Chapter 20
We were kissing as though we’d never stopped, picking up without missing a beat. His hands slipped under my T-shirt to rest on my waist, warm against my bare skin. My arms were around his neck, pulling him as close to me as I could.
It was wonderful to be kissing him again—because now the nervous energy from back in Jesse was gone. This was a kiss that remembered everything that came before and promised what would come next. And even though it had only been twenty-four hours, I knew him now. I knew who he really was, in all senses of the phrase.
I’d met his family and his dogs. I’d seen him when he woke up in the morning. We’d had a terrible fight and had come out the other end. I’d told him my biggest fears and worries, shown him the worst side of myself, and he was still here.
All of that was there as we kissed—my canvas bag falling down at my feet, forgotten; his strong arms around me, lifting me up for just a second before returning me to the ground on legs that felt unsteady.
A sharp bark shook me out of this reverie, and I broke away from Russell and looked over to see my neighbor—and her beagle—walking back up the street. She gave me a nod, even though it looked like she was trying very hard not to smile.
“Um,” I said as I clasped my hands behind his neck and looked up at him. “Maybe we should…”
He smiled at me, his thumbs tracing circles on my waist. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”
Russell grabbed my tent and duffel, and we hurried up to the front door. I flashed for just a second to Wylie’s endless driveway and priceless art. But just for a second. It looked like my dad had forgotten to cancel the papers, and I scooped up copies of the Times—both New York and Los Angeles—and pulled my keys out of my bag.
I stepped inside and held the door open for Russell, who set down my things and pulled it closed behind him, and then we were kissing again, and I was lost in his lips and his hands and his arms around me. I started to walk backward toward the stairs, while also continuing to kiss him, but Russell pulled back. “Shoes-off house?”
“Oh,” I said, trying to focus. “Um—sure.” I kicked off my Birkenstocks, and Russell took off his sneakers by stepping on the backs of them. He then quickly stripped off his socks, rolled them together, and rested them in his empty left Nike.
He stood up and looked at me a little questioningly, and I just smiled at him and ran up the stairs, hearing him following right behind me.
The door to my room was ajar and as I walked inside, I was relieved that it wasn’t a gigantic disaster, and that I’d even made my bed.
“This is your room?” Russell asked, stepping in behind me.
“Uh-huh.” And even though I knew we were alone in the house, that my dad was stuck up in Fresno with car troubles, even though nobody else would be coming in, I closed the door.
Russell held on to my hand, his fingers drawing circles along the inside of my wrist, but all the while looking around, like he was drinking everything in, which seemed only fair. I’d had access to so much of his life, after all—now he was the one getting to see my front lawn, my house, my bedroom.
“Let me guess,” Russell said as he looked at the Polaroids stuck around my dresser mirror. He pointed at the one from the prom—me, Katy, and Didi, all of us looking in a slightly different direction, all of us laughing. He pointed at Katy. “Katy?”
I nodded.
“So that’s Didi.”
I smiled. “Very impressive. They’ll be incredibly pleased to hear you got it in one.” I reached over and picked the photo up. My hair had been blown out and put in a half updo, and Katy had spent almost on hour on my makeup. “This is what I look like when I actually have my hair done and makeup on.”
Russell shook his head as he looked at me. “You look beautiful.” He said it in such a steady, simple way, like there was no other answer.
My heart started to beat a little harder, a little more joyfully. He took my head in his hands and smoothed my hair back from my forehead. He traced his fingers under my jaw, like he was taking in every detail of me. “So beautiful.”
My instinct was to make a joke, or brush this off—but then I looked into his eyes and saw how much he meant it, and so I just let myself take it in. I stretched up to kiss him, and took my hand in his, pulling him with me until we tumbled back together onto my bed.