avery
ONE YEAR AGO
the 1 – Taylor Swift
“Kane, stop,” I gasp as I jump off the couch, trying to flee. Big arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me back into a wide chest. The feeling of weightlessness hits me as I’m lifted off the ground, my eyes closing as I try to keep the tears of laughter at bay. He continues his invasion on my sides with one hand, holding me in place with the other.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you’re busy. But you looked too serious, pretty girl. I don’t like when those little lines appear,” he replies, turning me in his arms. He holds me flush against him, smoothing out the wrinkles between my brows with his thumb. His beautiful smile is stretched across his face while he stares at me with those warm, honey-brown eyes.
“You weren’t even listening to the song I was playing, and that’s when I know I’ve lost you. Talk to me,” Kane pleads with me, switching our positions so I’m situated on his lap when he lowers us onto the couch. I straddle him,my body humming from the feel of his strong thighs under me.
Sitting on top of Kane is one of my favorite places. Usually, he towers over me, dwarfing me with his six-four frame, but in this position, we are finally eye to eye, allowing me to study his features. His striking brown eyes are trained on me, making me feel as if a meteor could hit, and all he’d care about is what I have to say. The look of complete adoration on his face stuns me almost speechless. Over three years together and it still feels as if we’re those two teenagers, lost in each other, blind to the world around us.
Kane has the most beautiful face—I’ve always thought that. When he transferred into our senior year English class, I was struck dumb the second he turned that smirk on me. His hair was dark chocolate brown, almost black, his skin deeply tanned skin. He had strong Italian features—thick, dark eyebrows, a straight nose that seemed too perfect for his face and pink full lips that only quirked up more the longer I stared at him. He was sin personified, and I didn’t stand a chance.
He still takes my breath away today, looking just as sinful as he did then, only with more prominent cheekbones and a jawline that could grace magazines, if only Kane cared enough. His soft stubble seems to grow the second he shaves it smooth. I love the feel of that short hair trailing along my body, sending goosebumps all over my skin in its wake.
I blow out a breath as I run my fingers through his silky, slightly curly hair, trying not to get distracted by his shirtless chest, littered with tattoos—most of which I’ve watched get inked on him over the years.
“I’m just worried. We graduate in a few months. I’m still waiting to figure out what I want to do next. Collegefelt easy, as if we had so much time. But the real world starts soon, and what if I can’t do it? I want to keep working at the animal rescue but what if there’s something more out there I could be doing?” I say, refusing to make eye contact with him, twisting my too-thick brown hair—that escaped my bun long ago—in my hands.
He grabs my chin and forces my face up until his lips are a breath away from mine. His fingers are firm under my chin, making me stop fidgeting and place my hands gently on the back of his neck.
Graduating college together has been the dream over these past four years together, as high school sweethearts the odds have always been stacked against us—by parents and peers alike. Now that the future is on our horizon, Kane is months away from a Bachelors in Psychology to work at a local high school and me with my degree in business, hoping to apply all my gained knowledge to further our rescue’s reach. On top of all of that, Kane still works part-time at a local bar that can take up most of his nights during the week.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few months, but I know with certainty that whatever you do, you will succeed. And I cannot wait to be in the wings watching you shine,” he says assuredly, placing a soft kiss on my lips.
Heat sears through my body when he kisses me, and suddenly there’s not a single worry in my brain. All I can think about is getting his sweatpants off.
I reach down, but he stops me and pulls back. I look up, finding his eyes dark with unmistakable lust and lips swollen.
“All I want to do is let you continue whatever slow torture you had in mind,” he starts, and a smirk lines myface. “But I know how much you need to finish that paper, and I won’t be the reason you fail the class this close to graduation.” He plants one more gentle kiss against my lips.
I pout and he starts chuckling, running his thick fingers through my hair at my back—the strands finally escaping my bun completely—before smoothing it down my sides to my hips.
“Don’t look at me like that, pretty girl. Or we will end up in my bedroom for the night, paper be damned.”
I laugh as I pull back and start getting up.
“Okay, well if you’re not going to feed me that way, then you better feed my stomach,” I say, picking up my discarded textbook and paper that were abandoned when Kane started tickling me. I sit back down beside him as he picks up his Martin guitar and starts strumming, making me giggle and abandon my work once again to watch him. He plays the tune of “Truly Madly Deeply,” knowing it will get a reaction out of me. It was the last song we danced to at our senior prom. I remember the world fading away as Kane and I swayed to the music, lost in each other. In that moment, I felt like I never wanted to be found.
I’ve always loved the sight of him with a guitar, fingers expertly working the strings, his soft but powerful tone. His voice is dark and gravely, hypnotizing me completely. My eyes wander over him with the guitar on his lap, up to his shirtless chest, over to the numerous tattoos scattered on his lean but impressive torso and arms. His biceps are thick from hours spent at the gym with Marcus, and I love how his forearms flex absently as he strums chords, switching to another one of my favorite songs.
I’m mesmerized by how beautiful he is, and watching his fingers strum the all-too-familiar tune sends shiversdown my body, reminding me just how dexterous those fingers are.
He looks up at me with that soft look in his eyes he reserves only for me, and I swoon before he even utters the first words of the song. I lose myself in the soft lyrics of “Iris,” remembering how this was one of the first songs Kane ever played for me, after he admitted he watched me play it on my phone countless times walking to and from class while pretending I didn’t notice him behind me all those years ago. He said he instantly went home and started to memorize the chords so that when he needed to impress me, he had the perfect plan.
I could get lost in the sound of his voice. His deep, smoky tone has the ability to stop crowds, but Kane has never wanted to do anything with it. He always said he was gifted with that talent just for me. What a sap I was at seventeen, thinking it was the most romantic thing someone could ever say to me.
Now, the memory pulls an eye roll and a smile out of me, knowing he had this talent way before he met me. Kane has always loved music, and it was something we bonded over immediately when we met. We would spend hours together in his room, scrolling through songs to compare.
Every morning, I woke up to a good morning text and a song, either one to set the mood for the day or one that made him think of me.
He finishes the song and looks up at me. I can see everything in Kane’s eyes—our future filled with marriage, babies and the laughter I know will follow us for years shines back at me, a mirror of what I’m sure he sees in mine.
Kane gets up and leans the guitar against the beige sofa that I convinced him to upgrade to—his old cracking leather couch had seen better days. He stretches as he turns to me,the muscles in his arms flexing and drawing my eyes to them, then down his body to his striking V-lines, like an arrow pointing to what I want most right now.
“Come on, pretty girl. Let me feed you before you jump me,” Kane says as he grabs my hand and pulls me up. I wrap my arms around him and just bask in the feel of his warmth. I’m not sure how long we stand like that—moments seem to fly by with him. Since we don’t have many nights like this anymore, it makes these moments even more special. No work or school distracting us, no future pressing in on us. Just these stolen moments away from the world in our little bubble I could live in forever.
