by Sally Henson
I roll the waistband of Lane’s sweatpants one more time and smooth the T-shirt. Too bad it doesn’t smell like him. I may have to sneak in his room and find his body spray. He headed to his parents’ bathroom to shower as I walked in here.
When I step out of the bathroom, Lane’s hugging his sisters goodbye in the space between the living area and kitchen area of the great room. He’s so sweet.
He’s wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a tight T-shirt. His hair is wet. I love the way he can comb his fingers through his wet hair and it looks sexy. He’s always had good hair like that.
“Make sure you take some selfies with Dad’s phone and send them to me,” he says, talking to the girls but grinning at his dad.
His dad shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Don’t worry,” Lilly says. “I will.”
“Oh, Regan.” Mrs. Cary catches sight of me padding down the hallway. She holds her arm out, wanting me to come closer. “I have your clothes in the washer. It shouldn’t be too much longer. Just pop them in the dryer when they’re done and you’ll be good to go. Okay?”
I nod and give her a hug. “Thank you. Sorry for all the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. I’m glad you two still have fun acting like ten-year-olds.” She rubs my arm. “You’re still cold.”
I nod, rubbing my own arms. “I’ll make some hot chocolate or tea or something.” If she knew what that “something” actually meant, they would not leave Lane and me by ourselves.
“We need to go,” Mr. Cary breaks in, stepping toward the door with a wave. “Bye, son, Regan.”
“Bye.” I give the girls a quick hug. “Have fun. I can’t wait to hear all about it. I’ve never been to the ballet.”
Leah zips her coat. “Lane said he would take us out to eat. We’ll tell you all about it then.”
“That way he can’t back out,” Lilly says.
Lane steps beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulder. He gives them a grin instead of snapping back at them. “Have fun.”
The rain has stopped. For now, at least. Lane and I watch out the door as they climb in the car and take off. My stomach does a little flip. Alone at last.
I turn in his arms, facing him, and slide my cold fingers under the hem of his shirt.
“You’re cold.” He jumps back, pulling my hands into his. “What do you say we make hot chocolate and watch a movie?”
“Okay.” I follow him into the kitchen and grab the mugs while he rummages for the hot chocolate. My mind kicks into overdrive, playing out all kinds of ways more than kissing with Lane might be.
“What’s wrong?” Lane’s suddenly beside me. I have no idea how long he’s been watching me stare at the mugs.
“Hm? Oh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” I look up at him and realize that was a mistake because he latches onto me with that look. The one that looks through me, into me, deep to my soul and sometimes reads my mind or makes me spill my guts.
I pinch my arm to break the spell and turn on the one-cup hot drink maker. Lane doesn’t seem to notice it’s a diversion. He places the little cocoa cup in the machine, and I press the button for our first cup.
“Do you have marshmallows?” I ask, keeping my eyes trained on the hot stream of liquid pouring into the mug.
“Maybe.” He steps away to look in a cabinet, and my muscles relax.
I didn’t even know I was so tensed up. Why should I be? It’s Lane. And me. And we love each other. Maybe it’s because you’ve never thought in your whole life about doing anything like this?
That’s not true. I have. It’s just it has always been a future experience not right this very night or moment.
“No marshmallows.” He steps to the fridge and looks inside. “We have whipped cream though.”
I nod, trying to smile so big, he knows what I’m thinking. “Even better.” He surprised me coming home tonight, and I didn’t plan on having a chance tonight. But with his parents gone…
He shakes the can on his way back. I swap out the cocoa cups and mugs for the next drink. He swirls the sweet fluffy goodness on top of the cocoa, making it look like the twisty ice cream on top of a cone.
“Want a shot?” He squirts some in his mouth, causing his cheeks to puff out.
I laugh and poke at his cheek. “You look like a chipmunk.”
He swallows it down, trying not to laugh because he’d end up spitting that all over me.
I hold my mouth open for him to shoot some canned whipped cream on my tongue. He overfills, and I’m certain I look like the same furry little creature I lovingly pointed out he resembled. Except the cream doesn’t all fit with my mouth closed. It slides down my chin.
Lane’s eyes widen with mischief, but I beat him to the action by pressing my lips to his. I make sure to share the blob of sticky sweet on my chin too. His body shakes with laughter, and he kisses me despite the mess I’m smearing on his face.
The thought of him leaving for Spring Break has me moving faster than I normally would. I part my lips and Lane welcomes the mixture of sweet cream as we deepen our kiss.
My stomach dips, releasing a few butterflies. I need to be closer to him. I slide my hands around his waist and bring his body against mine.
He does the same.
My fingertips find their way under his shirt, and he presses his weight against me until my backside is braced against the countertop. My breath gets caught in my throat at his action.
Even though my heart is pounding, and the butterflies are on the edge of losing control, I push us further to the closeness I’ve been wanting.
Tonight is a gift.
I dip my fingers between the elastic waistband of his pants and trail his warm skin. Slowly inching lower until he freezes.
Lane ends our kiss and searches my face like a maniac. Our heavy breaths fill the air. I want his lips back.
Just as I tug him closer, he takes a step backward and does an about-face, bumping into the island. “I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “What do you want to watch?” he asks, making a beeline to the remote to turn on the TV.
“Wait,” I breathe out. I’m dazed from his kiss and being so close to his fit body. Why did he leave? Speak, Regan. Spit the words out.
Lane tosses the controller on the sofa and jets out of the room and down the hall. I hear a door close.
My chin nearly bounces off my chest from him leaving me hanging. I didn’t even get the chance to answer his question. That kiss was going somewhere.
I clean the stickiness from my face at the kitchen sink. If we’re going to move things along tonight, he needs to know I liked what he was doing and didn’t want him to stop.
Maybe he was apologizing for stopping? I shake it off and finish both mugs before setting them on coffee table.
The door opens from the bathroom. “I’ll be right there,” he calls.
The thought of staying over here instead of Tobi’s popped in my head when he said his parents would be gone. If he’s gone over Spring Break, this will give us both something to hold on to, right? He’ll miss me more. Should I talk to him about what I’ve been thinking about or just do it?
My heart pounds so hard thinking about it, I need a minute to calm down.
I look for a blanket to snuggle under with him while we watch TV but don’t see one laying around. So, I cross the room to the hall and make my way to Lane’s bedroom. I peek in through the open doorway and see Lane, back toward the door, perched on his bed. “Hey,” I say.
His shoulders flinch. “Holy crap.” He cranes his neck to see me. “I didn’t know you were there.”
I snicker. “I scared you for once. What’s that like?”
He shakes his head, wearing a sheepish grin. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was embarrassed.
I tilt my head with a passing wonder and make a move. “Want to have a campout on your sofa?”
“What, like when we were kids?”
I step into his room and climb acros
s his bed, saddling up behind him. “Not exactly.” I slide my hands across his shoulders. A whiff of his musky cologne hits me, and I press a kiss on his skin, breathing him in.
“Let me change,” he says, patting my arm. “And then we can pick out a movie.”
“You don’t need to change. It’s just me. Besides, I’m wearing your clothes. I don’t exactly look my best.” I had to flip the waistband of his pants so many times they barely cover my underwear.
He mumbles under his breath, “That’s what you think.”
“You like my outfit?” I ask with a giggle. A girl in guys clothing? Not very attractive.
He stands, grinning. “Yeah. Let’s go watch TV while your clothes are washing.”
He’s got to be joking. I puff out an amused laugh and grin back. “Grab your quilt.” I snatch the pillow off his bed, tucking it under my arm, and head back to the sofa.
Lane follows me to the living room. “Careful there.” He chuckles. “Don’t trip over your pant legs.”
The legs of the pants are long. So long, they drag the floor with every step. I glance over my shoulder. He shoots me a wink with that grin of his. “I appreciate your concern.”
Lane settles on the sofa, flipping through the channels with his legs stretched out to the coffee table and the quilt wadded up on his lap. Not exactly what I had in mind. I don’t think Lane understands what I was getting at with the campout suggestion.
After about ten minutes of wrestling with what to say, twisting my stomach into a nervous ball of knots, the washer signals it’s done. I stand and trek to the mudroom. Shivers run through me. While I transfer our clothes, I search for what to say to the boy I love.
Lane, would you like me to stay over?
Lane, what if I stayed at your house instead of Tobi’s tonight?
Lane, it’s so cold. Maybe I should stay so you can keep me warm.
Ugh. I don’t know how to say it.
I start the dryer and go back to the living room. When I get back to the great room, Lane’s lying on the sofa. Finally. I slide under the blanket on the few inches in front of him, nose to nose, and whisper, “Hey.”
He smiles and pushes the hair out of my face. “Hey.”
I rub my lips together and force myself to keep going. “I was thinking.”
His eyebrows arch. “That’s a surprise.”
“Ha.” I push my clasped hands against his chest.
He grins even bigger, leaning his forehead against mine. “This is nice. Just the two of us…like this.”
I bite my lip for a second. My heart bounces against my chest with what I’m about to say—what’s about to happen. I swallow, but my mouth is so dry, it sounds like a giant gulp. “So you think I should maybe hang out with you tonight, then?”
His hand slides down my arm and rests on my hip. “You are hanging out with me.” He kisses my cheek. “Silly girl.”
“I’m thinking all night. Like, camp out at your house instead of Tobi’s.”
He stills. Kind of like he did in the kitchen. He puts some space between us. “Stay overnight? Here?” he asks, wide-eyed. “With me?”
I nod and slide my fingers up his chest and cup his face, bringing his lips to mine.
Lane kisses me once and sits up, planting his feet on the floor, looking back and forth between the TV and me.
It’s out there now, but my heart didn’t get the memo. It’s fluttering as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. “Your parents won’t be back, right?” I ask, leaning against the back of the sofa.
He nods but says nothing.
Even though my hands are shaky, I continue because I thought we’d make plans to share this over Spring Break. But that’s not going to happen. “My parents think I’m staying at Tobi’s.”
He focuses in on me. “Does Tobi know about this?”
“I didn’t even know you were coming home.” That statement is true. Neither did Tobi. If he’s asking if she knows I want more with him, he’ll have to actually ask that question. I’d rather keep that bit of information between Tobi and me.
“Yeah.” He blows out a breath and runs his hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck as if it’s sore.
I swallow and scoot to the edge. “It’s perfect timing.”
He coughs. “What do you mean by camp out overnight?”
I scoot closer and shift to sit on his lap. His eyes search mine for answers. They’re the ocean I want to dive into and swim the deep. I trail a light touch from his brow, down the side of his face, and along the soft stubble of his jawline. This calls for brave words. The raw honesty of my heart’s desire that scares the crap out of me to think, let alone say, out loud.
I look into his eyes and do what comes so easily to Lane—share my heart. “I love you,” I breathe. “I want to be closer to you.”
His eyes shine, but he doesn’t move a muscle. Meanwhile, my heart is beating so fast, I’m positive at any moment it will break loose and fly out of my mouth. That would totally ruin the moment. Unless I throw up, which is definitely a possibility. Still a mood killer.
“We don’t—” he swallows, “—we don’t have to do that. I love you. I’ve loved you for probably ever, but you don’t have to prove anything.”
He’s so patient and amazing…sometimes he doesn’t even seem real. I continue the trail from his jawline down his neck, shoulders, arms…“I know. I want to. I’ve been thinking about it.”
His throat bobs. “You haven’t said anything.” His hands find my hips.
His touch sends electricity to my belly. I slide my hands up his chest. “That’s what I’m doing. I’m telling you. How I feel.”
He pulls me into a hug, resting his chin on my shoulder. I love the way his hands cover my back. “I think maybe the campout you want is jumping off of a bridge right now.”
I shake my head. “We jump off the cliffs together. That’s pretty much the same thing.”
His body shudders with a chuckle. “Apples and oranges, sunshine.”
I pull back to look at his face. “I thought you wanted to be closer too.” Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want me like that. I don’t want to see the rejection in his eyes, but I force myself to keep eye contact.
“Regan.” He shakes his head as if he’s clearing his brain of extra thoughts. His fingers tighten on my waist, and I hold my breath, waiting for whatever he’s about to say. “Yeah, if I’m being honest, I think about it too.”
I let out a breath. Not rejection. “I thought it would happen during Spring Break. We were going to spend all this time together, and…” I shrug. I don’t want him to be gone. But how can I ask him not to go? If I had the chance and my dad would let me, I’d go to Eckerd for the summer.
“I thought we were waiting. For marriage.” His gaze turns into his soul-piercing stare that probes my insides.
Waiting for the day I married the man of my dreams has been the plan ever since I knew what sex was. Even before. I vowed to wait, but— “We’re getting married someday, right?” I nervously trace circles on the back of his neck with my fingertips, hoping he answers without a trace of doubt.
“Absolutely. That night I told you I love you, I meant every word I said.” He kisses my cheek.
My body sighs with relief. The way we are right now, this is the “more than best friends” we are. “All the plans, all the rules I’ve made for myself…they’ve all been broken or taken away. Except you.”
“We have loads of time for that when we’re ready.” He says it so calmly, but the rise and fall of his shoulders proves he’s as worked up as I am.
I grasp at the back of his shirt, wadding it into my palms, and kiss him on the mouth before I whisper, “What if I’m ready now?”
“What if I’m not?” he whispers back.
I lean back, cocking my head to the side. He’s two years older than me. Aren’t older boys supposed to be more into being physical? I mean, they’re older. That’s what I heard some girls say on the bus during volle
yball.
Heat rises on my neck, probably coloring my cheeks. His face is unreadable. Silence hangs in the air between us.
“I’m sharing the thoughts that freak me out here. Obviously making a fool of myself…” I trail off, wanting to slink away to the bathroom and hide my embarrassment until my clothes are dry. Then Lane can take me back to Tobi’s, or better yet, home so I don’t have to face anyone.
I make a move to get up, but Lane grips my waist.
“Thank you. For telling me. I know it’s tough to say what’s on your heart like that.” He lifts my chin. “I want to be closer too. I do. I just don’t want to rush anything. And with us being apart for two weeks…I don’t think now is the right time.” He presses his lips to mine, once, in a soft kiss.
I want him—need him. I want this. “I don’t think knowing each other our whole lives is rushing things.” I bite my lip, hoping he agrees. His eyes roam over me. I lean in and kiss the spot on his neck I know he likes. “I want to be as close to you as humanly possible.”
“You’re not making this easy.” He groans, adjusting our position until his forehead is pressed to mine. “I think you’ll regret it. And that would break me. Or worse, ruin what we have.” He speaks so gently, it doesn’t feel like rejection even though I know it is.
25
REGAN
The bus nears the top of the hill where my phone finally gets cell signal. I hold my breath and stare at my phone, hoping a new message from Lane comes in.
Lane: Morning
He sent me a kiss face emoji too. I let out my breath, and a groan slips out with it. For the second day in a row, he hasn’t sent me a “good night” or “I love you” message before he goes to sleep. He was doing that every night before he rejected being closer with me.
Me: Morning
Lane left to go back to EIU Sunday earlier than usual. He said he had homework to finish. Even though it didn’t feel like complete rejection at the time, things seem off between us. What if he is looking forward to us being apart over Spring Break? I lean my head against the cool window.
