Definitely, Maybe in Love

by Ophelia London

  “But still, I’m torn on this subject,” Henry continued. “I realize that arrogance is supposed to be a turn off.” There was a smile in his voice. “I guess my being sucked in by your wily ways was all part of your plan.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said after a laugh. “My plan. You fell right into that. It only took seven months.”

  He laughed softly and stared at the sky again. “Really, what would your reaction have been the night before vacation if I’d kissed you?”

  “You mean tried to kiss me?” I corrected, letting go of his arm to run my finger over his chin.

  He scoffed—that charming arrogance. “There would’ve been no trying, Spring,” he said. “What would you have done?”

  “Most likely I would’ve punched you in the stomach,” I answered, running my finger back and forth across his bottom lip.

  Henry was quiet for a moment. “And then what would you have done?” he asked. “After I kissed you a third time, I mean.” The man was nothing if not persistent.

  “Probably kicked you in the ribs.” I propped up onto my hands, my face hovering over his, only to lower myself down, settling halfway on his chest, my nose at his neck.

  Henry slid his hands inside the back of my shirt. It seemed to be his favorite place to linger, like his neck was to me. We both needed to feel skin. It was a little surprising how I never once felt nervous or uncomfortable, scared about what might happen next. More importantly—unlike with every other guy—I was never once bored.

  “And after a fourth time?” he asked, sounding relaxed.

  “Haven’t you had enough rejection?” I whispered, planting kisses down his neck and taking deep inhales.

  He didn’t reply. His hands slid out from inside my shirt and ran down my back from my head to my waist, long strokes, like he was painting me. I tilted my chin so I could see him, but his gaze was turned away, as if purposefully ignoring me. His eyes seemed to be intently focused on something else now, something he was holding in his hand on the other side of me, but I couldn’t see what it was.

  His free hand cupped the back of my head, his fingers kneading tenderly. He turned his other hand toward the light, and I could finally see what it was that he was fingering so gently. It was one of my braids.

  Almost reverently, he moved it to his mouth and kissed it.

  Chapter 24

  “Spring. Spring? Spring!”

  “What?” I gasped and jolted forward, my seat belt yanking me back. In the process, I banged my elbow against the cooler on the seat next to me. After multiple blinks, I focused on Mel’s face between the two front seats.

  “What’s the difference between a crow and a blackbird?”

  Sheesh, is that all?

  “Sorry, were you napping or…?” Her gaze slid two spaces over.

  I also took a quick glance in that direction. Henry was staring out his window at the passing scenery of pines and telephone poles. Fist at chin, his expression totally blank.

  I breathed out quietly and returned to Mel, rubbing my elbow. “Umm, blackbirds are small, waders, they have specific songs, while crows are larger.” I forced myself to be thorough. “For example, ravens are commonly referred to under the generic umbrella of crow.”

  “Ew! Ravens are huge and creepy,” she complained.

  “Right?” I agreed, nodding eagerly.

  Satisfied, Mel returned to her seat, relaying my information to Tyler, who was driving us back to Vancouver.

  I rounded my lips and released a quiet exhale, sending another sideways glance toward Henry.

  A little grin was on his face now, but he was still looking out the window. “You were thinking about last night, weren’t you?” he guessed in a voice only I could hear.

  I hissed air through my teeth to shush him.

  “Yeah.” He blinked slowly and gave me a very intense look. “So was I.”

  “And what about those little blackbird things? The tiny ones?” Mel asked, turning to me again. Before I could answer, her expression bent. “Are you okay, babe? Your face is totally flushed.”

  I was about to lift my hand to check the temperature on my forehead, but Dr. Melanie beat me to it.

  “No, you don’t feel hot.” She grabbed my wrist. “But your pulse is going like a hummingbird and your hands are freezing. Here.” She tossed a blanket over the seat to me. “It’s probably making you too cold sitting between the window and the cooler. Ty, why didn’t you dump out the ice? Tyler? Henry, help me move it. No, this way.”

  Mel deftly leaned over the seat, unlatched my seat belt and pulled me forward by the arm so Henry could push the cooler over, leaving me in the middle seat next to him.

  “There,” Mel said, examining my new position. “Much better.” She nodded and returned to her seat. “We’ve still got four days to go. Mustn’t get you sick.” She started barking at Tyler to watch the road.

  I sat stock-still, Henry right beside me. I didn’t have the guts to look at him just yet, but I could feel his shoulder shaking in a suppressed laugh. I tried to casually lean away. He leaned away as well, propping an elbow on the armrest.

  A moment later, the blanket over my lap moved slightly, and I felt Henry’s hand on my arm, then it slid between my back and the seat. My eyes popped open and I stared forward as his fingers tiptoed up. I couldn’t help arching my back, my breaths becoming shallow.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, trying to regain control of my faculties. He laughed quietly, his fingers manipulating the very sensitive nape of my neck. My back arched again. “S-s-stop…” I almost whimpered.

  “Why?”

  “Because.” I bit my lip. “Because if you don’t stop, I’ll start purring. Do you want to explain that to them?”

  His smile grew but he did remove his hand and set it on his knee. “Spring,” he whispered, “do you honestly believe they think we were up all night discussing old times? That was a brilliant explanation, by the way, as to why my sleeping bag was still rolled up in the corner of the tent.”

  “They know?” I gasped under my breath, my eyes moving to the front seat where Mel and Tyler were in the middle of a lively debate over the GPS.

  Henry shrugged. “I didn’t say anything. After you jumped a foot away from me when Mel came out of the tent this morning, I figured you wanted to keep it between us for now.” He tilted his head. “Is this weird for you? Us?”

  “A little,” I admitted in a whisper. “I’ll tell her later tonight. She’s going to make such huge deal about it. I just… I don’t…”

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Henry said. “In fact”—the blanket over my lap moved again—“I like making you purr.” His hand slid up the inside of my shirt, his fingers tracing the line of my spine.

  “I…” I actually did whimper this time. “I think I’m gonna have a stroke.”

  “Kiss me,” Henry whispered. “You’ll feel better.”

  The suggestion made me bite my lip, but I managed to pull it together and lean back on the seat, squishing his hand, forcing him to pull it away.

  “No?” he mouthed when I shot him a look. He groaned in frustration then unbuckled his seat belt and lean forward between the two front seats so he could check out something on the dashboard. He peered out the windshield at something else. After a moment, he sat back and buckled in.

  “Less than a quarter tank of gas left,” he reported out of the corner of his mouth. “I happen to know there’s a gas station ten minutes away. I’m sure we’ll be stopping to fill up, and they will be busy pumping gas and bickering. Won’t even notice.” He lifted a mischievous half smile, still staring straight ahead. “I suppose I can wait until then.”

  “Wait to what?”

  He turned to me, his expression all business. “Well, Spring, since you obviously won’t let me ravish you now, I’ll have to wait till we stop.” Without moving his gaze from me, he nodded out the window. “Once there, I will peel you from this car, drag you behind the building, and properly devour you
in private for five minutes. Deal?”

  My stomach made a weird kind of synchronized flex-and-flip, then melted like butter on hot toast. Still eyeing me, Henry began drumming his fingers on his knee impatiently. When his gaze slid to my mouth, that flipping in my stomach went into overdrive.

  Butterflies, I realized. Henry Knightly was giving me butterflies.

  “Deal!” I blurted.

  “What?” Mel asked, looking back at me.

  “Oh, ummpp.” I puffed out my cheeks and gave a huge, dramatic shrug, pointing out the window. “I don’t— Nothing.”

  After she returned to Tyler, I released the air from my cheeks.

  “You should be an actress,” Henry said. “Complete natural.”

  I pressed my lips together, suppressing a laugh. His fingers were still tapping his knee. I stared at it, wishing above everything I could touch him. Well, maybe not above everything. Maybe—

  “Do you mind if I change the subject?”

  I ran a hand across my clammy forehead. “Please.”

  “That night before the end of semester, when I asked what you wanted out of life, you told me you want to change the world.”

  “Yes?” I said, tugging my lip, irritated that Tyler was driving so freaking slow.

  “What did that mean, exactly?”

  “I may have been overshooting that night,” I admitted. “Making sure to outdo you.”

  “Diabolical.” Henry grinned.

  “But right now, for example, my Local Communities class is setting up a comprehensive recycling program using Palo Alto as a prototype.” Appreciating this distraction, I crossed my legs and fingered one long braid. “We’re hoping to branch out to San Francisco, maybe get some national exposure.”

  “Recycling?” he repeated skeptically.

  “Baby steps.”

  “You know, there’s no definitive proof that recycled goods—paper specifically—is using less finite resources. Your trees are still in danger.” He tapped his chin with his index finger. “I only bring it up to help you know your facts. That, and on a personal note, there’s always the rise I’ll get out of you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You love that, don’t you?”

  “Not to mention the topic of land development in the Great Basin.” He grinned. “Did you add that to part nine of your thesis?”

  “Oh, um, no.” My butterflies were temporarily netted. “I’ve actually been having a little problem with that section.”

  Henry looked at me, all teasing gone from his countenance. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “When?” I lifted my brows. “You were gone.”

  His eyes didn’t move from mine. I could see a flicker of confusion in them at first, then comprehension. And then regret. I felt regret, too. Or at least a tiny hint of it. Last semester, hadn’t I decided that I’d relied on him too much? Trusted him when I should have been independent? Because, when he was gone, I felt worse off than before.

  “Spring.” He leaned over, pressing his shoulder against mine, holding it there. “We’ll work on it together.” He lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, I…I don’t know your schedule this semester. Can we meet at the library on the first Thursday we’re back?”

  “I think I have that evening free.”

  “Hand me your phone.” But he didn’t wait, he just grabbed it from the outside pocket of my purse and tapped in a few words. “It’s on your calendar now. Don’t be late.”

  “I won’t, and thank you,” I said, a little amazed by how easily I accepted his help again.

  For a few seconds, I felt a void between us, a wall, as if we’d reverted back to platonic student/teacher mode, like last night never happened.

  Just as a new kind of regret was about to seize me, he took my hand under the blanket, then moved it onto my lap. His eyes were smiling, and I wondered if he could sense the utter relief I felt the moment he touched me. He flipped my hand over and skimmed his fingers across my palm, between my fingers, up my wrist, tracing a circle.

  “We’ll meet on the top floor of the Meyer,” he said, sandwiching our palms together, trapping heat. When our eyes met, he gave my hand a squeeze. “There’s a study room behind the stacks. It’s the only one that has a lock.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Think about it.”

  “It’s a date,” I said.

  “Wear that T-shirt from our food fight.” His eyes gave me a quick up-down. “Dead sexy.”

  When I inhaled, every molecule of incoming oxygen was tied to that clean, spicy, manly smell, his scent that I’d been breathing in for the past twelve hours.

  “T-ten minutes to that gas station, you say?”

  “More like two now,” he corrected after a glance out the window.

  “We’re stopping to fill up,” Tyler announced.

  I shot a glance at Henry. He smirked charmingly.

  The car slowed, and we idled, waiting to turn left into a small Chevron station. There were no other cars pumping gas. Tyler was instructing Mel on what exact snacks he wanted from the mini-mart, then he turned his head to us, asking what we wanted. Henry and I declined, almost in unison. Tyler also announced that both he and Mel would be using the “facilities” first, and we’d have to wait our turn. He added that we might want to wander around because he was going to fill the tires, too.

  The plan was flawless. I pulled on my lip and stared out the window, my mouth a combination of cotton-dry and salivating. I wondered if I would be able to wait until we were behind the gas station like Henry planned.

  After approximately one million years, the car finally pulled up next to the gas pump. Tyler grabbed his wallet from the visor and climbed out of the car. He opened Henry’s door, expecting that we would be getting out. Tyler headed toward the store.

  Mel was fussing with her seat belt. Taking way too long.

  My heart pounded behind my ears.

  “You guys staying here?” she asked without turning around.

  Henry’s fingers wrapped around my hand as he answered Mel that we were staying. Mel climbed out and was about to close her door when Henry called out, “Would you mind picking up two bottles of water?”

  Mel was wearing sunglasses, so I couldn’t see her eyes. Without missing a beat, she nodded and shut the door.

  “Preemptive measures,” he explained. “I plan on dehydrating you this time. Even things up.”

  “You think of everything.”

  He leaned toward me, a pouncing mountain lion look in his eyes. It was all I could do to hold up one finger to stop him. Over his shoulder, my eyes followed her. I could count the seconds in my head, the number of steps it would take until both Mel and Tyler were inside the store. My calculations gave us six seconds more.

  Henry was on me in three.

  What took him so long?

  Chapter 25

  “Mel said she’d be downstairs any second.”

  “Yeah, right.” Tyler chuckled. We both knew it would be more like hours.

  After returning from the kitchen, he sat on the couch and grabbed a Sports Illustrated, while I was cross-legged on the floor at the coffee table, attempting to skim a chapter in my Women of the Twentieth Century textbook.

  Grueling.

  I’d planned on napping on our two-hour drive back to Vancouver, but Henry’s little pit stop made that entirely impossible…

  “I missed you,” he’d said the second Mel and Tyler were inside the mini-mart. A bit too preoccupied with his neck to notice, not until my feet hit the ground did I realize that Henry had actually picked me up in his arms, carried me out of the car and around to the back of the gas station.

  We’d used every second of those five minutes: Henry backing me up and pinning my hands against the stucco building. Henry holding me still then running his mouth up and down my neck until my knees gave way. Henry intertwining his fingers with mine. Despite all the kissing that had gone on the night before, the simple, certain gesture of repositioning his grip so he could weave h
is fingers between mine felt hugely intimate.

  “Time’s up,” he’d said into my hair, releasing me. But I’d made the scandalous decision to give us an extra ten seconds, by first pressing my palms against his chest, feeling his strong, pounding heart, then slowly sliding my arms around him. I lifted up on my toes, hooked my chin over his shoulder, then clasped my hands behind his back, sealing us together.

  No lips, no tongues. We were hugging.

  “Ahh, this is…very…” He exhaled a little moan when I’d squeezed tighter, making our bodies a single line. “Springer.” His breath hitched. “Now you’re making me purr—”

  “Are we a tad sleepy this evening?”

  My eyes popped open, suddenly realizing where my mind had been. Tyler was still across from me on the couch. I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

  “Maybe you and old Henry shouldn’t have stayed up all night, hmmm?”

  “This is a boring subject,” I offered, tapping a yellow highlighter to my open textbook.

  None of us would be getting much rest tonight either, because once Mel hauled her fashionable behind downstairs and Henry showed up, the four of us were heading to Portland to see a concert.

  After reading the same sentence three times, I allowed my head to drop down on my book, resting on one cheek. If I had thirty seconds of quiet, I knew I would be out like a light.

  “Sooo…” Tyler broke the silence again. I was amazed by how that single word was laced with so much insinuation. It was a strain to lift my head, but I managed. His big blue eyes twinkled, regarding me just as Henry had this morning. I wondered when it was that I’d become completely transparent.

  “You and Henry, eh?”

  My spine elongated indignantly. It was a natural reflex. “Me and Henry, what?”

  “Hey now, I’m just shooting the breeze while we wait,” he defended. “I don’t like silence. But…you know what I meant.” He made slobbery kissing sounds.

  I rolled my eyes. “Nothing happened between us.” But it was a ridiculous, useless attempt. If he was anything like his cousin, Tyler would see right through me.