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“Okay, let’s go inside.”
Maeve climbs out of the car as soon as the words leave my mouth. Rather than heading toward the cabin like I expect, she darts over to her car and retrieves a bag before she heads for the porch. As soon as she does, I let out a deep breath and then grab my own gym bag from the backseat.
I run through the rain to the porch where Maeve is already waiting. I unlock the front door, and flip on the lights that illuminate the living room and the rain streaking down the glass windowpanes.
The cabin is just as chilly as the last time we were here, so I head over to the wood stove to get a fire going. I take my time piling the wood inside and lighting the match. I’m nervous. And I don’t get nervous. Not around other girls, not before big games.
This moment feels weighted. Important. And I’m terrified I’m going to mess it up. The fire roars to life as soon as I drop the match, and I move the grate back into place with a loud scrape. It rattles into the perfectly shaped opening.
I can feel Maeve’s eyes on me as I turn around. I pick up the bag I dropped and head toward the ladder tucked in the corner.
She follows.
“Ladies first,” I tell her. Maeve raises her eyebrows at me but slings her bag over her shoulder and starts climbing the worn wooden rungs without comment. I follow her.
“Romantic,” Maeve remarks as I reach the top.
I snort as I study the loft I used to stay in when I visited Fayetteville with my parents. “My grandparents and parents stayed in the rooms downstairs. It felt weird to take you into one of those.”
“But bunk beds seemed like a good idea?” I look over at Maeve, and she’s grinning.
“Shut up, Stevens.”
She drops her bag and strolls over to me. The thudding of my heart quickens with every step. She doesn’t stop until she’s close. Close enough, it feels like we’re touching, even though we’re not.
I can see every fleck of green in her eyes. Olive. Sage. Mint. Moss. Pine. Each shade is there. Swirling with the heat and the admiring emotion in her gaze.
She kisses me first, breaking the anticipation that’s been steadily building between us. We stumble our way over to the bottom bunk. It’s twice the size of the upper twin bed, but it’s still a tight fit. I’m not exactly short, and neither is Maeve.
We tumble onto the faded quilt, side by side. We kiss for a while before Maeve grows impatient. Once again, she makes the first move, sliding her hands underneath the hem of my crewneck sweatshirt and pulling the material up and over my head, taking my t-shirt with it.
Maeve’s eyes turn molten as she drags her hands across the exposed planes of my chest. She tugs at my jeans next, and I oblige her, pulling the denim off. Maeve does the same with hers. I yank the sweater over her head, and then we’re both down to our underwear.
I pause, letting my eyes trail along her body until they stop to rest on the green eyes that have come to rule my world. She’s stunning, but it’s the trust teeming in her gaze that guts me.
Maeve Stevens trusts me. And it feels more potent in this moment than any other we’ve shared. Trust is a two-way street, and for us it’s one littered with potholes and landmines. One that should have been a dead-end road based on nothing but our addresses.
For some reason, I placed blind faith in those green eyes sitting in the woods two and a half years ago, and I’m thankful for whatever compelled me to do so. I don’t think we would be here if I hadn’t.
I’m still experiencing the foreign feeling of nerves. Every other time I’ve done this, it’s been a series of fumbled touches in the dark. Not the purposeful way we discarded most of our clothing.
The lights I turned on when we arrived are far from a spotlight, but they cast enough of a glow I can see everything. Every speck of green in her eyes, every freckle, every line of muscle. I’m also entirely sober, which is another departure from what I’ve come to expect from sex.
I roll away from Maeve and grasp the gym bag I brought inside, digging through the assortment of clothes, granola bars, and empty water bottles until I find my wallet. I grab the condom out of it, pull down my boxer briefs, and roll it on. I turn to find Maeve has shed her underwear as well. I walk back over to her and hover over her figure, gradually closing the distance between our bodies until we’re skin to skin.
I stare at her, trying to memorize this moment. The feel of her warm body against mine. The emotion swirling in her eyes.
“Youhavedone this before, right?” Maeve teases as I continue to hesitate. I catch a glimmer of self-consciousness in her words.
“Stevens, I’m trying to set a mood here, okay?”
“Well, my current mood is impatient. Do you need me to do something? I thought this part was all you.” She grins, and I laugh.
“I can handle it,” I assure her as I ease inside. The amusement disappears from her face, and her startled gaze meet mine. “Are you okay?” I ask softly.
She nods rapidly a couple of times. “Yeah, it feels good. Weird, but good.”
“Good,” I repeat, trying to focus on anything besides how perfectly tight she feels.
