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I lifted my head to look down at her, running my thumb down her cheek, shaking my head in awe. Every day I thought I couldn’t love her more, but I did. I always did.
Sometimes thinking about how strong my feelings would be a year in the future, or ten years, was scary as hell.
“Who’s the best wife?” she asked, lowering her head while her gaze met mine.
“You are,” I said, letting my head relax back. “You’re better than best. No contest.”
Her head dipped again. Her fingers were curled around my shaft, her mouth traveling agonizingly and wonderfully slow just behind them until she reached the base. Then back to the tip, just to repeat the movement again, but this time twisting her wrist to change her grip enough to send my every nerve into a frenzy.
My eyes rolled back in my head, forgetting everything else but her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Heathens
Abby
AMERICA SIGHED, HER OILED SKINglistening in the early June sun. Her bikini had even less fabric than mine. The tiniest coral and white horizontal striped triangle top, and a matching cheeky bottom allowed for maximum surface area to brown.
The ice in her glass clinked together and popped as it melted—along with everything else in Eakins. Occasionally, a hint of a breeze would barely whisper through her hair, and she’d sigh.
We were happily baking our skin in the furthest corner of the fenced-in pool that was nestled in the center of my apartment complex.
Water splashed, and America snarled, raising her head to glare at the misfits we shared the space with.
“Mare,” I warned.
“Just let me yell at them once. Just once.”
“Then they’ll make a game of it. Those are Marsha Becker’s boys. She lets them run all over the property like heathens, and then yells at people for having the audacity to try to parent them. Just let it go. The water feels nice once in a while, anyway.”
“Until you realize they’ve pissed in that water,” she muttered, resituating her large, square sunglasses.
I chuckled, looking over at my best friend.
Her profile was flawless, her lip gloss glistening on her pouty lips, set just below her perfect pixie nose and above her divinely bestowed, softly defined jaw. She could have been a model or actress in L.A. had she not followed me to Eastern State. She could’ve been anything.
I looked over at her, wondering if she’d decided what that would be. So far, her answer had been,Who knows?
“So, Trent’s going to be okay. That’s a relief,” she said. “I know Shep’s parents went to visit him today. I think Jim was really worried.”
“Yeah, he’s good at hiding it.”
“Must be why you get along with him so well,” she said with smirk. “Congrats on the thing with that teacher, by the way. The internship or whatever. I’m so proud of you. You worked really hard for that.”
I smiled, feeling uncharacteristically affectionate. “Mare, do you remember when we met?” I asked. “I mean the first day.”
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked at me over her glasses. “How could I forget? You were this confident yet mousy, lost, sweet, jaded, and jilted thing. I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you. The first day of junior year.”
I turned onto my stomach, smiling at her. “You didn’t love me. It was just a crush.”
“No, it was love. True love,” she said, settling her head back against her lounger. “I purposely picked the seat next to yours and asked you to come hangout at my house within the first five minutes. You came to dinner and you never left. For the most part. I’m so glad we finally talked you into moving in. Even if it did take until the last three months of senior year.”
“Your parents were awesome. My mom was …”
“A drunk.” Her smiled faded. “Have you talked to her?”
I shook my head. “She wouldn’t even know I’m married if it wasn’t for Benny. I wouldn’t know that she knew it wasn’t for Jesse. How messed up is that?”
