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His room was larger than my apartment in New York, so we placed her sleeping pod as far away from the bed as possible. We planned on making a few noises tonight.
Sports trophies and memorabilia from his school days were still hanging where he’d left them. His old bulletin board drew me like a magnet. Pearl Jam tickets were pinned next to Metallica. I didn’t see any girls’ photos around, which made me feel better for some reason. I guess I didn’t want to imagine anyone with a hot teenage version of Lucas.
“Enjoying your snooping?” Lucas asked as I turned around, caught in the act.
“I was just trying to get a feel for you as a teen.” I shrugged my shoulders innocently.
“I want to show you something.” He took my hand in his. “Come with me.”
I followed him to a closet door, squinting at him when our eyes met. “What’s behind this?”
“Probably a lot of dust. So get ready.” He opened the door, and a stale odor filled my nose. He was right. “I want to show you something.”
Lucas sat down on the wooden floor, and I joined him, side by side. “My father hated that I loved to write. One time, he burned a journal of mine, so I started hiding them from him. I haven’t looked at them since I left for college.”
The wooden planks gave way next to Lucas’s foot. Carefully, he removed them, revealing stacks of college composition type notebooks.
Lucas removed most of them from their hiding place, holding them as if they were made of gold. One was marked “Summer 2000.” He opened it up, stopping on a page that had what looked like a poem.
“I wrote this after my mother’s accident.” He handed it to me, open to the page. “I know it by heart now.”
I read the title, “Remember Lilly.” A lump formed in my throat, and I dared not read on. I handed it back to him. He was going to torture himself if I didn’t step in.
“What else have you written?”
“Mostly tragic stuff filled with teenage angst and hatred for my father. Maybe a few dirty pieces. Nothing new or outstanding.”
“Read me something naughty please.” He laughed at my request.
“I need alcohol first.” He scooted some boxes on the floor. Behind one of them was a clear bottle.
“Peach Schnapps.” He turned the bottle over in his hands. “No expiration date. Whatta ya say? Want to pretend like we’re both seventeen again?”
“Hand me that bottle, you sexy devil.” I snatched it from his hand, unscrewed the top, and took a swig. Then I coughed up half my lung.
“Jesus, Maggie.” Lucas laughed and grabbed the bottle from me. “I didn’t mean act that much like a teenager. You have to sip this shit.”
We passed the bottle back and forth until it was empty. Lucas searched for the dirty poems he wrote, but I didn’t want to wait until he found them. I’d prefer to act them out in person.
I started kissing up his neck, then around his ear. “I’ve never slept with anyone before,” I said, channeling my younger, virginal self.
“Let me be your first, Maggie. I swear, I’ll be gentle and not tell the guys in the locker room.”
“Oh my God, did that line really work?” He waggled his brows, but I had a feeling this sexy bastard didn’t even need to say a word to get the girls back then.
Lucas scooped me up off the floor, and I ducked for him to carry us through the door. He walked to the bed, ravishing me in a not so gentle way, making me glad the grown-up Lucas was under the covers with me.
By some miracle, we didn’t wake up Esmé with our escapade. Fully relaxed from the busy day, we stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars scattered over the ceiling.
“I love it here with you. Away from the city and all the crazy hustle and bustle. Everything’s so quiet. I’d forgotten what that was like.”
“Let’s never go back,” Lucas said with a quiet laugh.
“You know, that would be fine with me. I just can’t seem to get Manhattan to feel like home.”
“I get it. I’m writing about a man who came to Manhattan, then realized he’d end up selling his soul to live his dream there. I’ve been working on it for a few years. I should finish it, maybe try to get it published.”
“I like that plan,” I whispered, trailing my hand over his bare chest.
“What about you, Peaches? What have you always dreamed of doing?”
“I went to school to be a psychologist. But when I was a little girl, my mother took me to an alpaca farm in southern Alabama. They look similar to llamas, but they’re way sweeter and have this short hair used like wool. I fell in love with them. I told my mother someday I wanted to be a farmer and raise them too.”
