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“Definitely. Want to grab something to eat? I think a bunch of people are headed to the sub shop.”
“Yeah. Micah and Shelly are going. He said he’d give us a ride after if we went,” Gavin states.
“Cool. Anything you want to do after?”
“I thought maybe we could hang and watch your favorite movies on repeat.”
Like a five-year-old, I start jumping up and down like a fool. “Seriously?!” I plant a quick kiss on his lips. “You really are the best boyfriend ever.”
His returning smile and hug tells me he knows.
We are curled up on the couch, my back to Gavin’s front, as Lord of the Rings plays on the television. We have just reached the part where Arwen is trying to help save Frodo’s life because he had the ring on too long. Gavin stretches behind me, adjusting his arm as we spoon in the dim living room of my house.
His finger slowly skims up and down the side of my torso, repeating the circuit over and over. Since we started dating, he has touched me like this countless times. The soft strokes are sweet and soothing and stir flutters in my chest. But today, his touch feels different. My skin hotter. My body needier. Breath heavier. Heart more anxious. Only I’m not sure if it is just me feeling it.
God, I hope it isn’t just me feeling it.
My parents won’t be home from work for at least another two hours. And the realization of this tidbit causes perspiration to break free across my skin. My heart thump, thump, thumps louder in my chest. A tight pinch in my lungs as I try to breathe normal and not start panting. His fingers light a frenzy under my skin everywhere he touches.
When his fingers graze over the curve of my hip, my eyes roll back and I close my lids. A deep breath later and I roll over to face him. Once I resituate, his fingers continue their slow, sensual tease of my opposite side. I study his face, the light from the screen dimming and brightening with the scene and hiding his face every few seconds.
“You don’t want to watch the movie?” he asks, confused.
I swallow hard and want to laugh at his question. Want to ask if he is joking. He knows I have seen this a hundred plus times. I have most of the lines memorized. Have backup DVDs in case one gets scratched. But he knows how much I love it, so I don’t laugh. He watches them over and over with me because of how he feels for me. If that isn’t some form of love, I don’t know what is.
Reaching up, I thread my fingers through his hair and lean forward, bringing my lips to his. My top leg wiggles between his as he throws his over my hip, pulling me closer. We have made out on the couch before—at my house and his—but today feels different. More heated. More intense. A desire to go further. To take the next step.
His hand dips under my shirt and he grazes my navel with the tops of his short nails. The stroke has me drawing back and gasping. A second later, I bring my lips back to his in a frenzy. My hands roam his face, his neck, his chest through the cotton rock band tee. When I reach his waist, my fingertips tickle along the skin there, eliciting a hiss from his lips.
The urge to take it further lingers in the gravity surrounding us. Weighs us down. Both of us greedy. The fire. The hunger. The raw intensity of lust and desire. It drives us forward. As much as I have thought about waiting until we are a little older, I can’t deny how much I want him in this moment. And if I want him like this, I can only imagine what he must be feeling.
But he breaks the kiss. Our breaths panting, hearts hammering. And neither one of us can shift our eyes from the other.
“Do you not want to…” I leave the question unfinished, unsure if this is something he wants. He has as much of a choice to make as I do.
He catches the worry on my face and his answer is immediate. “I do. Believe me, I do. It’s just… what if your parents come home? That’d be a moment no one would ever forget. Plus” —he sweeps a few straggler hairs aside— “I’d like our first time to be more special than the couch while watching a movie. Not that we have to plan it, but it’s a big deal. For both of us.”
He makes a valid point. But I can’t help the rapid-fire pulse banging in my chest right now. Or the intense craving that grows low in my belly. “I guess you’re right. But can we keep making out? I was enjoying myself immensely.”
His laugh is loud and throaty and vibrates against my chest as he brings me closer to him. “Sorry I cut you off, baby.”
And then he leans down, brings my mouth back to his and we get lost in each other for the remainder of the movie. Arms and legs, hands and fingers, feet in tangles, skin touching skin. It’s hot and needy and all-consuming. When the credits scroll up the screen, we have to tear ourselves away from each other. Gasping and overheated.
Everything is perfect. Everything is wonderful. And I pray it will be like this forever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cora
Present
Can exhaustion and jubilation go hand in hand? Most days I would answer with a resolute no. Absolutely not.
But today, after only five hours of sleep, I haven’t stopped smiling since my eyes opened. It was the first reaction I had when my alarm sounded. Made brushing my teeth a bit more challenging. Even Luna noticed the difference in my demeanor when I poured kibble into her bowl, her furry little body weaving between my legs and purring loudly. If her mama is happy, she is happy.
The young woman behind the counter at the juice bar hands me my coffee and a small brown bag containing my coconut bowl. I sip the delicious brew before exiting and hopping back in my car. Before starting up the engine, I steal a quick bite of my bowl and relish in the creaminess.
The drive from Main Street to Causeway Boulevard is brief, loaded with sights and people. Runners and cyclists and families. Parks and playgrounds and golfers. One of my favorite parts of Dunedin is the small-town vibe. Everyone here is friendly. The town bursts with energy. Events pop up every weekend, if not more frequently. Not every
