AllFreeNovel
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We’ve wrestled with one another dozens of times, and I’ve leapt into his arms nearly a hundred times before. It’s not the first time Lucas’ hands have found their way to my rear, but today is the first day he doesn’t remove them like he’s touched a hot iron. His strong fingers cup my bottom, and he doesn’t have the half-apologetic, half-juvenile smirk boys give when they are caught doing something they shouldn’t.
I adjust my hands behind his neck and press my forehead to his, not understanding what is going on. If what I’m doing is wrong, why does it feel so good? Our eyes connect, and I am whole once again. Lucas is home.
“Right back at you, BND,” I joke, inserting his nickname more as a reminder to myself of what we’ve built, what we are, what is at risk. My fingers toy with the back of his hair, thicker than he normally prefers. Something so simple brings me a ridiculous amount of joy. It’s always been the case. “Now my world is right again.” I whisper the words I’ve carried with me all day. The ones that had a goofy smile plastered on my face as Lucas’ dad helped me string up his welcome home sign. The words that accompanied me on my trip into town to pick up Lucas’ favorite snacks. The words I singsong to myself as I pitched this tent. My world is right again because Lucas is home.
“Not just yet,” he whisper-warns. My Lucas-induced haze clouds my judgment. He tilts his neck up and places a quick ghost kiss on my lips.
My freaking lips.
Lucas has kissed me a million times—the brotherly kiss on the top of my head, the be careful, goodbye kiss on my forehead, the quick thanks for meeting me, let’s catch this movie before it starts peck on the cheek. But only once before has Lucas ever kissed me on the lips.
It’s over before I can take a breath. It’s over before it registers as real. He lowers me from his grip, my body pressing against his hard chest on its descent. “Now everything is right.”
My bare feet land on the floor, and my eyelashes flutter, attempting to comprehend what just happened. “I can’t believe…” The words stumble across my lips.
“I’m home. Right? I can’t believe it either.” His voice squeaks with excitement as he pulls me into a hug so tight I fear he’s going to crack my ribs. I don’t protest, pressing my head to his chest, close my eyes, and inhale the scent of my past, present, and future.
His hand slips into mine, and he leads me to the blankets on the floor of the tent. Cross-legged, we sit in front of one another. The concept of personal space doesn’t exist between us. Our knees touch, and our bodies lean toward each other—I’m an electrified magnet, and he’s my north pole. I will always find him.
“Tell. Me. Everything,” he demands. “What have I missed?” The twinkle in his eyes matches the look of wonderment on his face. There isn’t a day that has gone by that we haven’t shared a text, a comment on a social media post, a DM, or a late-night phone call. Yet, we both understand the question. There is so much you don’t say, can’t say, or won’t say remotely. Online posts are curated, edited, compressed versions of stories, they lack the nuance and details. They’ll never hold a candle to having your best friend in front of you without a ticking clock hanging over your head and slowly peeling back layer after layer of a well-told tale.
“I finally got your mom to eat rabbit,” I start in a safe place I know will keep that beautiful smile on his golden face.
His eyes glaze over as his hand lands on the top of my knee. I ignore my body’s reaction. “She told me. Thanks for doing that.”
I wave a hand at him. “Your parents are extensions of mine.” And it’s true. The Hobbses have always welcomed me. They call me the daughter they never had, a title I relished for so many years.
“Still, I appreciate it, and this.” Lucas plants a hand behind him and lifts his hips up, reaching into his back pocket to grab his phone. A tingle races through me as my eyes lock on a part of Lucas that should never be this close to me. I push down a dry gulp as he plops down to the blanket, scrolling on his phone, unaware of what he’s just done to me. “Here it is.”
“No freaking way.” I snatch the phone from his hand. I stare at the photo of me dressed in Lucas’ red-and-black checkered lumberjack shirt and a pair of too-baggy shorts, peeking out beneath a worn Arizona Diamondbacks baseball cap twisted backward on the top of my head. My head is down, wooden spoon in my hand as I stir a pot of tomato sauce.
I remember his mom taking pictures that night. Every Tuesday night that Lucas was away at college I showed up at the Hobbses’ home and cooked them a meal. Sometimes, my parents joined. Occasionally I’d bring a friend, but whenever it was just the three of us, I would sneak into Lucas’ closet and wear one of his outfits. I’ve spent so much time with Lucas I can mimic the way he speaks, the way he walks, the way he laughs. Once a week, I became Lucas, and the three people who love him more than breathing itself pretended to miss him just a bit less.
“You have no idea how much your visits mean to Mom.” I glance up to catch his head shake as if he’s still in disbelief the girl next door was not kidding when she said I’ll find a way to make them not miss you so much.
I swipe the screen and am surprised when his sign-in screen appears. “Is my picture on your home screen?” I hear the surprise in my voice.
He reaches for the phone, and I barely feel it slip out of my hands. “Yeah, who else would it be?” I recognize the photo from my Instagram account from almost a year ago. Me hanging half out my bedroom window, looking out into the distance toward the Hobbses’ house. I was in a melancholy mood and missing the BND.
He tosses the line as if unaware of the impact of this moment. We’re no longer in middle school or even high school. This is a big deal. “And none of your girlfriends had an issue with this… us?”
He scoffs and drops his phone onto the blanket. “Any woman who doesn’t understand us isn’t worth the fight. Trust me.”
His non-answer speaks volumes. It speaks of a history he’s not shared with me, and we share everything—well, almost everything. He must read my expression as he pinches his brow. “It’s not a big deal.”
But it is.
Lucas leans forward, his left arm wrapping around my lower back, and lifts me up as if I weigh nothing. A spark electrifies me, and my heart is off to the races—again. I fly over his shoulder, rear in the air. He wraps a firm hand across my bare legs to steady me, the touch of his fingers on my legs shooting tingles to places it shouldn’t. But it’s what I feel next that nearly causes me to faint. His free hand lands on my rear, a playful smack, before he jerks my phone from my rear pocket. Before I can react, I’m free falling as he lowers me to the blanket, back to Earth. It will take a few minutes for my heart to return from its orbit.
My hands race to my mouth too late to stop the giggle that escapes. “I’ll prove it,” he says with the confidence of a trial attorney about to trip up a witness on cross-examination. He swipes my phone and flips it back to face me. I don’t need to look to know what I’ll find. My lock screen.
A picture of Lucas and me from high school. My chest tightens, not because of the hypocrisy of my statement, but because of the picture Lucas has stared at a hundred times and has never made the connection: the two of us beaming, moments after racing down the street playing a game of leapfrog on the way to the high school house party. It is the last picture of us before we kissed.
“Pot.” Lucas points down at the screen. “Black.” He lifts his chin toward his phone, sitting a foot away.
“It’s not the same.” My defensive mumble isn’t enough.
“It totally is.” He shuts me down like a judge pounding his gavel with the final words.
