CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jamie – Eleven Years Ago
This is the hug I’ve been waiting for.
Avi feels soft in my arms as I wrap them around her.
This year apart felt harder than the rest have.
Maybe because I’ve played that kiss—the one that should never have happened, the one that lasted less than five seconds—on a loop in my head since.
Not a single other kiss in the interim has lived up to it.
Not a single date with another girl has given me the rush I feel whenever I’m with Avi.
This hug… This hug is exactly what I needed after months of nothing but the occasional email about school, friends, and our everyday lives.
Which really aren’t that exciting. I know she broke up with Ian not long after she got back to Glasgow last summer, but that was the only mention she’s made of anything to do with boyfriends.
I don’t know if she told me about their breakup to make me feel better or worse about kissing her.
But that all falls away in an instant once she’s in my arms. I press my nose into her blonde waves and breathe her in. The floral scent of her shampoo mixed with a new perfume she’s never worn before makes me lean in farther, wanting more.
Too soon she pulls back, but her arms that were wound tight around my lower back don’t fully pull away. Instead, she rests her hands on my hips and I feel each and every one of her fingers through my T-shirt.
“Hi,” she breathes.
“Hi,” I say, crushing her to me in another hug.
It’s not until a throat clears nearby that I remember we aren’t alone.
Her parents and grandparents are standing nearby watching our reunion.
They all know we’re friends and how much we look forward to these summers together, but I think even they realize something is different now.
Maybe it’s because we’re seventeen and nearer to adulthood than childhood.
Or maybe it’s just a recognition of whatever it is that pulls me and Avi together even after months apart…
We fully separate and I register the deep blush across Avi’s cheeks. They’re a vibrant red, and if I had to guess, mine match them.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart. Good to see you.” I step around Avi to extend my hand to her dad before her mum draws me into a brief hug.
“You too, dear. Your flight over was good then?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am. Arrived a few days ago.”
And a tortuous few days it’s been too. It’s always harder to be here without Avi, even if just for a little while.
Over the last few summers, so much of this place has become tangled up in our friendship that I can’t seem to separate the two.
I, of course, love being with my grandparents and seeing other friends too—though that’s become less frequent with each trip—but it’s like Cluaran belongs to me and Avi.
“Good. Well, as usual, I’m sure you’ll keep an eye on our Avonlea for us,” her dad says.
“Always.”
I glance sideways and Avi rolls her eyes, but a smile ghosts her lips.
Her grandmother, though, purses hers and gives me a knowing look, like she doesn’t appreciate whatever this difference is this year at all.
Like she knows how badly I wish I could kiss Avi right here, right now. I clear my throat and glance away.
“We’ll get your stuff unloaded. Dinner with us tonight, please,” Mrs. Stewart says to Avi. They usually only ever stay one night when they drive up to drop off or pick up Avi, so I understand them wanting one more dinner together before they go six weeks without her.
She nods and then squeaks in surprise when I grab her hand and pull her off toward the inn’s garden.
If I only get her for a few hours today, I’m going to make the most of them.
Her laugh rings out behind me as I drag her through the hedge.
The one I meticulously trimmed yesterday in preparation for the amount of time we’ll spend going back and forth between the T&T and the farm.
“What’s the big rush, Jameson?” she says with a lilting giggle that hits me square in the chest. If warmth had a voice, it would be her laugh. That sound lights me up. It makes me melt.
“I want to show you something.” I keep tugging her hand, savoring the feel of it in mine, and it reminds me of that first day we met. When I pulled her through the gardens to the same spot I’m leading her to now. Today will hopefully not end in muddy clothes though.
When we’re almost to the arch that will take us to the private garden, I turn toward her, blocking her view.
“Close your eyes.”
She narrows them at me instead, but with a huff of air, her eyelashes flutter and she complies. I grab both her hands in mine, walking backward until we’re right where I want us to be. “Keep them closed,” I say, and release her hands to walk around behind her.
Leaning down to close the gap in our heights, which has become even more pronounced this year, I slide my hands onto her waist and let my lips ghost against her ear when I say, “Open.”
A tremor runs down her spine and I feel triumphant at the reaction to my touch.
But then she gasps and whirls to look at me, eyes alight.
Because instead of the old tire swing we loved as kids—that was barely hanging on by its threadbare ropes and was unlikely to hold my weight for one more summer—there’s a beautiful wooden bench swing. One that’s big enough for two.
“What happened to the tire swing?” she asks, reaching for my hand and pulling me farther into the garden.
“It swung itself into early retirement during a storm, according to Grandad,” I say, taking in her reaction, her excitement. I’m glad she’s not disappointed in the change.
“It did indeed.” Grandad’s voice booms from where he stands in the kitchen door, watching us. “And I felt like maybe a more grown-up option that could actually fit you both might be better.”
Avi beams and runs over to give him a hug. “It’s good to see you, Angus,” she says. She tried calling him Mr. Murray once, that very first summer, and he quickly set her straight. “It’s a beautiful swing.”
“It is, isn’t it?” This time it’s Gran who’s come in behind Grandad, a whole big Murray family reunion, with Avi in the middle. “It’s actually become a bit of a favorite spot for me and Angus too, so just know you won’t be the only ones vying for time out here.”
Avi laughs and envelops Gran. She didn’t even hug her own grandparents this enthusiastically when she arrived, but they’ve never had the same close relationship with Avi as mine have. They’re just different.
“We’ll let you two have it this afternoon though.
I imagine you’ve got some catching up to do.
We’ll see you for dinner, Jameson.” Grandad nods at me and there’s a warning in his eyes.
We had a whole talk last night—much to my embarrassment and chagrin—about how Avi and I are getting older and I need to ensure I’m being respectful of her as her friend.
“Aye. See you for dinner.” I give him a nod in return. I know they can see out to the swing from the window, just like they’ve been able to every summer since Avi started coming here, so nothing is going to be happening here… “Should—” I begin, turning to Avi.
Before I can even finish my sentence, Avi rushes for the swing. The soft cushions that Gran made make it almost like a couch, and she curls up on one end, eyes expectant as she watches me move toward her.
I take up the space opposite her, leaving a respectable amount of distance between us.
I have ideas of what I’d like to see happen this summer, but it’s just that: for the summer.
I don’t want to do anything that might make Avi uncomfortable or that will ruin our friendship.
That’s not something I can live with either.
She kicks her shoes off and extends her legs toward me until her feet press against my thigh. My body goes tight with just that small touch.
“Truth?” I ask with a quirk of my lips.
“Anything you wanna know,” she says.
“Boyfriend?” I don’t need to elaborate beyond that.
She shakes her head, a shy smile and a blush on her face “No. You?”
“No boyfriends for me either,” I deadpan.
She giggles and kicks me gently with her foot. I bark out a laugh.
“Stop, you know what I meant.” She rolls her eyes, but her grin only widens.
I grab her foot, and instead of letting go, I slide my hand up to rest on the smooth skin of her shin. Her intake of breath makes her chest rise, my eyes falling there for a second too long.
“No, Avi, no girlfriends either.”
She nods with approval and bites her bottom lip.
She takes in the garden, avoiding my gaze, and I take her in.
Her hair is longer, like she hasn’t cut it all year.
I don’t think she’s cut it much at all since that summer when we were fifteen.
It reaches halfway down her back in waves now—though most of it is pulled over her shoulder to fan across her chest. She’s wearing a tight tank top under a flannel with cutoff denim shorts.
Shorts that cover very little of her long, shapely legs.
I force my eyes back to her face and find hers on me as well.
The freckles that smatter across her pale skin stand out more when she’s flushed, and her brown irises dance with interest at my perusal.
Her lips are a soft pink and I’m tempted to press mine there to see if they feel as silky as they look, if they taste as good as they did last year.
“Jamie…” she says with barely a whisper.
“Avi…” I husk in return.
She wets her lips. “Truth?”
“Always.” I shift closer on the bench seat, bringing her legs across my lap—letting my hands linger on her calves, thumbs moving in gentle circles against her skin.
“Do you want to kiss me again?” she asks, and I’ve never heard her voice like this. It’s like a dream, quiet but perfectly clear.
I don’t hesitate, even for a second, before repeating, “Always.”
She ducks her head, mouth turned up on one side. When I reach out to lift her chin, she worries her bottom lip with her teeth again and I want to groan at what that look does to me.
“Truth?” I ask, my eyes homed in on that lip, on her teeth pressing into it, on the deepening color. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
God. Please say yes.
There’s nothing but brazen confidence in her expression when she says, “Always.”
I tighten my hand on her leg and glance toward the window into the kitchen… Anyone could see us from here. I can’t kiss her now. No matter how much I may want to.
“Want to go for a walk?” I ask, my meaning clear. When her hand slips into mine, our fingers twining, I feel a zing of anticipation. My heart rate goes haywire, like the organ might actually burst from my chest.
We don’t have to walk far, and we don’t say anything while we do.
The tension between us grows thicker with each passing step, with every flirtatious glance, with every swipe of my thumb over her hand.
The loch stretches out before us in no time and the point that juts out into it looms ever closer.
It’s a secluded spot with trees and rocks obscuring the shoreline from view of the surrounding village.
It’s a place we’ve come to swim on particularly hot days, a place where we can just be. Quiet. Private.
Perfect.
This is it. My chance to finally kiss her, to finally have her how I’ve wanted for years, but my head says we need to set some boundaries. I don’t want to ruin what we have.
I slip a hand onto her waist, under the flannel, and her abdominal muscles tighten beneath my fingers.
“Avi… I don’t… This is just for the summer. We both know that, right?”
Her gaze blazes a trail across my face, down my chest and back up, and I feel that look like a brand on my skin.
“It’s just kissing. We can kiss for the summer,” she responds with an emphatic nod.
I catch her chin with my thumb and forefinger and her tongue darts out, swiping across her lips. Jesus, that’s hot.
“Just for the summer. Just kissing. We’re still best friends at the end,” I say in a rush, and then crash my mouth over hers.
Finally, I get a taste of what I’ve truly been missing with her all these summers.