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“This is what I really wanted to show you,” Keanen admits. He kneels on a patch of grass, and tugs me down beside him. It’s slightly damp from dew, but at least this dress is black, I figure, so stains won’t show.
Then I forget all about any such concerns, as he tugs me onto his lap, his arms wrapped around me from behind, warm and steady, as we both face the lake. He rests his chin on my shoulder.
“I used to come here as a kid, whenever the lake froze over, to skate. My mother taught me.”
“That’s nice.” I turn to smile over my shoulder. But his gaze remains far away. Distant. Something hits me, then. I’ve never heard anyone mention his mother. They talk about his father all the time, but…
“She died,” Keanen says, as if reading my mind. “When Bette and I were little.”
“Keanen. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs against my shoulder. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember a lot about her now. But I remember skating. I remember holding her hand, here.”
I reach down to catch his hand and squeeze it tightly. “Thank you for bringing me here. For showing me your world.”
“I want you to be a part of it. Just like I want to be a part of yours.”
I tilt my head to look over my shoulder at him. “Think we can make that work, you and me?”
He bends forward. Kisses the corner of my mouth. Then my jawline. The spot just below my ear. “I think if anyone can,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin, “it would be us.” Then he turns me in his arms, pulls me down to kiss me in earnest this time, and I forget about the rest of my worries.
9
The next couple of weeks pass in a steady rhythm. I can’t say it’s all pleasant—only Yvette will talk to me still, and she doesn’t invite me to group hangouts or any get-togethers that would involve other girls. Sara and Leah have become Bette’s new besties somehow, and I’m the odd one left out in the cold.
Plus, it’s a strain to keep up with all the work I’ve picked up at the bar and my homework.
But Keanen makes it all worthwhile. Waking up in his dorm room, more often than not, his arms wrapped around me and our bodies naked, pressed together beneath his sheets, which are softer than sheets have any right to feel… Well, I can’t say I regret those mornings.
Or the even better mornings, where he’s awake before me, and wakes me by kissing, licking and sucking his way slowly all over every inch of my body, until I’m practically wild with desire, dragging him on top of me, hungry for his cock, for the stuffed full sensation I get when he’s inside me.
Still, when he invites me to one of his football games one Friday night, as we’re lying in bed still slick with sweat the night before, I hesitate.
“I should pick up the shift at the bar,” I tell him. “Friday is a good night for tips.”
“I specifically heard Henry say he could handle it this week, last time I visited you at work,” he says. “Besides, you’ve yet to see me play. Don’t you want to know how your man handles himself on the field?”
I sigh and nestle myself deeper into his arms. “Of course I do, Keanen. But my life… it’s not like yours. I need to think about keeping my costs down and my income up.”
He tightens his arms around me. For a moment he’s quiet, and I wonder if he’s dozed off. It is, after all, nearly 3 in the morning. I was at the bar late tonight, too, and afterward, well… Keanen can be just as good as my job at keeping me up all night.
But then he shifts beside me in bed, rolling over to face me, until we’re nose-to-nose in the dark, illuminated by the glow of the half moon through his curtains. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
“Oh really?” I prop myself up on one elbow. “Thinking about what? How our worlds are so completely different? I warned you about that at the start, Keanen, and you said—”
He presses a fingertip to my mouth. “Not that.” His eyes search mine. “I’ve been thinking about all the work you do. You shouldn’t have to.”
I roll my eyes. “Alas, here in the real world, not everyone is born with a trust fund, so—”
“Let me take care of your bills,” he says.
I stop dead, frozen with shock. My eyes go wide. No one has ever offered anything like that before. But… “No, no way.” I can’t accept that kind of charity. “This is my life to deal with, not yours.”
“What, so I can’t help you bear it? Whatever you carry, Missy, I’ll help you with.”
