by Portia Moore
“That was thoughtful.”
Her big green eyes are on mine, and I feel my chest warm. I clear my throat from the way she’s looking up at me like she’s willing me to see into her eyes, to get closer and kiss her lips. I shake off the haze. It’s late, and I’m obviously tired.
“I’m gonna go put on my clothes, then I’ll take you to Gia’s,” I say, starting to head toward my room.
“Wait.” She sounds desperate as she sits up. “Why do I have to go home?”
Now her voice sounds almost innocent, but the way she looks in those tight jeans, and she’s put on some type of push-up bra because her breasts look fucking fantastic, and she’s tied her shirt in a knot, showing her belly button . . . she looks like temptation personified.
“Your friend’s not here.” My voice has a little bit of a tremble in it, and I glue my eyes to the floor. I want to look anywhere but at her. If I look too long, she’ll be able to see the lust in my eyes.
“So you’re going to kick me out?” She giggles, folding her arms across her chest.
I don’t say anything. She stands and walks toward me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was swinging her hips more than normal. She walks over to the table and grabs the glass of water I was drinking. When she’s done drinking it, she licks her lips, and her angelic eyes find mine.
“I’d like to stay,” she purrs.
God, is she serious? Please don’t let her be. I groan and run my hands over my face. Is she trying to be sexy as hell, or am I imagining this?
“Okay, you can sleep in my room. I’ll sleep in the guest room since your buddy’s gone MIA,” I say with a shrug.
I sit on the couch and try to fix my attention on the TV. I hear her behind me, then the lights go off. I look behind me and see that she’s flipped the switch. When we’re at Gia’s house, Gwen’s always turning out lights that we leave on. I expect her to head to the bedroom, but instead she sits on the couch. I swallow hard. The energy that was between us at the carnival seems to have multiplied a hundred times. She’s quiet, but I feel her eyes on me. I feel her move, and my whole body stiffens when she reaches across me and turns on the lamp beside me.
“I could have done that,” I joke to lessen the tension.
She looks at me, her eyes hooded. She only smiles. “What does your tattoo mean, Will?” She sounds more like herself than the little nymph sent here to test my restraint earlier.
“It’s a reminder that even in the dark, there’s light.”
Her lips stay parted, but she smiles with her eyes. I get up and head to the kitchen for another glass of water. It’s getting pretty damn hot in here. If she’s not going to go to bed, I will, because the energy around us, the looks she’s giving me . . . I know I’m reading things wrong. The way she’s looking at me—it’s as though she wants me, as though she’s willing me to touch her, to do things I need to block out of my mind.
“I’m gonna jump in the sack,” I say.
“Will?”
My heart races.
“Do you ever think about that night at the carnival?”
Then my heartbeat goes into overdrive. Of course I do. I think about it all the time.
“Gwen, you’re drunk. We should talk about this in the morning.” My voice sounds shaky and unfamiliar to me.
She shakes her head. “No, I’m not.” She gets off the couch and walks toward me.
I fold my arms across my chest, and she stops only inches away from me.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
I can see the necklace on her chest moving up and down at rapid speed. Her heart’s beating just as fast as mine.
“I do,” she says, looking up at me with big sad eyes. “I think about it all the time, and I wish I didn’t. Even worse, I wish that ride would have never started back up. If it hadn’t started, I would have kissed you, Will.”
I look down at her, not knowing what to say.
“I think you were going to kiss me too,” she says nervously. She inches toward me. “I have to get that night out of my mind. What if you had kissed me? I want to stop imagining what it would have felt like. I’m sorry, but I have to know.”
She brings her lips to mine. The moment they touch, I feel something, everything. I know I should pull away, she’s been drinking, but I can’t. Because as much as she wants this, I’ve wanted it too. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she presses herself into me more firmly. I pull away slightly, and she sighs.
“Kiss me back, please, Will. Do this, and I’ll never ask you again,” she pleads.
It’s like time’s stopped. I know what I do next will change everything. Even now with what she’s done, I can tell her she’s drunk and to go to bed, and in the morning, things can be the same as they have been. But do I want them to be the same? I’ve never felt this way about anyone, even her sister.
“I understand,” she says.
I hear her voice break as she lets go of my face, and I see tears in her eyes. I won’t let another one fall. I pull her toward me and make her lips mine. We move together, consuming each other as the room spins. My body’s on fire when she sucks on my tongue. The wall between us was crumbling, but now it’s collapsing. I pull her as close as I can get her.
She moans in response, and I lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist in response, and I carry her to the couch. I pull her onto my lap, and her hands run up and over my chest as we continue to kiss, each one deeper than the last. She pulls away, gasping for air, and I do the same, our foreheads resting against each other’s. She holds my hand on her cheek and kisses me softly. This one is slow, tender, and innocent, and I can feel her emotions. I wrap my arms around her back, pulling her as close as we can be.
“What happens now?” she asks. It’s dark, but I know her eyes are on mine, searching for answers.
“I-I don’t know. What do you want to happen?”
Her hands leave my chin and slide down my chest and stomach. She begins to unbutton my pants, and I lose my breath.
“We can stop now. It’s not too late to stop,” I say. I try to be strong, even though my body is weak and already giving in. I know she can feel how much I want her.
“I want this,” she says. She leans back and pulls her shirt over her head, revealing a pink lacy bra holding her breasts up perfectly. “Do you want this?”
I bring her lips back to mine. For the rest of the night, I show her that I want her more than anything.
EXECUTING THIS PLAN was a lot easier in my mind than it has been in reality over the last three weeks. Amanda unwittingly planted a seed that I doubt she would have had she known who my mystery man was. There is no way she would have encouraged me to kiss a married man. I know she wouldn’t have, but it was good advice all the same, advice I needed to hear. Now I have a plan, something to get me out of the blue period I’ve been stuck in for the past month.
I’ve planned on doing this before but chickened out. The timing never seemed right, not that there will ever be a right time to do this, but tonight it seems as though everything is falling into place. Tonight, Chris and his mom are going to see his aunt. That means that Will will be home alone, and I can make my move. I’ll get my freedom, and I can go back to being my best friend’s actual friend. Maybe I’ll make things work with Brett. He’ll make a great prom date at least, and I can stop carrying around this backpack full of guilt that feels glued to me.
Evie is working a double shift. She’s been doing that a lot since she met Jack boy. I’m starting to think she’s working to pay our bills and his, but that does allow me to have the house to myself. Not having to carry a blade or pepper spray around the house feels so great.
I was nervous all through my shift, and the extra two cups of coffee haven’t helped. I’m still jittery even though I’ve been off work for an hour. I look at myself in the mirror to make sure I look nice but not like I’m trying really hard. I’ve straightened my hair and applied some eyeliner and pink lipstick. I take a bottle
of Evie’s perfume, the really expensive kind that Aunt Dani bought her, and spray it on my neck, behind my ear, and between my breasts like I see Evie do.
“I am wanted. I am desirable. I will get what I want today,” I say into the mirror. I ignore how much I look like my mom all done up like this . . .
When Will taught me about positive affirmation, I wonder if he knew exactly what I’d be using it for one day . . . even now I’m not sure what I want. I don’t know what to call what I’m doing. I don’t want to seduce him. I’m wearing a pink sundress that isn’t tight or anything, but it displays my cleavage. I made sure my bra matches my underwear, and to be honest, this is the most primping I’ve ever done, even when going on dates.
I throw myself on my bed and rest my head in my hands. I’m really doing this? I’m wasting time moping. Whatever happens after this will be better for me. I can’t keep feeling like this. It’s like being in prison or, worse, when you’re released from prison but feel like you’re still there. I don’t even know how I want to feel, if I want to be let down . . . that would make things a lot easier. But what if I’m not let down? What if it’s the best kiss of my life and he pushes me away . . . or what if he doesn’t? That’s the place my brain won’t let me go. It doesn’t seem as if I’ll win in any situation, but at least I’ll know. I take solace in that the next time I enter this room, I’ll have answers and not more endless questions . . .
MY STOMACH FEELS as if it’s on a roller coaster as I stand on the front porch after I’ve rung the bell twice. I hear his footsteps approaching. When he opens the door, I swallow my nerves. His eyes widen, and a bright smile spreads across his face.
“Lisa, it’s good to see you,” he says.
I feel relieved that he’s excited to see me after I practically ran away from him like a crazy person the last time I saw him. He had to have been as embarrassed as I was because Chris didn’t bring it up. Will’s beard is now closely shaven. His hair seems longer, a little wilder, and I want to tame it for him. He’s wearing a wife beater, and I see a tattoo on his left arm. It’s the moon with clouds around it.
“I’m glad you said that. I just wanted to apologize for how I acted at the restaurant,” I say, folding my hands together.
He gives me a sexy smirk—I wonder if he knows it’s sexy.
“No, you were fine. I just—I was a little confused.” He chuckles while leaning in the doorway.
“I can see how you would be,” I say with a giggle, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. I rub my arms to signal I’m cold. “Can I come in?”
His eyes meet mine, and I see him swallow hard. Does he know? Do his years of life experience—he’s so much older than me—give him superpowers to read my mind?
“Sure,” he says after a moment of hesitation.
I smile gratefully. He steps back and allows me to pass. It’s been a long time since I’ve come into the house through the front door. I don’t know what made me use it. The TV is blasting one of those sports stations Chris and Aidan watch. He has a pizza box open on the table and a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting next to it.
He walks past me and turns down the television. He looks a little embarrassed, and it’s cute. He runs his hands through his hair. We stand around awkwardly for a minute. In my wildest dreams, I’d just walk up and kiss him, but I didn’t factor in that he’s so much taller than me. He’d have to let me pull his head down or lift me up to kiss him, and I’m not strong enough to force him without this going extremely wrong. Shoot, I should have worn heels, but that would have been stupidly obvious.
“Can I sit?” I ask, feeing all the butterflies that lie dormant when I’m around any other boy wake up and parade around my stomach.
“Sure,” he says, gesturing to the couch.
I sit and try to inconspicuously let out a deep breath. He sits in the chair across from me and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s so relaxed, more than I’ve ever seen him before.
“So that day at the restaurant when you ran out,” he asks, but not in a way that makes me feel awkward. He’s not stiff and distanced as he was that day. He seems . . . curious maybe.
I smile. “I shouldn’t have run out like a little girl.”
He smiles one of his glorious smiles that makes my heart flutter.
“I was kind of embarrassed,” I say, feeling my nerves getting the best of me.
He nods with a glimmer of a grin. He clasps his big hands, and my eyes drift to the tattoo on his arm. I want to touch it. I want to rest on it. I want to live there on his moon hidden away behind the clouds.
“I figured that,” he says, his voice like a lullaby. “I never meant to make you feel that way.” He sighs, and I can see clouds form behind his bright eyes. “I don’t know if I did something to make you feel too . . .” His eyes are glued to his hands. He’s moving around in his seat . . .
No, no, no. This conversation is about to go in a direction I definitely don’t want it to go.
“You didn’t do anything,” I say. I’m afraid he’ll say something that will destroy the courage I’ve mustered to come here, killing any spunk I have now. “It’s not what you do.”
His eyes reluctantly meet mine. Color rises in his cheeks.
“It’s just who you are. It’s how you make me feel—your voice, your energy. Everything about you made me say what I said that day,” I say, begging his eyes to meet mine.
They do but only briefly. He sits back in the chair and lets out a deep sigh, picks up a cup near the Jack Daniels bottle, and takes a swig from it. He shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You have a crush. Maybe I remind you of your dad.”
“That’s not it!” I shake my head.
“Lisa, I-I’m flattered, believe me,” he says, his blue eyes on mine, and I feel my heart sink. “But I can’t—you can’t, you can’t say things like that to me.” His voice is soft, caring, and it warms up every part of me regardless of his words.
“I meant every word! No one makes me feel how I do when I’m around you.” At this point, I’m desperate. I have one shot, and since I’m going to walk away from this embarrassed no matter what, I want to leave with no regrets.
He looks at his feet.
“I’m not saying that I’m in love with you. I really don’t know what I feel because I’ve never felt it before—for anyone. And I know you’re married and you’re my best friend’s dad, but I can’t go another day without knowing if this is all in my head,” I say pleadingly.
His head snaps up. “It is. I promise you, Lisa. You need to leave before you do something you’ll really regret,” he says as if it pains him.
I stand and take a deep breath. My heart feels as if I’m running a marathon. I walk to him and stand between his legs. He looks up at me confused, almost afraid, but there’s something else I can’t read. Whatever that is, even if it’s just curiosity, it drives me onward.
“Do you not feel anything?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
I’m standing over him, and he leans back, looking at me. I’ve never been this close to him. My legs are against his knees, and even though he’s not touching me per se, my entire body is on edge and warm. I can’t leave this house without kissing those perfect lips that seem to be quivering right now.
“Lisa, please.” His voice has dropped an octave, and I feel as if it’s vibrating through me. His eyes drift over my body, taking in every inch of me, and my stomach clenches. Just the way he’s looking at me has made me hotter than anything any boy has ever done to me. He swallows hard. I see the conflict in his expression. He’s fighting a silent battle with himself, and I want him to lose.
“You’re a very beautiful girl, but what you’re saying—doing—is crazy—”
That’s the last word he says before I silence him with my lips. The second I do, it’s as if my body wakes up. I feel every nerve in it. His lips are so soft, and they’re still but parted just enough for me to take his upper lip in my mouth. I gently bring
my hands to the back of his head and run my hands through his hair. Our lips fit perfectly together, and even though he’s perfectly still, it beats every other kiss I’ve ever experienced.
I feel the anticipation building. He hasn’t pushed me away, and that’s all the invitation I need for more. I climb on his lap, wrap my arms around his neck, and feel fire move through my body as I kiss him a little more tenderly. When his hands move to my waist and he pulls me closer, I feel faint. His mouth opens, and his tongue enters my mouth, filling it. His kiss is artful and more experienced than any other I’ve had. I feel heavy but light-headed as our kiss gets deeper, so deep I feel as if I’ll be one with him soon.
The longer I kiss him, our tongues devouring one another’s, the more heat comes between my legs. It’s frustrating but the best feeling I’ve ever had. I feel his length press against me, and when I would usually move away from it, I lean in and feel it pressed between my thighs. I let out a soft moan while our tongues wrap around each other’s. I press against it again and faster and faster. I can’t control the whimpers coming out of my mouth.
He starts to guide my hips against him, aiding me in the absolute pleasure building and building. His own breathing becomes deeper. It’s coming faster and faster. I’m no longer kissing him. My head is thrown back as I concentrate on feeling him through the hard, rough jeans that feel like heaven through my cotton underwear, which is soaked. He squeezes my butt and presses me hard against him, and his mouth starts to devour my neck, sucking in my skin like it’s air he needs to breath. We move in sync, rhythmically, more rapidly, desperately. I dig my fingers into the couch, clawing it as I move against him. Then, I feel an explosion that no boy has ever been able to make me feel, and as I tumble over the edge, I moan his name loudly, and I can’t stop panting. My legs are quivering, and the hardness I felt underneath me is gone.
We sit there, both catching our breath, my body still reeling. I rest my head in the crook of his neck and feel our hearts beating in sync. I lean back to look at his face. His gaze is on the ceiling. Tiny sweat beads are on his forehead, and I wipe them. His eyes are closed, and his breathing normalizes. When it does, his eyes almost snap open, and he looks at me. For the first time, his eyes don’t smile at me. They’re like glass. I think there are tears in them, and that scares me.
