Chapter 24 #2
“I like having you to myself,” I tell her. “I feel like I hardly ever do.”
Most of the time I spend with Lennon is at Matthews Farm.
I’m closer with her grandfather than I ever was with either of mine, but it never feels like we’re totally alone there.
And whenever we’re not at her farm, it’s around my friends or Cassie or worse, random people from town who stare at us the whole time.
I feel like I’m often on eggshells, not wanting to appear too desperate for her attention. Not wanting to get into an argument about anything when we probably won’t have time to come to any sort of resolution before I have to leave again.
“I like it too,” Lennon tells me before tilting her head back to catch the sunbeams filtering down from the sky.
The only sound is the splash of my paddle as we glide along the glassy surface of the lake, topped with a light layer of mist that’s quickly disappearing. A bird’s call echoes in the distance, reverberating across the empty, open space.
“Must not be many early risers living around here,” Lennon comments, looking around the lake we appear to have to ourselves. “Guess none of them got dragged out of bed.”
“You would have been up by now anyway,” I retort.
She doesn’t deny it. “Yeah, the curse of growing up on a farm. If I ever do leave, that’s going to take some getting used to.”
I catch how she says if, not when.
It’s not news to me that Lennon’s life plan has never not included remaining in Landry. Or that I’m really the only complicating factor.
We keep drifting along the surface of the lake until the sun truly starts to shine, burning away any lingering mist and bathing the surface of the lake in sparkles.
“We should probably head back,” I tell Lennon.
She nods in agreement, so I paddle to the left. The green hull of the canoe slowly spins around to face the way we came from.
I’m distracted by maneuvering the canoe around a floating dock, so I miss the moment Lennon takes my sweatshirt off. I glance over in response to the movement I catch out of the corner of my eye and watch as she shimmies out of the shorts she’s wearing as well.
“Wh—” I clear my throat, taken totally off guard. “What are you doing?”
She grins unexpectedly, as she tosses her clothes in a heap on the floor. “Exactly what it looks like.”
Before I have the chance to blink she’s in the lake, her brown hair looking black when her head emerges from the water and she bobs beside the canoe.
“Come on, Winters.” She leans back so she’s floating on her back. “Water is warm this time.”
I glance around. There’s still no one else in sight on the lake. We’re close to a small cove with a rock outcrop that will keep motorboats away. And the shoreline here is densely wooded, no houses visible.
My eyes return to Lennon floating.
I smile at the sight.
Lennon is serious and responsible and often inscrutable. A playful, joking Lennon is rare. A version of herself I hardly get to see, and have never seen her show anyone else besides Earl.
I stand, the canoe rocking slightly as pull my hoodie off. Lennon shifts so she’s treading water. Her hazel eyes are focused on me and filled with heat. I pull down my shorts, and after a moment of hesitation, add my boxer briefs to the pile. Wearing them back wet under dry clothes will suck.
When I break through the surface of the water, she’s right next to me. “It’s nice, right?”
“Definitely warmer than last time.” When we came here in high school it was spring, not summer.
Now that I’ve adjusted to the initial shock, the water feels refreshing.
I’m way more focused on Lennon than the temperature, though.
She’s close enough I can see every freckle on her face.
Study the droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes.
Watch the pulse of her heartbeat thrum beneath her jawline.
A line of water streaks down from her darkened hair to her cheek, and I brush it away with my finger.
“You know,” she starts. “Since I’m naked, and you’re also naked…”
I groan, having no trouble figuring out what she’s suggesting. “Len, there’s no way I can keep us both afloat and actually move once I’m inside of you.”
“Thought you were so athletic, Mr. Hotshot Baseball Pitcher.”
I smile and shake my head. “Not that athletic. We’ll drown.”
She floats closer, winding her arms around my neck and wrapping her legs around my waist. “What a way to go, though,” she whispers.
I manage a laugh before her lips are on mine. Our bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces. Her hands travel up my back and across my shoulders, slipping into my hair. I got it cut recently, so there’s not much to pull. But her fingernails graze my scalp, and it feels so good I don’t care.
My hands slide down to her hips, the water adding a slipperiness that’s surprisingly erotic. The last—only—time I kissed a girl in the water, it was her.
Things were uncertain between us in a different way back then. Every time I kissed her, I was worried it would be the last time. I’m not worried about that now. And I’m no longer a fumbling teenager either. Just because sex seems logistically impossible doesn’t mean we can’t do other things.
Lennon gasps when I pull her right on top of my erection, severing the connection between our mouths. “Make yourself come on me,” I whisper, moving my lips down the side of her neck.
“Here?” she murmurs back. I can’t see her face from this angle, but I’m sure she’s looking around our surroundings. Even if someone has showed up, it doesn’t matter. They’d have to be right beside us to see what’s going on beneath the water.
“Yeah. I want to watch.”
“What about you?”
“Len, we both know that even when you get into Clarkson, we’ll still be separated for another year.
I get it; it’s okay.” I press another kiss against her wet skin, right in the curve where her shoulder meets her neck.
“I have an excellent memory. I might not get off right now, but I promise I will. Many times, probably.”
Lennon bites her bottom lip, a blush working its way across her skin despite the cool water.
Her hips begin moving. Slowly, at first, then faster and faster. Her breathing quickens as she rubs against me, chasing pleasure.
Sexy.
Shy.
Mine .
I never experienced jealousy, until I met Lennon. My whole life, everything has been handed to me. Other people wanted to be me. Be around me.
So it took me a little while to figure out what the tightness in my chest was when I’d see her walking out of Biology, laughing with Will Masterson.
Why it pissed me off so much when someone would make a joke about the grass stains in her jeans or the hay in her hair.
And once I admitted it to myself, I kind of wished I was still in denial.
Because nothing changed between us for a long time.
I spent years knowing I had absolutely no claim on her and hating that fact.
Even if we do break up one day, if she decides long distance isn’t worth it, the way she once told me, I’ll always be hers.
And I’ll never forget this moment, seeing her fall apart and knowing I’m the reason her lips are parted and her eyes are hazy.
Lennon pulls my lips back to hers when she finishes. We stay like that a while, laughing like little kids every time one of us has to splash to stay afloat.
It’s the happiest I’ve felt in a long time. Staring down a player with a bat has never given me this feeling.
Just her.
“You know the canoe has been floating away this whole time?” she asks me.
I wince and look around. Sure enough, the green canoe is a couple hundred feet away from us. I’d probably care less if I had any clothes on. Getting arrested for public indecency isn’t on the itinerary for this trip.
“I’ll race you,” Lennon challenges, following my gaze to the boat floating further and further away.
“Deal. Loser makes breakfast.”
Lennon doesn’t reply. She starts swimming at a much faster pace than I’m expecting. I’m a decent swimmer and in great shape, but I’ve got more bulk and muscle than she does, and it means I arrive at the canoe at least five seconds after her.
She grins when I grab the opposite end of the boat. “I’d like eggs and toast, please.”
“When did you get that good at swimming?” I ask, between heavy breaths.
“I did swim team in elementary school,” she replies.
“You did?”
“Uh-huh.” Lennon is studying the boat. “Should I get in first?”
“Uh, yeah. Hang on.” I swim to the opposite side, directly across from where she is. “Okay. Climb in.”
Lennon pulls herself over the rim of the boat and lands in a heap on the floor. Once she’s dressed, I tell her to lean to the right. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to counteract my weight.
I haul myself up and over the left side. The canoe doesn’t remain as steady as it did during Lennon’s return, sloshing side to side precariously, but it doesn’t capsize.
I pull on my shorts and hoodie, then grab the paddle to turn in the direction of Colt’s place. The sunshine warms my damp hair and wet clothes, but neither of us are dry by the time we reach the spot we started from.
Lennon helps me pull the canoe onto shore, and then we walk along the path back toward the house.
“This place is really nice,” she comments as we pass the four-car garage.
“Yeah, it is,” I agree.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Once, in high school. The four of us came up back in junior year.”
“What did you guys do?”
“Stupid stuff you do when you’re sixteen and there’s no parental supervision,” I reply.
Lennon rolls her eyes as we enter the house. Colt, Jake, and Luke are all in the kitchen. Colt is fiddling with the coffee maker, Luke is surveying the contents of the fridge, and Jake is slumped on one stool at the kitchen island, looking half-asleep.
“Morning, guys,” I greet.
My three best friends all look over, wearing matching expressions of confusion.
“We thought you two were still in bed,” Colt says.
“Why the hell are you all wet?” Jake asks. “ Again .”