by E. K. Blair
When I finally drag my lips off of hers, she stays close, and I keep her that way until she falls asleep. I watch her; I can’t help myself. I have her arms around me and spend a lengthy amount of time stroking her back, touching the bare skin along her neck, her arms, her jaw, before falling asleep with her.
I’m awake. She’s doesn’t know it because I’m greedy and don’t want to move away from her. She woke up a few minutes ago, but I lie here with my eyes closed, arm around her, legs tangled with hers. It feels too good to disrupt, so I don’t.
I wonder how she’s feeling after last night. A thousand questions start to rack my brain, and now I fear that I’ll never get that again. So for now, I pretend to sleep.
“Night night over,” I hear Bailey’s voice declare, and I know the pretending is done.
“It’s not over, Bailey,” I mumble, just wanting a few more minutes with Candace. I feel her shift, but I keep my eyes shut, and I know I’m busted. I don’t care though.
“I eat bweakfast. Night night over.”
“Okay,” Candace whispers and begins to slip out from my hold, but I tighten my arm around her and pull her back to me.
“Where are you going?” I ask, finally opening my eyes.
“To go get her something to eat.”
She slides out of the blankets, and I can only hope that I’ll be able to get her in my sheets again. That I can continue to have her like I did last night.
I roll over and watch as she settles Bailey with a bowl of cereal. Getting up, I make my way into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee while Candace busies herself with Bailey, peeling a banana for her.
“Want some?” I ask as she walks back into the kitchen.
She keeps her eyes down and gives me a nod. Fuck. She doesn’t want to look at me. She’s embarrassed. Nervous. Not what I was wanting.
“Umm, I’m gonna sneak upstairs and get cleaned up,” she says as I rip open a packet of sugar for her coffee.
After I stir in the cream, I hand the mug to her, and she finally meets my eyes. Timid. She quietly thanks me and stands there for a moment, staring at the steam floating off of the coffee. I’m scared to know what she’s thinking so intently about, but I ask anyway.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just want to get ready before everyone wakes up.”
“Okay.”
I know she just really needs to get space from me, and I have no choice but to accept it as I watch her head upstairs to my room.
I wander over and sit down next to Bailey at the table as she smacks on her cereal. Nursing my cup of coffee, I decide that I’m not gonna let her shut down. I don’t want her feeling uncomfortable, so I’ll get her out of the house and take her to one of my favorite places. I need to talk with her. Be honest. Let her know where how I’m feeling because if I don’t, then she’s just gonna continue to feel awkward for the next couple of days that we’re here. I try to not think about what she’s going to say. None of this is in my control and not having that power is unsettling.
Looking up, I see Tori walking in.
“What are you guys doing up?” she asks as she pulls down a mug.
“Your little rugrat was hungry and snuck downstairs,” I tell her as I give Bailey a wink before I stand up. “I’m gonna go get ready.”
When I walk upstairs, Maddie is still asleep, and I can hear the shower running as I grab some clothes out of the dresser and closet and then go to one of the downstairs guest bathrooms to shower.
She still isn’t downstairs when I’m ready. I pass by the kitchen, which is loud as everyone is making breakfast and visiting. When I spot Maddie, I decide to go up and check on Candace.
The bathroom door is closed and the smell of her shower fills the room, intoxicating me, making this more agonizing. But I suck it up because I don’t want to make her uncomfortable with how strongly I’m feeling about all of this.
When I knock on the door, she says, “Come in.”
She stands there in a pair of jeans and one of her college sweatshirts, hair stacked on top of her head, applying her lipgloss. I slide up next to her, leaning back against the counter, and watch. Grab her. Touch her. Kiss her. I shake my scrambling thoughts as she tosses her things into her small bag, and avoids acknowledging me. But when she moves to walk past me, I grab her by the waist and pull her to me, asking, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Really,” she lies, shutting me out.
Looking at her, watching that tick of her brow, I ask, “You wanna get out of here for a while?”
She doesn’t miss a second when she nods her head. Relief. She doesn’t want to stay away from me.
I slide my hand down her wrist and hold her hand, but this time, I lace my fingers with hers, holding her differently—needing to—and head out.
It’s rainy this morning as I drive through the narrow, winding road in Ecola Park. I’ve always loved this area, dense with lush, tall trees and deep cliffs. I try to focus on the surroundings, but I can’t escape my nerves. This is all new to me. I’ve never done this before, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna say. All I know is that I want her.
I park the jeep and grab one of my raincoats from the back seat for her to put on.
“Here, wear this,” I tell her as she takes it from me, and starts slipping it on.
We get out, and I hold her hand again as I walk her down the old wooden stairs that lead down to Indian Beach. The wind is hitting hard as it mixes with the rain. It’s cold, but I love this type of weather. Walking along the packed, wet sand of the beach, I hold on to her as we step over the piles of smooth, black rocks to some logs of driftwood that sit back from the water. We sit down on one of the logs, and I watch Candace as she takes in the view. She has the hood popped up over her head. I like seeing her in my clothes, even if it’s an oversized raincoat.
I wrap my arm around her, and when I do, she speaks.
“This is amazing.”
“Yeah, I love it out here. I used to surf here a lot growing up.”
She looks out at the hard-hitting waves, her cheeks already pink from the chill. My heart is racing, and I know it won’t stop until I talk to her.
“Candace,” I say as I turn, kicking my leg over the log to face her straight on. “What’s bothering you? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I know something is.”
She looks away, back out at the water. Her hands fidget, and I know she’s deep in her head, but I need her here with me.
“Candace,” I urge, bringing her focus back.
She faces me, brows pinched together, worried. “I just don’t really know what we’re doing.”
“Tell me what you want.” Tell me that’s it me. That you want me. So I don’t have to keep pretending.
“I’m not good at this stuff, Ryan.”
Neither am I.
“Come here,” I say as I grab her leg and move her to face me.
Time to get honest.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the night of the concert,” I confess. “I don’t know where your head is at, but whenever I’m not with you, I want to be.”
I watch as she drops her eyes. Shy.
“Talk to me, babe.” Tell me you feel it too.
“I just . . .” she starts, trying to find her words and settling back on, “I don’t do this well.”
“Do what?”
“This . . .”
I can’t take her shyness, so I hold her head in my hands, angling her to look at me when I finally admit, “Whatever this is, I want it. I just need to know if you do.”
My tone is intent because I know what I want here. Her eyes don’t move from mine, and I wait for her response. For anything. I put it out there, and now my heart is racing with nerves, uncertain of her response. Then finally, she gives it to me, and I wanna fuckin’ cling to her when she nods her head yes.
Keeping my hands on her, I guide her to me and kiss her. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want her, and when she sli
des her arms under my coat and around my waist, my heart finally starts to settle. I have her.
Her lips are cold and wet with rain, and I squeeze her to me. I move slowly because the thought of rushing anything with her, to quicken the pace of her touch, would be stupid. So I take my time as I graze my tongue along her soft lips, and when she relaxes, allowing me to take more, I pass her lips and taste the warmth of her mouth.
I’m relieved that she’s giving me this, that she wants what I want, but I’m anxious because I’ve never done this before. Never have I had feelings like this for anyone. Not even close to thinking that I could.
She presses her fingers into me, tightening her hold, and I keep my hands on her jaw, marking her as mine like some pathetic puppy, but I do it anyway.
She moves with me, sliding her tongue along mine—gently—without any sign of urgency, and I love that about her. That she would want the time the same way I do.
When I feel her move her hands out from under my coat and wrap around my wrists, I pull back and ask, “Should we get out of here?”
“Let’s stay.”
“Come here,” I say as I slide her on top of my lap, and she slips her arm around my neck, steadying herself on me.
“Can I ask you something?” she says quietly.
“Anything.”
“I never asked before because I didn’t want to intrude, but . . . where’s your father?” she asks with a hint of trepidation.
I don’t talk to anyone about my dad. Never have. I hide it, bury it, and mask it with vices that make it easier to deal with. But I know she’s hiding something too. I wish I knew what it was, so I go ahead and break off a piece of me and give it to her. “He died about ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she says and drops her head away from me—abashed. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Candace, you can ask me anything,” I tell her as I lift her chin up. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t, okay?” I don’t know what else to say, but I do know I want her to start opening up to me.
“Yeah,” she breathes softly.
“My dad was an asshole,” I tell her, wanting to be honest with her. “He drank way too much and was never around, but when he was, he was a total dick. So, don’t feel bad for asking, because I don’t feel bad that he’s dead.” I know my words come out hard, but they come out in truth.
She scans my face for a moment. She knows there’s more behind my words, but I don’t elaborate because what I just gave her is more than I’ve given anyone. So I leave it.
I clutch her waist and hold on to her when she looks over my shoulder and asks, “Is there a trail up there?”
“Yeah, it’s a pretty decent path if you want to go up there.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” she suggests, and I eye her leopard rain boots, asking, “Those have enough traction?”
Laughing, she says, “We’ll see.”
Stealing another kiss from her, enjoying the freedom of being able to, I stand and smile down at her before scooping her up and over my shoulder. This chick weighs nothing, and she begins to laugh as I haul her up the stairs. The giggles and squeals coming out of her are beautiful, and she never complains. I adore this side of her.
After hiking in the rain for over an hour, I didn’t let the fact that we were rain-soaked stop me from taking Candace into Seaside to the Broadway Strip. We took our time, walking in and out of the shops and grabbing lunch.
We came home and had an early dinner before everyone said goodbye and headed back home. It’s just the two of us and my mom, so we’ve made no plans for the night. After Candace gets cleaned up, she makes herself comfortable on the couch downstairs, reading a book, while I take a quick shower.
I was surprised with how easygoing she was after our talk on the beach. We fell into the laidback feeling we have built up to in our friendship, but now there’s no more grey.
Toweling off, I throw on a pair of pajama pants and dry my hair. I hear my mom’s voice when I walk out of the room, and I start making my way down the stairs, spotting Candace and my mom sitting on the couch.
“No child should ever have to hear that,” I overhear my mom telling Candace and I ask, “Hear what?” curious as to what they’re chatting about.
As I walk across the room, I notice Candace’s splotchy face, and I know she’s been crying. She keeps from looking at me as she faces my mother, so I take a seat next to her on the couch and slip my arm around her when my mom answers me.
“Candace is telling me about what happened the other night.”
“Mom.” I’ve been avoiding asking Candace how she’s been feeling about the whole situation to keep from upsetting her.
“It’s fine,” Candace assures me, so I stay quiet and listen as they continue to talk.
I watch my mom take ahold of Candace’s hand when she asks, “Do you have any other family at all?”
“No. It’s only ever been the three of us since my father’s parents passed away.”
“What about your mother’s family?”
“I’ve never met them,” Candace tells her. “I have never known them to speak. I’m not even sure they know about me.” Her voice trembles as she says this, and I run my hand up her back, wondering why she would have a side of her family that she’s being kept away from. But before I can question it too much, my mother leans in and takes Candace in her arms, hugging her. We both have her in our hold when she begins weeping.
I feel horrible, but glad that she’s here with me and that she would open up to my mother, who’s nearly a stranger to her. I think of how long it took Candace to show me even a hint of this side of herself, but I know my mom has a way about her that can make anyone want to open up. She’s always been that person for me, so seeing her provide Candace a little of that when I know she’s probably never gotten it from her own parents is a good thing.
My mom pulls back, telling Candace exactly what I’m feeling as she wipes the tears from Candace’s cheeks.
“I’m glad you’re here with us.” Candace only nods when my mom says, “I’ll let the two of you be,” before walking out of the room.
I pull Candace to me, resting her back onto my chest as I lean against the armrest. She continues to let out soft whimpers.
“Don’t cry, babe,” I say quietly.
“I’m tired,” she tells me. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
So I don’t say anything else. Taking her hand, I lead her upstairs so that she can lie down. It’s late, and I’m sure she’s exhausted from our busy day.
I let go of her hand when we hit the doorway and watch as she walks into the bathroom. I wait, listening to the faucet run, and when she returns, she doesn’t say anything as she looks at me and gets into my bed.
Her back is facing me, and I’m not sure what she wants me to do. I know what I want to do, so I swallow the questioning thoughts and decide to not leave her in here alone. I walk over to the edge of the bed, pull back the covers, and slide in behind her. She’s curled into a ball, so I wrap myself around her, tucking her into me, when she wedges her hand underneath mine for me to hold. This small move is all I need to assure me that she wants me with her tonight, so I stay.
Waking up with Candace is something that I can get used to, and I want to. So much so, that when I dropped her off at her house after we drove back to Seattle today, I asked her to stay at my loft tonight. She didn’t want to at first, hell, even after trying to talk to her about why she’s so apprehensive about it, I still don’t think she wants to, but she wound up agreeing anyway.
I know that Jase told me that she was inexperienced, but I’m not quite sure how inexperienced he meant. After seeing how shy she was when I told her I wanted her here tonight, I’m pretty sure this girl is more innocent than I thought. But I want her here, and I want her in my bed. I’ve never wanted anyone in my bed. I avoid it. Always have. Always keeping everyone I’ve ever brought here downstairs. But her . . . I want it with her.
Getting
a drink of water, I see headlights shine through the windows as her car pulls into my drive. She had to work the closing shift tonight, so it’s a little past midnight as I watch her get out of her car. I head over to the door and wait for her to knock, but when I hear nothing, I wonder if she’s having second thoughts. Hell, I’m surprised she came in the first place with how hesitant she was earlier. I startle her when I open the door.
“What are you doing out here?” I question with a tilt of my head, knowing all too well what she was doing—worrying.
“Umm, nothing. I was just about to knock.” A clear lie, but I find myself liking it.
I take her bag as she walks in, setting it at the foot of the stairs. When I turn, I see her fidgeting her hands as she stands awkwardly in my living room. Needing her to relax and not feel this way when she’s with me, I go over and take her in my arms. She accepts the touch willingly and clasps her hands behind my back, leaning her forehead against my chest. When she lets go of a deep breath, I give her head a kiss, asking, “Better?”
Her hum is soft when she says, “Mmm hmm.”
“Good. I’m wiped. What about you?”
“Yeah,” she breathes.
I take her hand, leading her upstairs. Walking her into my room, I aim her past the large closet, saying, “The bathroom is right over there.”
She looks up at me, smiling, before taking her bag out of my hand and closing the bathroom door behind her.
I change clothes while I hear her taking a shower, and just knowing that she’s naked in there—in my shower—starts a swarm of thoughts I know I need to get under control before I get her in my bed. Heading back downstairs to grab a bottle of water for her, I hang out in my kitchen, giving myself a few minutes before I go back up.
