19. Chapter 19 #2
I cook while Lennon freshens up. When he emerges, his eyes are far less red, and as he folds me into a tight hug, he’s back to smelling like big blue skies.
We eat and chat. I’m careful not to bring up his parents or his state when he came back to the apartment.
He’ll talk when he’s ready. But when we’re standing outside my bedroom door and he hasn’t once brought it up, I can’t help but wonder if he’s pulling away from me like he did when we were kids.
It feels particularly cruel, when I’ve finally gotten a taste of him, to stare down a life where I can’t do it again.
We spend a few moments silently studying each other, perhaps each waiting for the other to make a move. Eventually, he leans in to kiss my cheek, then disappears into his bedroom. I get ready for bed, then spend a good hour or so tossing and turning, unable to quiet my mind enough to settle.
My door opens, and Lennon’s dark silhouette fills the doorway. “Can I…” He trails off, and even in the sliver of light coming through the curtains, I can see his biceps rippling as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I understand if you want to sleep.”
“I’m not sleeping.” I scoot over to make space for him and fold the comforter back. He wastes no time climbing in and looping his arm around me, drawing me close to his side. I rest my cheek in the crook of his shoulder, half on his chest so I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath me.
“I don’t want to be alone,” he says into the air between us.
“I’m here.” I squeeze impossibly closer to him. “I’m always here.”
He bends his neck so he can kiss the top of my head. “I know.” He’s silent for a moment before he continues, “I still get so anxious about them when they show up like that.”
“And when they leave,” I suggest gently.
He nods. “It’s stupid. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I insist, not wanting to let on that I was also a little surprised at his reaction to them earlier.
He’d be ashamed if I admitted that, and that’s the last thing he needs.
“You were a kid when they would randomly disappear. Makes sense those feelings would come back up when you’re reminded of them. ”
“I should never have stopped seeing my therapist,” he mutters. “I thought I had some ways to work through that anxiety, but seeing them here with you…”
He doesn’t finish that sentence, so I say, “I don’t want to make it worse for you by being here.”
His arm tightens around my shoulders. His other hand lands on my chin, tilting it up so his lips can meet mine. “You only make things better, Songbird.” He kisses me again, as if once weren’t enough. “Seeing you and them together brought up some shit I regret.”
“Like what?”
“Like getting stoned instead of telling you how I felt back in high school.”
“Hmm,” I hum. “So you went and got stoned again instead of telling me how you feel?”
“It’s not a perfect system,” he jokes. He scrubs his free hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I wanted to feel something different while I sorted out whatever was going on in my head.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me. I don’t have a problem with weed, Lennon. You’re acting like I’ve never smoked and you’re ruining my virginal sensibilities by coming home high.”
He peers down at me in the darkness, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. “We’re going to come back to that piece of information.”
I lightly smack his chest. “I have no doubt. But I need you to understand that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ve got twenty-five years of friendship to prove it.”
He faces the ceiling again, and my head rises and falls on his chest as he sighs deeply. “But you are leaving,” he whispers, almost as if he can’t bear to say it aloud.
Guilt crashes into me like a wrecking ball, because he’s right.
I am. And until now I hadn’t thought past the next kiss and the ache to have his body next to mine.
I know he didn’t mean it to make me feel bad.
And I know he knows me going back to Michigan isn’t the same as his parents coming and going on a whim.
Though in the haze of his anxiety, that probably doesn’t matter as much as the sheer fact that I’m physically here now and in a few weeks, I won’t be.
“Come back with me.” I hadn’t thought about it before, but I’m suddenly desperate to have him there. To make him coffee and share breakfast before I head off to teach my classes, to kiss him deeply when I come home.
As if he can read my mind, he kisses me. It’s long and languid, and our tongues tease each other. “The only thing good about that place is you,” he says into my lips.
I pull back as the unspoken end of that sentence hits me: And that’s not enough .
I blink a few times against a rising tide of uncertainty. I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. He just loves it here. He always has. And I can’t blame him; I love it here, too.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say with much more certainty than I feel. “Unless…” I trail off, the suggestion almost too painful to give voice to. “Unless you don’t want to try?”
Lennon rolls out so he’s on his side, facing me.
Our heads rest on the same pillow, our noses almost touching.
His breath smells like minty toothpaste and a lingering earthiness that isn’t at all unpleasant.
“I thought about that,” he admits. “While I was out today. I figured it’d probably be easier for both of us if we cut our losses and walked away before one or both of our hearts got really broken. ”
My stomach bottoms out, and I chew at my bottom lip. “Oh,” I say, and I can’t keep the disappointment from dripping from the word.
Lennon tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and tilts my chin so I have to look at him.
The sliver of light from behind the curtains casts a silvery glow over his features.
His eyes are warm, and they crinkle at the edges.
“And then I got back here and saw you and your notes all spread out on the floor, taking over my life and my space. You’re so fucking beautiful, Lark.
I want you to take over. I want you in every way, in every aspect of my life. ” He smirks. “Fuck easy.”
A relieved laugh bubbles out of me, too loud in the quiet night. “Fuck easy,” I repeat.
He leans in and catches my nervous laughter with a kiss. This one is different than the others, at once more intense and more caring. I open for him, letting him taste me, swallowing his moans and soaking up the soft noises he makes.
His hands land on my hips, the warmth of them seeping through my pajama shorts. He hooks my leg over his hip and pulls me closer to him. My nipples pebble under my shirt as he squeezes me into his chest.
“Can I…” His hand gently grazes the underside of my breast.
I arch into him. “Yes,” I breathe, and in a beat, his hand cups the swell of it. Our eyes meet in the dark. We can both sense it, being on the edge of something new. The air between us is charged with need, the ache of it a physical, tangible thing.
And then, because I can’t hold back any longer, I push him onto his back and climb on top of him as he watches me, his jaw slack and his eyes sparkling, in the second before I jump in and lose myself in his body.