Chapter Eleven
Camp Weonoke—years prior
“Somebody could hear us.”
Davis’s hands roamed over Sonny’s chest as the two hid behind an unused shed.
“Nobody will hear us. Now, will ya just kiss me again? I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day.”
She laughed before he sealed his lips to hers. He’d done that since the day they met—made her laugh. It was a dangerous weapon. One he now used to get her to agree to things she shouldn’t.
But all those “shouldn’ts” always felt too good to deny. Something she’d never admitted because he seemed to like it when he talked her into things.
It’s the chase, she thought. Boys like the girls who seem like a challenge.
“Your lip gloss tastes good.”
His compliments felt the same. It was the other reason she’d let him “talk” her into over-the-shirt action. Davis wanted her, and everyone else wanted Davis.
It was the first time someone had chosen her.
His hand slipped up her shirt, this time slowly, as if it were asking permission. She let it get to the underside of her breast before she said his name and pushed his hand away.
“Sonny,” he rushed out with a huff, then stepped back. “Everyone else is doing way more. We’re eighteen and in the middle of nowhere. Why not?”
She looked into his eyes, wondering if he’d love her. His face softened as he reached for a lock of her long hair.
“Come on. You can’t blame me for wanting you. You’re beautiful and easy to talk to.”
Davis stepped closer to her again, this time armed with a devilish grin.
“And you’re my girlfriend, so it’s natural.”
She smiled. She was his girlfriend. Davis had never said those words to her. Maybe he would love her.
But when he put his hand back on her waist, she held his wrist again.
“Those are just words, Davis.”
She wanted action. Proof of his love.
“Fine,” he huffed, then whipped out a pocketknife.
Her eyes grew as wide as his smile. He walked away. She followed him to a tree, where the sharp blade cut and sliced through the wood and sap until what was left made her feel warm inside.
“There. ‘Davis and Sonny, forever.’”
This time when he turned her around and pressed her back to that tree, she didn’t stop him. And when his hand tucked under her shirt, she didn’t push it down.
But what was most surprising was that she didn’t even stop him when the other boy, the one who stared at her all the time but never spoke, watched them from the tree line.
To mine,
I saw you. But you know that.
He’s too good for you. But you know that too.
—Yours