Page 40 of Jacob Michaels Is Not Jacob Michaels

“Maybe you can give me one of your amazing kisses?” He said, glancing around, as though he thought we might not be alone.

“You’re the football star,” I said as I lifted my legs to place my feet on the bleacher row below me. “Show me your skills. Come get it. Make a play.”

Lucas grinned wickedly then slowly stalked up the stairs, his eyes never leaving mine. When he got to my row, he stepped over my leg, then brought his other leg over it as well, positioning himself between my legs. He looked down at me as his hand came up to cup the side of my face as I looked up at him. I wanted him to kiss me so badly.

“You’re…beautiful.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that a compliment for a guy?”

“I wasn’t talking about your looks.”

That made me swallow back any retort.

“Do you want me to kiss you again?”

“Yes.” I exhaled.

“Do you love me?” He asked.

“Yes.” I breathed the word. “I love you.”

Lucas sighed.

“I love you, too.”

Then he leaned down…

The concrete behind me felt like a hammer against my tailbone and was icy cold when I hit the ground. My legs were still up on the bleacher row I had been seated upon before the memory flashback. My vision blurred, hazy, streaks of color, as I flailed, trying to get my bearings.

“Rob!” Lucas gasped from somewhere lower in the stands.

Suddenly, he was beside me, his hands sliding under my arms, trying to lift me off of the icy concrete. I flailed again, unsure of what was going on, unsure, really, of where I was. My vision continued to blur in and out as I felt him pulling at me, trying to gently fight my flailing and get me off of the ground. Through the blurriness in my eyes, I saw Lucas, though one second he looked like he was wearing a letterman jacket and then the next he looked like he was in his Carhartt. I shut my eyes tightly, willing away whatever it was that was blurring my vision.

When I opened my eyes again, all I could see was Lucas trying to get ahold of me in an attempt to pull me off of the ground. The wind was whistling under the bleachers again, cutting into the exposed flesh of my face and hands as I finally stopped fighting against Lucas. Then he was pulling me up until I was seated upright on the bleachers again and he was kneeling to look into my eyes, worry etched all over his face. I stared back into his eyes, barely able to breathe as he reached up to turn my head as if examining me to see if I was bleeding from hitting my head or had otherwise hurt myself.

“Rob.” He breathed out heavily. “Shit. You scared the hell out of me. Are you okay, babe?”

I just stared back, my eyes wide, trying to process what had just happened. Had it been a real memory? Could I remember it?

Lucas. Letterman jacket. Banter. He was standing in front of me between my legs. I told him that I loved him. He said he loved me. We kissed.

The memory hadn’t fluttered away. Mentally, I imagined wrapping an iron fist around the memory. It had been alarming, but it was also one of the most precious I currently held within my brain. There was no way I was going to let it go. I had told Lucas that I loved him. That should have terrified me. Instead, it made me reach out suddenly and wrap my arms around him. Lucas made an “oof” sound and then laughed as I hugged him to me, pulling his body into mine with all of my strength.

“Jeez, babe,” He said, “it was just a little fall. I know you’re an actor, but you don’t have to be so dramatic.”

I pushed him back, my fingers digging into his upper arms as I looked him in the eyes.

“I love you,” I gasped.

Lucas’ eyes grew wide and then a smile slowly formed on his face.

“I love you,” I repeated.

“Say it again,” He said.

“I love you,” I said, “I’ve loved you for a very long time.”

Lucas gave me a funny look.