But now, after this week, after five years of denying him, there’s a pleasant ache in my chest too, some sort of awe at being this close to a person. To him.
Everett kisses me as we rock together, his mouth soft against mine. I moan into his mouth when he shifts his hips just so, hitting a spot deep inside me, letting him capture and keep the sound. Eventually, our pace starts to quicken, Everett hiking my thigh up against his hip. I bite his shoulder, the same place he did mine, to muffle the sound when I cry out. His head fits into the curve of my neck again, but he turns it this time, kisses my neck so gently it makes that place in my chest balloon, swell until I’m afraid I might burst. The combination of sweat on skin and fingers digging in with a kiss so soft it’s barely there is enough to send me over the edge, but I wait until I can tell he’s there too, until I can pull him over with me.
I say his name, as barely there as his kiss on my neck, but his lips find mine and I know he heard it.
twenty-four
Fourth Summer
Laurel’s words echoed in my head all day. Through the drive back to the house, while I sat in the passenger seat of Everett’s car and stared out the window, grateful that the wind whipping in was too loud to hear much of anything. Through stirring orzo on the stove and turning on the ancient grill out back, waving off any help from him. Was I really someone who didn’t want to find their person? Was I so afraid of disappointment that I wasn’t even trying?
The rest of the week felt different, like we were all out of step, moods sour and some of the fun sucked out of everything. Laurel blamed it on Gabe not being there.
I scrambled to try to make it better. I suggested we go into town, get drinks at the cool new place Laurel had wanted to try when we’d driven by it earlier in the week, but there was a line out the door, and when we ended up at our usual dive bar she sat and twirled the base of her beer glass around in its circle of condensation, looking bored. I suggested pizza and movies back at the cottage, but when we got there, the only movie we could find on TV was the second half ofGhost Riderand they’d given us the wrong pizza.
Laurel went back to the room we were still sharing and flopped onto the bed with her phone.
I caught Everett watching me eye the gap in the door. He sat in an armchair across from my spot on the couch, and I straightened, trying to look bored.
“She’s okay,” he said softly. Even if he’d shouted it, I’m not sure Laurel would have heard. “She’s probably just sad about the breakup.”
I nodded, glancing quickly in the direction of the room again.
The truth was, it wasn’t just this week. Laurel and I had been talking less all year. I’d written it off at first; we were both so busy, it’s not like I was responding to every one of her texts either, and a few unanswered voicemails didn’t mean that much. But after a few months I could feel it, some empty space in my life that she used to occupy. When we did talk it was brief, about surface level things, and I told myself that was just life. Highs and lows. But I missed her. It was why this week felt so important. It had gone from something to look forward to, to the only surefire way to maintain our connection. Which struck me as odd, because I’d never felt that way about this trip and Everett.
“Come on,” he said, dragging me out of my head and back to him. I turned to face him, some sense of comfort washing over me that I quickly tamped down, angry at myself for even going there. He had a girlfriend. I couldn’t feel things like that with him this week. Yet another reason things were different.
Everett nodded toward the back door, the dark beach beyond. It had been a gray, muggy day, but the sun had finally broken through in the evening, leaving the moon and stars bright. “Let’s sit outside for a while.”
The night air was warm, the edge of hotter days to come hanging in it. We sat in the sand just a few feet outside the glowing sphere of the light coming from the back of the cottage, close enough for us to see inside but too far for Laurel and Davi to see. And suddenly it was just us, somehow, like we were sitting under one of those rainbow parachutes from gym in elementary school. The air would rush out eventually, but here was some vestige of our two days together, no need to pretend anymore. I felt my shoulders relax, my racing thoughts about what was going on with Laurel momentarily quieting.
“Hey,” I said to Everett’s profile.
He smiled, turning to face me. “Hey.”
“Long time, no see,” I said, nudging my elbow against his. He laughed, eyes crinkling, and I felt it in my chest. “How you been?”
“I’ve been good,” Everett said, glancing away as he said it. A muscle flickered in his jaw.
“I’m convinced,” I said, still watching him, still holding on to this bubble. The warm breeze played at his hair, and I couldn’t be sure why I wanted to lean in a little closer to him. If it was because this felt like it was a solution to the gaps in my life left by all of us drifting further and further apart. If it was because I’d missed him too.
Everett didn’t respond for a minute, eyes scanning the black horizon. He’d had a good year, as far as I could tell. Professional and romantic success. At that thought, a tiny bit of air seeped out from under the sides of our parachute.
I looked away from him, swallowed. “Seems like you have a pretty cool girlfriend.”
“Maud is great,” Everett said, for roughly the twelfth time that week. It was like a mantra, a response when Laurel asked about her, when she came up in idle conversation, as if he wastrying to prove something. If he said his girlfriend was great enough times, maybe we would all really believe it. The trouble was, none of us had any reason to believe otherwise. But then, he continued. Changed things. “My dad loves her.”
I glanced over at him, lips parted in surprise. “You introduced her to your dad?”
“Not exactly,” Everett said, something souring in his expression. “They met at an event a couple months back. Apparently, he approached her and said,I believe you’re dating my son.”
“Worse opening lines to have, I guess,” I said.
“Yeah,” Everett said. He looked down at the sand between his legs. “Complicates things a little when his follow-up wasGuess that means I have to wait my turn.”
“Okay, fuck your dad,” I said, without thinking. “Sorry.” But I glanced over at Everett to see him laughing softly.
“No, my thoughts exactly,” he said.
