Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
ISLA
Hendrix and I each carry our own bag of apples—per my request because I am not sharing—as we continue walking between the trees.
When we were driving past this orchard, Hendrix saw me looking at the sign, and he shocked me when he slammed on the brakes and pulled in.
Apple picking just seems like such a … family or serious couple activity. And yet, here we are, laughing and having a great time.
“Look at this one,” he says, holding up what could be the most perfect apple once he’s done shining it with his shirt. “This is like … catalog material.”
“It is,” I agree, nodding. “Let me have it.”
“Woman, I just had to climb that tree for this motherfucker,” he deadpans. “Like, straight-up George of the Jungle, and now you wanna take my apple?”
“Yep,” I singsong, stepping forward. “That’s basically what I’m saying.”
He looks from me to the apple, and his expression turns to amused as he steps toward me, leaving only an inch or two between us before lifting the apple to my mouth.
“Go on, Nineteen. Taste it.”
We may be talking about apples here, surrounded by a field of them, but when he brushes it to my lips, my heart flutters. I’m suddenly shy, and yet that doesn’t stop me from opening my mouth and taking a bite as he holds it steady.
“Well?” he rasps as I chew and swallow my bite down.
“It’s a good one. It’s sweet,” I whisper seconds before he takes a bite of it too.
“It is,” he agrees, his eyes suddenly darkening. “But I can think of something that’s even sweeter.” He tosses the apple beside us, and his eyes bore into mine.
His chest rises and falls while we continue this stare down.
He doesn’t need to say what’s sweeter—I can read between the lines.
I know—or I hope—that he’s talking about me.
And truth be told, if he wanted to shove me against a tree and do exactly what we did in the parking lot of the arena … I think I’d let him.
And more …
Hendrix’s eyes fall to my lips, and despite what I said the other night, I know if he kisses me, I’m not going to push him away.
I’m going to let it happen because, inside …
I want him to. I still stand by what I said.
Kissing is romantic, and it’s something that somehow feels deeper than the things we’ve done.
But I’m realizing that I’m okay with that now.
He drops his bag of apples to the ground, prompting me to do the same, before his face moves closer to mine. Hands cup my cheeks as he forces my lips to tilt upward.
My eyes flutter shut a split second before his lips connect with mine, and one of his hands slides into my hair. It feels like fireworks are being ignited throughout my entire body, exploding up to my brain, making me lightheaded as I kiss him back.
I’ve been kissed before, but I’ve never felt a kiss this deep into my being.
His hand drops down onto my waist, pulling my body against his, and I whimper into his mouth when his erection pokes into my abdomen.
I don’t want to come up for air—ever. Because right now, I’m too drunk off his kiss to think about why we shouldn’t be getting this close. If we stop, reality will strike.
But I can’t stop this—and right now, I don’t want to either. I’m not sure how long I’ll let this go on or how far I’ll let him take it, and I don’t get to find out either. Because when big, fat raindrops begin to fall from the sky, followed by the roar of thunder, I quickly pull away from him.
Hendrix reaches down, grabbing our bags from the ground before jerking his chin toward the other end of the field.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” he calls out as the rain turns into a pour.
We begin running side by side through the field, heading toward the small stand where you get your bags and also pay. When we reach the stand, he nods toward the truck as water drips from his hair and down his face.
“Go get in my truck. I’ll pay,” he yells, and reluctantly, I take off toward the truck.
I’m soaked now, and by the time I climb in, I’m shivering. But I feel worse for him when, moments later, I see him running toward me.
Opening the back door, he throws the two bags in before slamming it and getting behind the wheel.
“Guess it’s self-serve today, or they didn’t want to be here during the storm.” He shrugs. “I put money into their drop box. Hopefully I used their scale correctly.”
Water drips from him, and his hoodie is drenched, yet he looks at me and grins.
“Damn you, Nineteen. Distracting me with your plump fucking lips and making me get my ass soaked.” Turning the truck on quickly when he sees me shiver, he cranks the heat on. “Let’s get you out of the soaked clothes. You’re fucking freezing.”
My lips tremble. “Your clothes are dripping even more than mine,” I say, cringing. “Get that hoodie off. It’s drenched.”
“Hardy, if you want me to get naked, all you have to do is ask.” He pulls the hoodie off, tossing it into the back of the truck. “I have a clean spare practice jersey in the back and a pair of sweatpants. It’ll all be big for you, but you can wear that home.”
“You should wear them,” I say, chewing my bottom lip. “I’ll be fine. Really.”
Before he can answer, I tug my soaked hoodie off, leaving me in my NEU women’s hockey T-shirt, which is also saturated. But what’s getting me the most right now is my leggings sticking to my skin.
Pulling my wet sneakers off, I cringe but hook my fingertips into the waistband of my leggings. Before I tug them down, I glance at Hendrix.
“I’m not trying to be creepy, but I really need to put these on the dashboard over the heat because there’s no way I can make the drive home with this wet, disgusting fabric wrapped around my skin.”
As I roll off my leggings, Hendrix looks from me to straight forward, almost like he’s scared to look my way. But from the corner of my eye, I watch him peel his jeans off too.
“I’m not being a fucking weirdo, I swear,” he utters, almost as if he’s nervous. “But there’s no way I can ride home in those jeans either.”
“I don’t blame you,” I reply shyly.
Once the leggings are off, I set them on the heat vent.
“Sorry, hopefully you don’t mind me using your truck as a dryer.” I grimace and try to fight my body from shivering, but it’s useless. Even as the truck warms with each passing minute, my skin is covered in goose bumps.
As thunder booms and lightning strikes, the rain continues to pick up, then slows down, only to pick up once more.
“We’d better just wait for the storm to pass before we take off,” he says before looking my way again just as I shiver.
“Hey …” Hendrix mutters, his dark, wet hair falling onto his face as he pushes up the center console of the truck. “Come here.”
Every sane thought in my mind is telling me not to do it. It’s saying to ask to go home and keep my ass on this side of the truck. We’ve fooled around, sure. Yet, somehow, I know that if I crawl over onto him with both of us practically naked, what happens next will be much deeper.
But for whatever reason, when I’m around Hendrix Hunt, my sane brain cells don’t win. Instead, they fall to the ones that think it’s a good idea to crawl, half naked, onto the campus bad boy’s thighs.
I climb toward him, and he tugs me onto his lap so that I’m straddling him. I rest my head against his shoulder. His T-shirt is damp in some spots, but luckily, his hoodie soaked up most of the precipitation.
His arms wrap around my body, holding me against him, and little by little, my shivering slows, and I snuggle in a little deeper.
His fingertips scrape gently up and down my back, and my nipples harden, making me thankful that I have a bra and T-shirt on to shield me from poking into him. Even after being stuck in a rainstorm, he smells good enough to eat.
“Hey, Isla?” he utters quietly.
“Yeah?”
He inhales. “Thank you for today. For coming with me and for making it into a good day, even after Juliet forgot who I was.” He pauses. “I bet you’re wondering about Lilly now more than ever, huh?”
I swallow, unsure of how to answer. Every single time Juliet mentioned that name, Hendrix would flinch or become tense.
I don’t want to cause him pain by forcing him to talk about his sister.
But I also find myself wanting to understand him better.
And to understand him, I need him to open up to me.
“You don’t have to tell me anything that you aren’t comfortable with,” I whisper as gently as I can and reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze.
I’m met with silence, and when I release his hand, it doesn’t return to running up and down my back.
Finally, he speaks. “I haven’t seen Lilly since I was sixteen.
That’s when the state came in and took her.
She was, and I—” His breathing becomes shaky, and his body tenses.
“Lilly and I, we grew up with our father. The scum of the earth is the best way to explain him. Our mom died when we were little, and I don’t think she was much better, from what I remember. ”
I know that I shouldn’t push him, but I also know that him opening up this way is a breakthrough, and I want him to get it off his chest, everything that’s bothering him. So, reluctantly, I push for more.
“What happened to her?” I whisper, caressing his hair gently. “What happened to Lilly?”
Against my body, I can feel his heart racing while he avoids eye contact with me.
“I fucked up. I took something too far one day, and the state came and got her. I don’t even know if she’s okay.” He swallows, finally looking at me. “Your dad and Coach? They’re right to want to keep you away from me, Isla. I’m no good.”
I don’t know what he did on the day his sister was taken away, and I decide not to push any further because what he just shared had to have hurt to say. But slowly, it all clicks. His pain, it comes from guilt. Guilt that he let his sister down. And fear that she isn’t safe.