I shove the pepper spray into my pocket and hurry to his side. “What happened to you?” I lift up on my toes and pick debris out of his hair before he can answer.
“Tripped over a tree root.” He stares at the trees with narrowed eyes. “It’s like the Forbidden Forest in there. Big-ass spiders tried to eat me, and I think I saw a centaur.”
I chuckle as I pluck a blade of dried grass from his eyebrow. “I take it you’re not a Harry Potter fan?”
“Not anymore.” He scans me up and down, his blue eyes incredulous. “How are you unscathed?” His lips curl up in an impish grin. “Oh, I get it. You’re doing Hagrid.” He cocks his head to the side, suddenly serious. “Is he bigger than me?”
“Nobody’s bigger than you,” I say without thinking.
He puffs out his chest like a gorilla. “Damn straight.”
I’m surprised he doesn’t beat his pecs to flaunt his manliness. I’m about to punch him in the chest to deflate his ego but stop when I notice a drip of blood coagulated on the arm pressed to his chest. He lifts away the hand cradling it, and underneath is a nasty scrape at least an inch long. Blood trails wind down to his elbow.
“Come here,” I say, leading him to my stuff. If one positive thing can be said about me, it’s that I’m always prepared. I pull out a Band-Aid and an antibiotic spray. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to figure out where you go every Sunday night.” He looks around and snorts. “The woods? Really? I was hoping for a lesbian rendezvous. Where’s the orgy?”
I slap the Band-Aid on with a little too much force. “You’re disgusting.”
He winces. “Glad you’re not getting a nursing degree, because your bedside manner sucks.”
I glare at him. He shouldn’t know about my secret place. He’ll turn it into field-party central. I can just imagine Josh crashing through the forest with a keg. Tyler’d be on his heels with a case of red Solo cups. Bringing up the rear would be a gaggle of scantily clad girls who’d pause every few seconds to yank their high heels from the soft earth.
“You’re stalking me, Tyler.”
“I’m not stalking.” He shrugs and picks dried blood off his arm. It flakes to the ground by his feet. “I was just curious.”
“If you’re staring out your window, waiting for me to leave so you can follow, that’s called stalking.”
“I can’t help it if our living room window’s in the perfect spot to see the comings and goings of Liz and Cassie. And don’t think you’re special. I know Liz gets an ice cream cone on Thursdays after the gym. She also leaves every Wednesday at eight and comes back at midnight.”
“She does?”
He nods.
“Where does she go?”
“I was going to ask you that.”
I roll my eyes. “God, Tyler, you’re like the creepy old lady with twenty cats who sits by the window with binoculars.”
He slips his fingers through his hair, dislodging a flurry of dead grass. “No. I’m the hot twenty-two-year-old neighbor who plays too much Xbox.”
“Oh.” It suddenly makes sense. Tyler’s living room has two windows. One overlooks the porch, and the other, the one right next to the TV and the Xbox console, overlooks my house. If he’s playing Battlefield all day, he’ll see us coming and going. “It’s still stalking if you follow.”
“Like I said, I was hoping for some blackmail material.” He turns in a circle, taking in our surroundings. “What exactly do you do out here? Should you be coming here alone? At twilight? Is that safe?”
When he faces me again, I pat his cheek. “Aww. You’re worried about me. That’s cute.” And a little disconcerting.
He growls and grabs my hand. “You didn’t answer my questions.”
“Stargazing. Yes. Yes. I bring pepper spray, and you’re the first person I’ve ever run into out here.”
“Stargazing?” He drops my hand and looks at me as though he’s seeing another girl, one he didn’t know existed.
I nod. I’m running out of time to calibrate my telescope. I grab the blanket and scan the meadow, deciding on the perfect spot to view the meteor shower. The temperature’s still in the nineties, so I head toward the lake where a cool breeze blows off the water.
I glance over my shoulder at Tyler. Since he’s out here, he might as well make himself useful. “Bring my stuff, please.”
He clutches the handle of the telescope case and lifts. “Jesus. What’s in this thing?”
I unfold the blanket, whip it up in the air, and let if fall back to the ground, fully spread. “A telescope. Be gentle.”
He lays the case on the blanket, opens it, and lets out a shrill whistle. “That thing looks powerful. Want me to set it up for you?”
“Do you know how?”
“Put it on a tripod and point it toward the sky?”
“Not even close.” The sun will set in only ten minutes, and calibrating in the dark is a bitch, especially since I forgot my light. Any other Sunday, I would have been pissed, but I’m here for the meteor shower. Mars is just a nice bonus, but it’s not going to happen. I shake my head. “Forget the telescope.”
“I could help you.” Tyler leans over the telescope, dialing nobs and pushing buttons.
“That’s okay.”
After a minute, he seems to lose interest in the telescope. He kicks off his runners then makes himself comfortable on my blanket, reclining on his elbows with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He stares up at a hawk making lazy circles in the sky. I watch him suspiciously, wondering why he isn’t leaving. His curiosity has been satisfied, and this can’t be considered a titillating evening by Tyler’s standards.
“Um… Tyler, you don’t have to stay,” I say.
He tilts his head toward me and smiles charmingly. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No.” I sound uncertain even to myself.
It’s not that I want him to leave, it’s more that I’m unsure what motivated him to follow me in the first place. If it were curiosity alone, shouldn’t he have already left? Is he here to spend time with me? If that’s the case, does it mean he’s getting attached? The thought sends an unwelcome shudder up my spine, and I stifle an annoyed groan. I thought I was most likely to get emotionally involved, but now I wonder if Tyler’s the weaker link.
I shake my head to clear my mind. I’m here to watch a meteor shower, not scrutinize my relationship with Tyler. I’ll have plenty of time to do that later. I sit next to him and turn my attention to searching his clothes for ticks. He’s wearing a navy blue Beastie Boys T-shirt and jeans with holes in both knees. Not the store-bought holey jeans, but the kind that have actually been worn too much. As usual, he looks hot without trying, but his getup isn’t the most practical for the woods. The tears in his jeans provide perfect portals to his skin.
“Sit up,” I tell him after shutting my telescope case.
“What about stargazing?”
“I don’t have time to set up the telescope, especially when I need to pick ticks off you before it gets too dark to see them.”
His lips curve up in his one-sided cocky grin. “Are you trying to get me naked?”
I twirl my finger, motioning for him turn. “You don’t need to strip.”
“I don’t have ticks.”
“Do you want to risk Lyme disease?”
He does as asked, sitting cross-legged with his back toward me. I run my hands through his dark hair. It’s fine but thick, and I love how soft it feels slipping through my fingers. Even Justin Beiber would be jealous of his hair, but I’m not about to tell him that. His head would explode from the building pressure of his ego.
He moans, tilts his head back, and closes his eyes. “You have magic fingers.”
I gently scrape my nails down his scalp. A lump passes beneath my fingers. I rise on my knees and spread his hair around the tiny tick. “Found one.” I pluck it and squeeze it to death. No blood oozes out. “Didn’t bite you yet.” I toss it i
nto the grass and wipe my hand on my jeans.
“Do I need to check you next?” he asks, sounding a little too eager.
“Nope. I bathed in bug spray before coming out here.”
“Is that what smells so bad? I thought you were wearing eau de bug bomb.”
I chuckle as I check under his shirt. I do smell disgusting, but being stinky is better than worrying about ticks and mosquitos. Pulling the waist of his jeans back, I check between the band of his boxers and his skin, getting a tantalizing glimpse of his ass. Considering how often we have sex, I should have the curve of his muscular bottom memorized, but I never get to see it in full light. By the time he’s down to his boxers, the lamp’s off.
Tyler turns his head, and I get a glimpse of his perfect profile—strong nose and chin, eyes that turn a deeper blue in the golden glow of the setting sun. “You’re good at picking nits. Did your sock monkeys teach you that?”
“Har har. Very funny.” I snap the elastic of his boxers, satisfied by the sound as it assaults his skin.
He shakes his head but leans into me so his back rests against my thighs. His head cradles between my breasts.
“You need to check your legs,” I say.
He nestles deeper into my cleavage. “In a minute. I’m too comfortable to move.”
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and lay my cheek on top of his head. His hair is so silky, I can’t help but move my head to feel the softness glide against my skin. Tyler clasps one of my hands to his chest, drawing his long fingers between mine in a soothing back and forth motion. This feels like something a couple would do, but we’ve been making so much progress on cutting down our nights together, I decide not to let it bother me—for now.
“Why do you collect sock monkeys?” he asks, staring out at the gently lapping waves.
I debate if I should tell him or not. The story’s simple. When I was ten, my next-door neighbor and best friend Sophia dumped me for Abigail down the street. I’d called to ask her to play, and she told me she was cleaning her room. Later, I saw her out the back window playing tetherball with Abby, and I was heartbroken. It was summertime, and for weeks I sulked around the house until my mom shipped me off to Grandma’s. I stayed with her for two weeks, and during that time, she taught me to sew sock monkeys.
She’d told me, “Honey, nothing’s so wrong that a sock monkey can’t make it right.”
What she’d really been teaching me was how to rid my mind of a bad situation long enough to find peace. For the few hours needed to put a monkey together, I’d forget the sadness and focus solely on cutting, sewing, and stuffing. When I finished, I had something cute to show for my efforts and a few hours’ reprieve from the hurt.
I never stopped making them. When Jeremy dumped me, I made a sock monkey. When I had to drop my first college class because I was struggling with pledging and keeping my grades up, I made a sock monkey. When Wyatt dumped me, I made six sock monkeys. Like stargazing, making sock monkeys will stay with me forever. Maybe someday I’ll teach my children, or if kids aren’t in the cards, my nieces.
Tyler squeezes my hand, bringing me back to the present. “We don’t need rules, Cassie. You can tell me about your life.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he sounds hurt by my silence. I don’t want to make him feel bad, but opening up to him about something as simple as a stuffed animal collection means sharing a part of myself. Sharing is something couples do, not hug buddies. We’re still tangled together like lovers with a future, but I’ll never give my heart away again—at least not for a long, long time. I slowly untangle from him, lifting my cheek from his hair and unwrapping from his shoulders.
He turns to face me, his expression guarded. I don’t want to be the reason for his drawn brows and tight lips, but I also don’t want to blur the lines of our relationship. Just having him at my secret spot seems enough to confuse the boundaries I’m trying so hard to protect.
“Why are you here, Tyler?” I ask, searching his face for a drop of emotion. His expression stays perfectly dry.
He shrugs. “I told you. I was curious where you go every Sunday night.”
“But now that you know, why are you staying?”
His eyebrows knit together, and he traces the crease of my inner arm, following the little circle with his gaze. He seems to be considering my question and taking his time finding the right words. I can practically see a slew of different answers pass through his blue eyes. His shoulders drop a fraction of an inch, and he tilts his head toward me, regarding me with a strange coolness that doesn’t match his tender caress.
“I don’t like you coming out here alone.” He never takes his eyes off me, as if he’s drinking in my reaction. “It’s dangerous.”
His expression’s so somber, it makes my stomach knot. “You’re serious?”
He nods tightly. I wait for him to smile playfully and say, “Ha ha! Fooled you into thinking I care!” But when he doesn’t, I know we might have a problem.
“You’re worried something’s going to happen… out here… to me.” I say each word slowly, weighing their meaning.
His grim expression never wavers. I don’t know if I should try to alleviate his worry or bring up the bigger issue, the one where I’m concerned he’s grown attached to me in ways he shouldn’t. I start with assuaging his concern since broaching the subject of feelings terrifies me.
“A killer isn’t going to hang out in a state park after dark unless he’s into poaching too. The biggest danger I face out here is coming home smelling like a skunk.”
His normally full lips mash into a cruel slash. “Some guys are opportunistic, cupcake. If they see a pretty girl out here by herself, I doubt they’d want to kill her.”
My stomach does a double roll at what he’s implying. “I have pepper spray.” He shakes his head, but I keep going, determined to wipe the stern look off his face. “I know this forest well. Even if someone does find me out here, I could make it back to my car before they recovered from their first spill over a tree root.”
He sighs and lies down on his back, hands behind his head and one thigh pressed against mine. “I don’t like it. From now on, I come with you.” He sounds pleased with himself, as though he’s come up with a perfect solution.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
“You’re not coming out here with me.”
“You don’t understand, Cassie. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. I will come out here every Sunday with you whether you like it or not.”
Again, I wait for him to laugh and tell me the look of shock on my face is hysterical. But he just lays there watching me, chin slightly jutted and brows raised as though he’s daring me to protest. The longer he goes without cracking a smile, the more my jaw drops. He’s dead serious.
Anger bubbles up from my gut like a thermal spring. This is my spot. Where I go to get away from everyone. How dare he try to take it away from me! If he thinks for one second I’ll let him crash my party, he’s one confused man. “No way in hell am I letting you babysit me. I’m a grown woman. I can go to the lake by myself if that’s what I want.”
His jaw hardens. “This isn’t up for discussion. I’m coming. Get used to it.”
In the words of Freddy—“Hell to the no!” I jump to my feet and curl my fingers into tight fists. “What gives you the right to barge into my territory and take it over?”
He sits up and glares at me. “The day you asked me into your bed, I got rights.”
“Have you lost your freakin’ mind? The only right you have to me is on the nights I ask you over!”
“You’re being unreasonable. There could be snakes or rabid skunks. It’s dangerous out here by yourself.”
Unreasonable? That’s exactly what Wyatt said the first time I came out here without him. But the next day, he realized he was an idiot and let it go. I look down at Tyler, wondering when he morphed into a controlling boyfriend. Not even Wyatt had been so hardheaded.
&nbs
p; I’m horrified by what I’m about to ask, but I have to know. “Tyler… do you… care about me? I mean… as more than a fuck buddy?” I wait for him to answer, aware his words might change everything between us. He opens his mouth to speak, but I blurt, “If you do have feelings for me, we have to end this.”
I don’t know why I interrupted him. Maybe I need him to understand the repercussions of his answer. Maybe I want to keep him so badly, I’m hoping my words will make him say no even if it’s not the truth.
At first he flinches, then his expression goes slack long enough to make me dread his answer. A split second later, I swear I see hurt fill his eyes, but a fire consumes it so quickly, I can’t be sure.
He smiles haughtily which, coupled with the fury in his gaze, makes my insides twist. “Maybe I’m just protecting my sure thing. I doubt you’d be a very good fuck after you got raped. Too much baggage with that one.”
I suck in a hissing breath. It’s the answer I hoped for, but it sure isn’t the way I wanted it delivered. A simple, “No, I don’t have feelings for you,” would have sufficed.
I drop to my knees and latch my telescope case. Then I gather my first aid kit and stuff it into my bag, refusing to look at him. I’d never thought of Tyler as heartless. Distant? Aloof? Impossible to tame? Sure. But never cruel. One of the reasons I invited him to my bed is because under the I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude seems to be a nice guy who cares about his friends. But after that biting comment, I’m pretty sure I’m wrong about him. He’s just an immature college kid if he can so crassly turn a rape victim into used goods.
He’s sitting on the blanket watching me pack, so I decide to leave the blanket for the rabid skunks he claims roam these woods. With my equipment slung over my shoulder, I stand, turn, and hurry away as fast as I can while carrying twenty pounds of gear.
“Cassie!” Tyler calls.
With my back to him, I flip him the bird. “If I ever get raped, Tyler, I’ll be sure to take my baggage elsewhere.”
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