AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I won’t leave you again,” I whisper hoarsely. “I promise, Celeste. I’m never leaving again.”
After a few moments of silence, I peek down to see her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted. Asleep.
It’s okay, though.
I’ll tell her as many times as it takes—asleep or awake—for her to believe me.
She sleeps for about an hour. I don’t move an inch, even though my right arm goes numb at the twenty-minute mark. It’s worth it because when she wakes and looks up at me, for the briefest moment, I see everything I’ve ever wanted in her eyes. The same love I feel for her.
Then she blinks, and it’s gone like it was never there.
I make myself smile. “Feel better?”
She nods, those aqua eyes holding all the mysteries of the deep sea as they roam my face.
When she kisses me, I kiss her back because I can’t help it. Because I’m a fool worshipping at the altar of a goddess whose heart cannot be touched by a mere mortal. And when she straddles my waist and her hands undo my belt and lower the zipper of my jeans, I let her stay in control.
I let her take what she wants, even if she wants to consume all of me and leave nothing behind.
37
The interviews Wednesday morning go well. So well I’m beginning to feel like we might actually have a competent staff in the making. They do run longer than anticipated, though, so it’s after lunch by the time I make it up to Wild Lake.
As I near the entrance, I see Lucas already at work. Shirtless, perched near the top of a ladder that looks about ten seconds from kindling, he’s systematically sanding away at the faded letters of the sign. I park behind his car, then cut the engine and just watch for a minute.
I half-expect panic to rise in my chest, like it does most times I think of what’s happening between us. But it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because nothing can dent my good mood.
When Damien and I got home last night, we had a long talk—a rare exposure of his inner thoughts that I’ve missed terribly over the last year or so. We chatted about soccer camp and friends, but mostly about Daphne.
Listening to him dance around admitting his giant crush brought back the best kind of nostalgia—not for his dad, for once. For Lucas. For those first magical months of sophomore year when I realized being around him felt different. Electric and tingly.
When he looked at me, my heart pounded a little harder. When his arm brushed against mine, my breath stuttered and my skin came alive. I began to notice all the little details that had never mattered much before. His mouth—the bottom lip slightly fuller than the top—and the slight dimple to the right of it. The sparse freckles on his tanned nose. Even the color of his eyelashes and brows, several shades darker than his hair.
I didn’t quite know what to make of it, at least not until I woke up achy and hot with Lucas on my mind. While I didn’t have a female best friend, I had enough girlfriends and had read enough of my mom’s magazines to know what it meant.
I had a crush on Lucas.
My aggravating, funny best friend, who half the girls in our class already had a crush on. Who’d grown two inches since freshman year and gotten over a brief bout with acne. Whose quicksilver grin and deepening, melted-butter voice charmed adults, too, and got him out of detention more times than I could count.
The man in question pauses in his task to wipe sweat from his face with the back of his forearm. When my eyes lift from his flexing stomach, I find him watching me with a smug grin.
There’s no stopping the flush that surges up my neck to cover my face. The truth is a gentle wave that sweeps me up and cocoons me.
I have a crush on Lucas.
Sighing at the mingled tragedy and comedy of it all, I finally turn off the car and get out. At twelve, I would have been mortified to be caught ogling him. At thirty-three, I’m too old to care.
“Hey, Peapod. Enjoying the view?”
I pointedly check him out, settling on his ass in a pair of beat-up jeans. “Very much so.”
Surprise flashes briefly on his face before he chuckles and climbs down the ladder. I resist the urge to run forward and brace the bottom, but still breathe a sigh of relief when his feet hit the dirt.
“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” The tone is teasing, but the look in his eyes is anything but.
“No, but if you expect me to get up there to paint, you’re going to be standing on the ladder the whole time.”
“Duh.”
