18. Eighteen
Eighteen
Noah
I shouldn’t have told Lennon.
I recognize it was an idiotic decision, but the idea that Ellis would think anything negative about whatever Griffin is doing didn’t sit right with me.
And I trust Lennon.
For whatever reason.
The stars peek out overhead as Ryland strums a guitar across the crackling bonfire. Everyone is laughing, lost in conversation, when Lennon plants herself on the log beside me, a skewer and marshmallow in hand.
“I’m not going to tell,” she affirms before piercing the marshmallow and holding it out over the fire. “I wouldn’t ruin something like that for my best friend.”
I watch as the glow of the fire dances over her features, touching everything I had the privilege of touching just yesterday. I’m jealous of the light, watching as the cool autumn breeze picks up a strand of her hair. Without much thought, I reach out and tuck it behind her ear.
Surprisingly, Lennon doesn’t pull away. She just turns to look at me, those green eyes vibrant under the vast night sky.
I clear my throat. “I didn’t think you would.”
There’s a pause before she speaks again. “I need to start picking out more furniture for the house. I’m thinking of thrifting most of it, but there are a few things I may just want to pick up for ease. Are you any good at putting bookshelves together?”
I chuckle, running a hand through my hair and looking back at the fire where her marshmallow is hovering. “That is one thing I have experience with,” I admit.
I can hear the satisfied smile in her voice. “Good.”
Ryland’s playing ceases as he nears the end of a song. When he starts strumming again, the song wraps around the fire and mingles with the quiet conversations.
“I’m supposed to go back to my family’s around Thanksgiving,” Lennon says, slowly turning the marshmallow to toast the other side. “Apparently, my sister has decided she’s excited to see me.”
I lean forward, wringing my hands together. “Are we supposed to be happy about that?” I ask.
Lennon winces. “I don’t know. I guess it’s good. She hasn’t taken much of an interest in my life–busy, I suppose. Recently, her newest hobby consists of hounding me with questions. She asked about the inn and my love life, but none of it feels–” She shrugs. “It’s not warm, you know?”
“I can buy you a heated blanket.” I smile, turning my head to look at her. “Should take care of that.”
Lennon laughs, and I long to drown in the sound of it. “Yeah, okay.” She shifts on the log, moving closer. “I might be letting my dad’s comments get in the way of a relationship with her. It’s just weird feeling like you’re living in someone else’s shadow and not measuring up. Especially because she’s just so–”
“Cold?” I offer.
“Shut up.”
“Never.” My chest pulls tight. Something about Lennon talking to me about this feels important–like she doesn’t frequently open up. Getting to know her is a gift. “You could be right, but I am not one to talk being an only child.”
“You must be real selfish, Noah.” She nudges me with her shoulder.
I can’t stop the smile from dancing on my lips. “Yeah, pretty much. Minus the fact that when my parents get old and die, I’ll have to do it alone.”
Her face twists. “Oof, okay.”
I laugh quietly, watching as Ellis leans into Griffin across the way, the two of them in their own world. Cass, Ryan, and his partner are listening to Ryland play. It’s a weird feeling that strikes me as I realize the circle of friends I’ve created–the one without Alexis.
Lennon pulls the perfectly browned marshmallow from near the fire and examines it before grabbing a graham cracker and piece of chocolate from the chair next to her. She quickly assembles the dessert while Griffin says something across the fire that makes everyone else laugh.
“Those are better burnt,” I say.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” she says without hesitation, and this time, it’s my turn to nudge her shoulder.
“Sure, I am,” I say. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Why did you video call Ellis from my bathroom?”
She turns to me; the s’more gripped between her finger and her thumb. “Girl stuff.”
“You told her we kissed.”
“So?” she asks. “They already know we fucked, Noah. I think we are past that.”
My eyes flick to her lips on instinct, and I note the way she sucks in a breath. We’re sitting close–too close–trapped in our own little world around the fire. “I meant what I said,” I whisper. “I’d do it again.”
Before she can respond, Cass stands up from her spot, holding a large tote bag. “So,” she begins, her blue eyes lighted. “I found some flashlights at the dollar store the other day. Not sure if they’ll work, but I was thinking we have enough people to play flashlight tag. Why the fuck not? It’s dark out here anyway.”
“I’m down,” Ryan says, reaching for the bag and grabbing a flashlight out of it. He tests that it works and grins.
“What do we do?” Griffin starts. “Hide around the property or whatever.”
“Yes, exactly,” Cass answers.
“Okay,” Lennon starts, whipping her hands on the grass. “You guys can use the house or the barn. There’s a short trail over by the woods that I plan on clearing more of. Just be careful because I don’t know what is out there, but it should be fun.”
Ryland flicks the latch on his guitar case, his sandy blonde hair falling across his brow. “Sounds like fun,” he says before getting up to grab a flashlight from the bag, too.
We all take turns testing to make sure they work before establishing that Griffin will be it to start.
Once we are all standing and ready, Griffin yells to go from the other side of the house, and I take off toward the barn, flashlight off and nothing but the starlight to guide me–which fucking sucks because I stumble over at least four random holes in the yard. I make a note to fix those for Lennon before grabbing the old wooden door and attempting to pry it open.
The door sticks when I pull on it. Muscles straining, I throw my body weight into it and curse when the rusty tracks of the sliding barn door screech.
I consider finding a new spot, but with the clock still ticking, I enter the musty barn. In the darkness, it’s hard to make out anything aside from the dirt floors littered with hay and the scent of aged timber. The wooden ladder to my left seems promising, and I grip the creaking wood, testing the bottom rung before ascending toward the hayloft. The loft seems safe enough for walking, and the twenty bales of straw stacked sporadically provide a nice cover. Finding a small alcove in between the bales, I stand with my back against the wooden wall of the barn.
Cobwebs ghost over my forearm, and I wipe them away, shaking off what feels like fifty years of dust.
When a light shines through the cracks in the wall toward the barn, my stomach sinks. Of course, this would be the first fucking place he’d look. I’m a thirty-two-year-old man, and I can’t fucking figure out this childish game.
“Ouch.” A soft voice sounds from below, and I still. Footsteps up the ladder, a light streaking across the ground floor of the barn, and my heart kicks up a notch.
She’s headed straight for the hayloft.
“Shit.” I smile, recognizing Lennon’s whispered curse just before she shoves herself into the small alcove I’ve found, her eyes widening when she spots me.
I’m not fucking losing this game.
Tugging at her arm gently, I spin her around, pulling her in until her back presses to mine. She pushes further, her ass against my cock, and her hair tickling my nose. The scent of amber and vanilla fills my nostrils. There’s a touch of sweetness to it, drowning out the smell of old hay and dust.
She must have worn perfume.
“He’s going to find us,” she whispers, gripping the darkened flashlight in one hand.
My grip on her tightens, holding her even closer as my nose brushes against her ear. I whisper, trying to keep my voice as quiet as possible, noting that Griffin has entered the barn and is currently searching the bottom level, wading through random storage items. “He will if you don’t stop talking,” I say. “You need to be quiet, Lennon.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps, her voice a hushed whisper. The softness of the skin at her neck, the scent of her perfume, the curve of her ass–it all sends a pleasant buzz over my skin. I’m hyper aware of every place our bodies touch–the ways they’ve touched in the past. My hands slide to her hips, holding her to me. When she shifts, grinding gently against my cock, I fight off a groan. There’s no way I’m going to be able to hide what this is doing to me.
Fuck .
“You didn’t seem to mind that the other day,” I add, and she freezes.
For a moment, I’m afraid I’ve said the wrong thing. Maybe yesterday was too much. Maybe she’s regretting the whole thing.
My fingers loosen where I grip her.
“Those were entirely different circumstances,” she whispers. “Now shut up, or he’s going to find us.”
I fight the chuckle that threatens to break free, enjoying the feel of her when she pushes closer.