Love on the Run

by Gemini Jensen

  Even Dad, despite his current hermit-like tendencies, comes down from his room to watch us all exchange gifts. Valley has about as many under the tree as everyone else. We might have just reconciled our differences last night, and I may have avoided her for the past month or so, but I made damn sure she had plenty to open once I realized she’d be waking up here this morning. Lyra got her multiple presents on her own, bringing her in like the sister she’s never had. Girls like to shop anyway, so she used it as the perfect excuse to go into the city, and of course, I acquiesced.

  So, here I am, handing out magnificently wrapped packages while the girls wait cross-legged on the floor.

  “Lyra. Sloane. Sloane. Lyra. Dad. Lyra. Sloane,” I tick off, as I hand out each. “Me. Me. Me, again?” I say in surprise, causing the girls to burst into giggles.

  “That one’s from me,” Valley chirps. I raise my eyebrows at her. I’m thoroughly charmed and so curious, I stop what I’m doing, and tear into it immediately, lifting out tissue paper and tossing it to the side. A brand new leather-bound journal, much like the one I already own, is revealed beneath all the paper.

  “It’s a journal,” she asserts, stating the obvious. “You know, just in case the one you have is nearly full.” And then she blushes, and looks away. Huh? That’s uncanny, because mine is nearly full now.

  “It’s perfect. Thanks,” I say, as I flip through it. I stop midway through, where I find a photo of her, along with a poem she’s written on the page. It’s meant to be private. It’s meant for my eyes only. I slam it shut before my sister catches on that there’s more than just blank pages inside, and gets into her normal sleuthing/nosey mode. Valley smirks at me, understanding the reason behind my reaction.

  “Don’t forget Nana Rose should be here in an hour or so. We better start on the dinner,” Lyra reminds us, once all the gifts have been opened.

  It’s a joint effort, picking up the ankle high coating of wrapping paper in the den’s floor. Our mother didn’t believe in putting any gifts in a bag. She was a firm believer that every gift should be wrapped in paper, and that the act of ripping open the paper was nearly as important as what was held within. It’s a tradition our family has strived to keep up since she passed.

  When Lyra hops up to head to kitchen, and Dad starts spouting some nonsense about not wanting to be around his devil of a mother, I pull Valley into the dimmed hallway for a moment alone.

  I take her hand, yanking it forward to place it on my chest as I lean in for a quick kiss, but only because Lyra’s currently banging pots and pans around in the kitchen, clueing me in on her exact location.

  “I loved my gift.” I nuzzle her nose, speaking softly against her delicate lips. “Although, I didn’t read my poem yet. I thought it was something that would be best to do in the privacy of my room.”

  Her lips move over my jaw, until she reaches my ear, whispering, “Mmm, that’s probably a good assessment.” She pulls the lobe between her teeth, and excitement tingles through me.

  “Gray! Sloane! I’d appreciate some help if you guys, like, wanna eat sometime today!” Lyra yells from the kitchen. Valley and I break apart like two kids caught sucking face in the school hallway, then quietly laugh.

  “I’ll go first, you wait a minute and follow behind,” she smiles conspiratorially. I swat at her ass as she turns away from me, and just stand there smiling like a fool for much longer than any sane person should.

  Usually Lyra and I trade off on cooking duties, but on this day, we all pitch in with making the food. Valley and I can’t help but give each other heated glances behind Lyra’s back, and I love the way she blushes under my attentiveness.

  “Knock, Knock!” A familiar voice calls from the front of the house, just as I pull the Prime Rib from the oven.

  “And, the old spitfire is here,” I mutter to my sister.

  “Gray!” Lyra play-acts at reprimanding me, but can’t keep a straight face. “In here, Nana Rose!” we both yell out in unison. After she takes her time hugging us, and then pinches our cheeks, despite the fact I’m 24 damn years old, we all settle in for our Christmas Dinner.

  Nana Rose takes to Valley right away, instantly liking her, which I must admit I was worried about. Nana’s a hard one to win over. Our time is filled with every day talk, and the girls go off into a playful banter focusing on the woes of high school, mostly my sister’s doing. Nana and I are forced to listen to all the goings on of Central Valley, and a rehashing of all the current and upcoming events.

  “Sloane here has recently started dating the most popular guy in school, Mile Huntley. He’s sooooo dreamy,” Lyra purrs aloud.

  “We’re just hanging out, double dating and such. More like casual friends who don’t have anyone else to go do things with,” Valley interjects, making a point to make eye contact with me.

  “That’s all semantics. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have ALREADY asked you to prom! Helloooo?! This is a big deal. Kelly Mitchell is going to flip when she finds out. Prepare yourself,” Lyra remarks in an overly dramatic manner.

  “I haven’t even said yes,” Valley replies, sounding rather put out.

  “But you will. Gray, you’re going to have to take us out of town to shop, like, within the month. We need plenty of time to figure out which gowns suit us perfectly. We only get ONE senior prom,” my sister says, as she directs her eyes at me.

  Just what I wanted to do, go watch my sister play dress-up.

  I might enjoy watching Valley play dress-up, but that’s shot to hell now that she’ll be going to prom with another man. And even if my sister did know about us, I’m too damn old to even fill out one of those forms allowing someone from outside of school to come to the event. I sigh out loud as I think of all this, causing Nana Rose to place her hand over mine and pat it in the comforting manner that older ladies like to do.

  “There, there. Lyra let’s hold off on all the girl talk. Your brother is trying to enjoy his dinner. He is turning out to be such a manly man after all. We don’t want him to blow a gasket, now, do we?” she teases, as she leans in to kiss me on the cheek.

  A few minutes later everyone is getting up to take their plates to the kitchen sink, when Nana Rose pipes up again.

  “Girls, why don’t y’all run along upstairs. Gray and I will clean up the dinner. Y’all just enjoy your gifts. Lyra, I sat the ones I brought along beside the tree. I even brought one for your friend. Your father informed me a few weeks ago that she would be here. Go on now,” she orders in the authoritative tone she’s always possessed.

  As soon as they’re out of the room, Nana turns to me, concern clearly written all over her face.

  “How is you father. Has he even came out of his room today?” she asks.

  “Yeah, he was with us this morning, but he hightailed it back upstairs when Lyra reminded us you would be arriving soon. Called you a devil per usual,” I tell her like it is, knowing it won’t hurt her feelings. They’ve always had a strange relationship, for as long as I can remember.

  “At least he still possesses his spirited, argumentative ways. Just like his father, I swear. Don’t let his pish-posh fool you, Gray. He’s been depressed for some time lately, and rightly so. We need to do everything in our power to make sure he keeps interacting with us all. His therapy is making progress?” she asks.

  “You know the answer to that. You call and talk to his therapist multiple times a week,” I remind her.

  “Yes, but I wanted your take on the situation,” she scolds.

  “He gives the impression of progressing, just slowly,” I remark. She nods, and puts the last glass into the dishwasher.

  “And how long have you had this thing going on with Lyra’s friend. Does Lyra know?”

  Her words cause me to immediately stiffen, but I attempt to correct myself as soon as I catch my body’s reaction.

  “Nan, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You forget to take your crazy pills today?” I ask, attempting to chide her with the
phrase my father always spouts when he wants to derail their conversation. Between the two of them, it works. For me, not so much this time.

  Her eyes narrow into slits.

  “Boy, don’t try that with me. I’m no old fool. You were both making eyes at each other clear across the table. I thought I was imagining it for a moment, up until Lyra started talking about that other boy, and Sloane started making excuses all the while trying to catch your eye while she was doing it,” Nana Rose informs me.

  God. Nothing ever gets past her. EVER.

  “Shoulda known. Not really seeing each other, but yeah, we care about each other. We’re…” I glance over to the spot on the counter that we claimed as ours last night, wondering if I should be talking about things of this nature with my grandmother, “attracted to each other. But I’m too old for her! Lyra would flip if she found out, too. Plus, the Knightley reputation… it’s going to be a long road trying to bring our name back in good standing.”

  For some reason that I just don’t get, Nana Rose throws her head back and laughs as if I’d just said the most absurd thing ever.

  “Gray, for you to be such a smart young man, you’re still just… a man. Men have the stupidest gumptions from time to time. Your Mama and Daddy had a six-year age difference. Your Grandpa and I were 12 years apart. Who cares about such things. And the Knightley reputation? You’re really going to let that pack of old women control your every move?” she scoffs. “What they think is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. You take some time to chew that over. I’m going to check on my dear, asshole of a son,” she chides, patting my arm and then walking away.

  I’m left alone in the kitchen, wondering if my way of thinking as of late, really has been absurd.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Valley

  The past few weeks have been filled with more time than ever spent at the home of the Knightley’s, and a lot of sneaking around on mine and Gray’s part. I’ve become the Queen of the Poker Face, and an Ace at telling lies. It’s not something I’d brag about though. Looking my Mother in the eye, and telling her I’m going over to Lyra’s to hang out and help her study for her test, when I’m really meeting up with Gray, so some days I despise myself. While I haven’t truly lied outright to Lyra, there is such a thing as lies of omission. Waiting for her to go into a deep sleep, and then sneaking out of her bedroom and down the hall into her brother’s instead.

  I’m a completely messed up person, because while I despise myself for continuously spinning this web of deceit, there’s a part of me that enjoys it as much as I despise it. It’s difficult to comprehend, but I’m addicted to the rush of sneaking around, the adrenaline coursing through my veins when Gray and I partake in a quickie during one of our stolen moments, knowing that at any time and any second we could get caught. Someone could walk in, and blow the whole covert operation to smithereens.

  We already have off the charts sexual chemistry, an amazing connection. Even with Gray being my only sex partner, there’s no misconceptions. And the top-secret, hush-hush, clandestine aspect of the whole affair just adds to the intensity. Gray is my addiction, and I keep feeding that addiction at every turn and every available opportunity, fully aware that this is the exact path everyone else in the world has went down when they mistook a good friendship paired with amazing sex, as being love. I just keep barreling head first down said path like the smut-induced fool I now am.

  This weekend, I’ve lied again. If you were to ask my Mom, she’d tell you I’m spending the weekend with Lyra. Going shopping out of town one night, and then going to the movies on a double-date (if we’re getting down to the nitty-gritty details). Me and Miles together, and Lyra with this new guy she likes.

  If you asked Lyra what her best friend’s weekend plans are, she’d tell you I’m spending the weekend with my mom. Some special Mother/Daughter one-on-one time together.

  The truth: Gray and I are going to stay at his cabin. A stay-cation of sorts while his sister goes out of town to spend time with their Nana Rose. Here’s the real kicker: Nana Rose helped scheme with us and set it up. She’s the one who demanded that Lyra come stay a few days with her.

  That’s how I ended up in the Jeep with Gray, packed up with food, and supplies, ready for an adventure, despite the fact that I’ve never went camping before. I don’t care if we aren’t sleeping in a tent, which he was all for until I decided to get “punny” and pitched a fit instead. Lucky for me, he’s decided to break me into the outdoorsy scene slowly. My younger self would have loved the idea of sleeping in a tent, or even outside on the ground amongst the stars. My older self, however, cringes at the idea of being around an insanely hot guy without plumbing and washing capabilities.

  Um, Hell no.

  About 15 minutes after we leave town, we’re already pulling down a gravel road, and Gray informs me that he used to stay here all the time until his Dad got hurt and required his help keeping up with things at home. It’s really the perfect distance away for some space, but still being able to be around one’s family when you want.

  After about another five or so minutes of driving down the gravel road, I’m beginning to think we’re being lead to a dead end, when the structure appears right when I’ve lost all hope. I immediately can’t look at anything else. It’s small, but not too small. Quaint, but in that charming, fairytale kind of way. There’s a rock chimney with ivy growing up the side, and a wraparound porch sporting a hammock. Just off the porch and down a short path a ways, sits a fire pit. Wood is stacked beside a tiny little shed with a covering to keep it in the dry. The sky is a pale blue with only a light smattering of clouds. The sun streaming down, warms the area to the perfect temperature. Although it’s still chilly at night, days like today, are my favorite.

  I look over at Gray, overly excited. “Soooo glad we aren’t staying outside. This looks way better,” I express animatedly. He laughs, and then hops out of the Jeep to start grabbing our bags and supplies. I attempt to grab a few of the bags, but he places his hand on the straps and removes it from my grasp.

  “You go inside and look around. You’re not carrying anything,” he orders me. I stick out my tongue, childish I know, and grab a different set of bags since his hands are now full and he can’t stop me.

  “V,” he exasperatedly utters the nickname he’s taken to calling me when we’re by ourselves. “You don’t listen to a damn thing, do you?”

  “The only time you get to boss me, is in bed,” I answer smugly, walking past him and into the cabin. Gray doesn’t follow, but chooses to sit the bags he’s carrying down on the porch step, and then doubles back to get the rest before I’m given the chance.

  Once we’ve unpacked all the clothes and supplies, and put away the food, I decide to put the hammock to good use. Grabbing my current read, I walk outside and settle onto the comfy material. The back and forth swaying nearly lulls me to sleep, but the book I’m reading has just gotten to the good part, so it’s easy to fight the incoming wave of drowsiness.

  My reading material is one of Lyra’s books. She’s finally talked me into trying out one of her dirty romances, and, although I’m not inclined to believe in love and all that, I’ve ended up thoroughly enjoying this one. The heroine in the story is a sharp-witted girl, who meets a guy who’s apparently used to being catered to. He wants her to bend to his will. Our heroine is attracted to him, fascinated by him, but so far, she’s holding her own, staying true to herself.

  “That a good book?” Gray asks, making me jump and slam it shut, turning the cover face down so that the provocative images gracing the front are hidden from his scrutiny.

  “Uh, yeah. Your sister loaned it to me,” I reply. He reaches out and picks it up, studying the image on front for a few moments, then turning it over to read the blurb on the back, before looking at me with a smirk.

  “I’ll just bet it’s good,” he teases, and then throws in, “let me know if you read anything you want to try out,” as he gently tosses it back
beside me. “But you’re not going to read all day. Get up, Buttercup. We’re going fishing down at the river.” He holds up two poles and a tackle box. “I need your help putting the nightcrawlers on the hook, and then if you want, you can cast in a few times too. And if you don’t want to, too bad, you’re going to try it anyway.”

  “Oh, I am? We’ll see about that,” I reply with attitude, easing out of the hammock and to my feet. I grab one of the poles out of his hand, determined to show him that I’m plenty capable of doing whatever I set my mind to, despite it being a contradiction to my words. I’ll prove that I don’t need his pushy, Alpha behavior to make me step out of my shell. “Well,” I look over at him expectantly as I wave my hand out in front of me, “show me the way.”

  He throws his head back in a roaring laugh.

  “You’re cute, you know that?”

  I narrow my eyes, and huff, hating when he refers to me as cute, mostly because to me, it’s taking a jab at my younger age.

  We reach the calmly flowing water, where there are already two plastic chairs positioned on the riverbank. Sluggish and languid, the aftereffects of the hammock still in my system, the quiet roar of the river only adds to that sedated sensation. I plop down in the chair, immediately relaxing even further.

  “This is type of scenery that gets the creative words flowing,” I sigh, taking in the natural beauty that surrounds us. “Speaking of poetry, did you ever read the poem I placed in your journal? There’s two of them, both inspired by you. You never said anything,” I hint, a sense of insecurity mounting over the whole thing. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Nope,” he replies. My smile instantly falls, causing him to frown. “Not because I don’t want to, V, believe me, I do. I’ve opened it so many times, and then had to stop myself. I’m just waiting for the right moment. The perfect time for it to be sentimental and the most meaningful,” he explains, but I don’t understand. He catches my confused expression.