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At the end of it all, I didn’t feel uneasy. I think it would take a little time to get used to because it’s been just us girls for years, but I trust Landon with our lives. And that time we spent at his house went so well…even when Rae got gassy from a Happy Meal we treated her to for getting a good report card. It didn’t gross him out at all—likely because he’s a guy, but still.
“Yeah,” I finally tell him. “I’d be comfortable with it.”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “That’sawesome. Think Rae would, too?”
I snort. “Undoubtedly. Remember the mini-fit she threw when we had to come back over here?”
He tsks. “Aw, yeah, I do. It’s like she thought we’d never see each other again or something.”
“Yeah.” That was kind of sad. “And you should’ve heard her earlier.” I chuckle deeply as I think back on it. “I—oh, man—I came into the living room from the kitchen and she was looking real annoyed on the floor, so I said, ‘Babe, what’s wrong?’and she said,‘My butt likes Landon’s carpet better than ours.’”
A full laugh bursts out of him. “What?”
I try not to say, “Yeah!” too loudly, not wanting to wake Rae. “That’s what she told me and it was hilarious. So, you know, I’d say she misses being over there with you and your nicer carpet.” Shaking my head, I wonder if it’s really that different.
“Well,” he says, “I’m at my happiest when you two are with me, so I’m good for anything anytime. We’ll take all of our next steps whenyoudecide you’re ready.”
The truth in his words puts warmth in my chest, but before I can say anything back, I hear what sounds like his office door opening. Someone speaks unintelligibly to him.
“Hell, okay,” he replies in a different tone than the one he was using with me—it’s his manager tone. “I’ll be right there.”
“Gotta go?” I ask.
“Yep, couple patrons are arguing more than my bartenders like. Bastards cutting my phone call short….”
“Mmm. Well, try not to get punched like the last time you broke up a wild fight.” He laughs dryly, and I smile before I request more quietly, “Will you come give me a kiss when you get off?”
Once again, I can hear him smiling, too. “Count on it.”
We say goodbye and hang up.
I sigh as I look around the dim living room. When my eyes land on the carpet, I unfold a leg from under me and drag my toes across it, then wrinkle my nose. Itdoesfeel different than Landon’s carpet.
It’s probably because I live with a child that spills things on the floor sometimes, but I’m going to ignore that fact and side with her on it: his floor is better simply because it’s his.
*
Oh my God,I moan inwardly as I flash hot in the darkness of my room.
Under my shirt, Landon skims his fingertips down my spine instead of up like a moment ago, and I shiver just like I did then. He groans breathlessly into my mouth and it sends a new tremble of delight through me—how can I be this heated and still have chill bumps on me?
I didn’t mean to end up this way with him, but I don’t mind that I have. Idon’tmind.
Right around the time he got off work, I thought I heard something outside my bedroom window. Nevermind that we’re on the top floor—between the break-in across the hall and my crazy sister, who could reappear at any time, I have things to watch for. I did my best to peek out and investigate, but it was hard not to disturb the curtains and blinds too much, plus it was too dark to make anything out. So when Landon showed up, I asked if he would stay the night; I knew I either sounded like a scaredy cat or like I had an ulterior motive, but I didn’t care about the first one and I promised him the second wasn’t true. He didn’t care either way. He just wanted me to feel safe.
After a quick trip home for essentials, he came back, ate the snack I fixed for him, and got ready for bed with me. A comfortable silence fell once I was snuggled up to his side under my blanket; it was 1:45 in the morning, he’d checked the window three times and found nothing weird, and he’s off work tomorrow. We could rest.
But as tired as I was, I couldn’t fall asleep, and neither could he. The silence turned into a whispered conversation about people at the dance thinking he was Rae’s dad. As we talked, his fingertips idly rubbed at my scalp and mine along his scruffy jawline. Then he was lying on his side, too, facing me, and it was easy to go from whispering to kissing lazily.
Then the calmness melted into a burn.
The kisses went deep, and his touches went from soothing to wanting, and my arms went tighter and tighter around him because even with my tongue in his mouth and his chest against mine, I didn’t feel like I was close enough to him.
I still don’t.
The burn is now a blaze.
I’m aching in a way I’ve never ached before, and it worsens with every new kiss, every new touch of his fingertips to my skin, every new breath I feel move through him. And, no, I don’t mind it, because being with him like this is incredible.
