.”
“That sounds like a plan.” I pick up the few that he’s left and follow him into the building. “Was it hard? Sending her off?” I ask him as we climb the stairs to his floor.
“She was in a pretty good frame of mind,” he says. “She cried. I can tell she’s disappointed in herself. And she feels like she’s abandoning me. I assured her she wasn’t.”
“Good.”
“I take it your parents know you’re here?”
“Mom encouraged it,” I tell him. “In fact, she offered to help. She says she knows someone with a truck, if you want to borrow it to load up the stuff.”
“And your dad?”
“He had somewhere to be this morning. He was gone when I got up.”
“So he doesn’t know.”
“I don’t guess so.”
“Well, it’s nice of your mom to offer, but I’ve got some friends coming by tonight. We’re going to load up everything and store it in a garage overnight. I have to give the keys to the landlord by seven.”
“Wait, I thought we had a date?”
“Just a slight break in our plans. You can come with me.”
“Okay,” I say with a smile. “Oh, and you know Dad bought a space for the gallery. With Abram out of the picture, I don’t think we’ll be renovating any time soon, so you’re welcome to store your things in there until we do. Mom said it’s fine. It’s secure. It’s free.”
“They’re too generous,” he says when we get to his door. He props his boxes against the wall and takes mine from me, leaning them against the rest.
“They like you. And these are just little things to help.”
“I’m not sure your dad does.”
“He does,” I say, trying to sound convincing. “He just may not always realize it.”
“If you say so. And again, I appreciate their offers,” he says, seemingly open to our assistance. He kisses me before we go into the apartment. “I have started a list of things to pay your dad back for, though. He knows.”
“You don’t have–”
“I have to, for me. Okay?”
“Okay.” There’s no point in arguing. I go into the living room first, letting him bring all of the boxes in.
“If we start a life together,” he says, setting everything down in batches just inside the door, “I want to start fresh.” My stomach leaps, making my heart skip a beat. I try to bite back a grin, not wanting to seem too surprised or giddy, but I can’t help myself.
“Oh. You’re thinking about the future again?” I ask him as I walk closer to the kitchen, looking around at the mess his mother has left.
“I never really stopped,” he says casually. “Olivia, I couldn’t conscionably start a physical relationship with you without having some intention of committing to you, long-term. You should know that.”
“Well, to be fair, you didn’t have those intentions with those other girls,” I challenge him, although not maliciously.
“Those other girls were not you,” he reminds me, walking closer to me. “I was thinking about you. And me, a little,” he says with a wry smile, “but mainly you.”
“You’re never selfish,” I tell him softly, knowing he’s being completely honest with me.
“Your mom’s really okay with you being here?” he whispers mere seconds before pressing his lips to mine gently.
“Mmm-hmm,” I answer, not breaking away.
“Enco
uraged it?” he continues, separating only long enough to ask the question.
“Mmm-hmm.”
He starts laughing and breaks away. “How is it, with all of our recent events, she ends up trusting us more?”
“I thought the same thing, but I didn’t dare ask the question.”
“Smart girl. I guess it pays to be honest.”
“I guess. And doesn’t it also make it more difficult to do things we’d need to lie about?” I ask him, having envisioned what could happen today–but likely won’t because of my own conscience. “It’s amazing, how they work. It’s, like, voodoo,” I mumble with a chuckle.
“Yeah. I don’t want to let them down,” he admits. “You’re sure your dad didn’t major in psychology, or brainwashing, or subliminal mind manipulation?”
“If he did, I suppose we would never know.”
“True.” Jon starts assembling some boxes with a roll of packing tape he found in his old bedroom. I look around, picking up random pictures, all covered in dust. “Maybe...” he suggests slowly. He doesn’t continue with his thought, though.
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe we wouldn’t need to lie. Maybe they know, and accept it.”
“You have clearly lost your mind, love,” I tell him. “That’s wishful thinking. That’s it.”
“I know.”
“As long as you know,” I sass.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try things, though,” he says with a shrug. I laugh at him, not arguing.
“Try as you like.” He looks up and smiles. “Where should I start?”
“I’d say the pictures.” I go to the kitchen and find the cleaning supplies, locating some paper towels, a dust rag, and some cleaning solution. “You don’t need to go to that trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. It’s your family, Jon. When she comes back, everything should be clean.”
“Including her,” he jokes.
“Well, yes. I think she can do it.” I start to remove all of the dust from the frames before carefully placing them in the boxes.
“I think she can, too. I think leaving here is necessary, though. She’s lived like this for too long.”
“I’m glad you’re behind her. She needs that, you know?”
