28. Then #2
Caleb grins and grabs my drink to refill it. “He’s just worried we might need someone to tell us what the Bible really thinks about homosexuals. You can never be reminded too often.”
I laugh. It’s kind of a revelation to be around people who say the wrong thing, who think the wrong thing and don’t feel bad about it.
In the Allens’ home, I’m the outlier, the one who doesn’t share their faith and doesn’t care the way I should.
Here, though, I have the potential to be almost… normal.
If only Danny saw it that way.
“Sweetie, you’d better slow down,” he says, walking over as I take a seat with my second margarita.
I slowly lower my glass. “Why?”
“I just don’t want you to do something you regret,” he answers.
I’m sick of being treated like I’m a child in need of guidance, the misguided girl from a bad home who still needs his help. He’s trying to protect me from myself, but maybe I’m not so evil that I need to be protected from myself. Maybe I’m just like everyone else.
As the night wears on, couples slip off to dark corners, or to the beach, and the drunks pass out in chairs or on the floor. I keep drinking, childishly defiant until I’m slurring my words and feeling like I just need a good cry. Only then do I go to the air mattress we’re sleeping on and pass out.
I wake in the middle of the night to find the house is dark and silent and the room is spinning, Danny’s arm draped over me, heavy and suffocating.
I’m still drunk, but my thoughts feel clearer than they ever have before.
Danny has no idea what I need, and he doesn’t care .
If I tell him I’d like to surf, he’ll say it’s not a good idea.
And if I say I want to dance, or drink, those won’t be good ideas either.
It’s as if the mere act of me wanting something for myself is enough to make it a bad idea, and I just need to get away.
I crawl from the room because I’m drunk enough that I suspect if I try to stand, I’m going to trip, which is exactly what happens the minute I enter the living room.
I wait and make sure the crash hasn’t woken anyone before venturing out the side door.
“Juliet,” Luke croons, his voice like hot syrup pouring over my skin, six-plus feet of warm muscle blocking my path. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Shhh,” I say, overloud. “I’m going swimming.”
He laughs. “It’s three a.m. Also, that water is cold as fuck.”
I keep walking. Now that I’ve decided to live my own life, I’m not allowing anyone, not even him, to stop me.
He walks alongside me. “Haven’t you ever seen Jaws? A hot girl swimming late at night—guaranteed great white attack.”
I frown at him. “Then go away so you won’t have to watch.”
“What’s gotten into you?” he asks. “Since when do you sneak out to swim late at night?”
“Oh my God,” I groan, running my hands through my hair. “You’re as bad as Danny. Jesus Christ. I’m almost nineteen, and I can’t even walk out of a vacation house without a million questions about my safety and motives!”
I’m too loud now, but we’re close enough to the beach that it’s drowned out by the crashing waves. I can see him clearly in the moonlight—his arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging, an amused smile on his face.
He’s laughing at me.
“Fuck you,” I say on an exhale and start walking again.
I go down to the shore. The water is so cold that it burns. There’s no way I’m going in. Another attempt at independence foiled. Inexplicably, I feel like I’m going to cry.
“Is this big and bad and dangerous enough for you, Jules?” Luke asks. His smile is a slight thing, belied by the misery in his eyes. He’s closer than I realized.
There’s a lump in my throat growing, and growing, so fast I can’t seem to make it stop.
It’s not about the fucking water. It’s simply as if this past miserable year has finally caught up with me, along with the miserable years preceding it.
The world has been crushing me a little more with each passing day, and I feel pinned under its weight.
That ache in my chest and throat gives way at last, not in quiet, subtle tears but huge rolling sobs that make my shoulders shake.
He pulls me against him. “Jules. Stop. It’s okay.”
His hand runs over my hair as he shushes me, then he pulls me back to the sand to sit beside him. “You remember what I said last summer, about you needing to be willing to leave the cage?”
I nod, still too upset to try to speak.
“It was what I thought the day we met. Watching you at the Allens’—it reminded me of this lady on our street who got a macaw.
You know—the big blue ones with all the feathers?
But she treated it like a little bird. She didn’t let it fly, she kept it in a small cage, fed it the same shit.
It started to lose its feathers, but she kept right on treating it like a regular bird until finally it died. ”
I look up at him through my tears, waiting.
“You’re the bird,” he says softly, his fingers brushing my mouth.
“You’re something wild and magnificent, and he has no idea how to take care of you, so he spends all his time making sure your cage is secure because he has no idea what else to do.
And that’s why this kills me, Juliet. Because I think I do know how to take care of you, and I want to take his place so bad that it fucking hurts to look at you sometimes. ”
My heart hammers, ready to burst.
His mouth lowers and I don’t stop him. His lips are soft, his skin is warm. A thrill starts deep in my gut and seeps through my bones. I’ve wanted this for a very long time, since it first happened last winter. Since the first day he walked into the diner.
I’ve wanted nothing but him for going on two years, and I can’t say no.
My mouth opens beneath his and he groans, pushing his fingers through my hair.
I slide my palms under his shirt and over his chest, the beautiful expanse of skin I’ve wanted to touch a million times and could not.
And now I am. It’s really happening and I can’t move fast enough.
He lays me back in the sand and pulls me against him so I can feel the effect this has on him.
He’s hard as a rock and he’s not ashamed of it or blaming me for it.
His eyes are bright, feverish, and he’s not ashamed of that either.
He wants this so much he’s going to combust, just like I am, and he thinks that’s a good thing.
His fingers slide lower, between my legs, beneath my loose shorts, inside me.
“Oh, fuck, Juliet,” he rasps. “You’re so ready.”
Is there a part of me that thinks I should stop him? Of course. But there’s a bigger part of me that knows I could no sooner stop this than I could stop a freight train or the planet’s orbit around the sun.
He doesn’t remove the shorts but continues to drag his fingers back and forth, dipping inside me, swirling around my clit.
It’s different than anything I’ve felt before, electric and raw.
His mouth is at my neck, his teeth sinking into my skin, his hand moving faster, and then out of nowhere I shatter, crying out, digging my nails into his arms.
I feel the hard press of his erection against my hip and reach for him blindly, sliding my hand beneath his waistband. He’s throbbing, so big my palm doesn’t quite wrap around him.
“Jules,” he groans, breathing heavy. It’s a question, one I answer by pulling him above me and pushing his shorts down.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He checks my face one more time before he tugs off my sleep shorts and lets his weight settle, his cock nudging between my legs. I shift just enough that he can push in.
Luke is careful. Agonizingly slow. Checking on me to make sure I’m okay. He stills for a moment, flinching, when he finally bottoms out, then captures my mouth, his tongue tangling with mine. I’m stretched tight but it’s perfect at the same time.
And the perfection of it is such a relief.
I don’t need to let my mind wander, the way I did with Justin and Danny. I’m not counting the seconds until it’s over. I want it to go on and on forever, just like this.
He grunts as he bottoms out again. “ Jules . Fuck.”
He moves faster, his breath rasping, his kisses desperate and savage as he tries not to come. And then, at last, he does, with three violent thrusts and a quiet gasp against my neck.
He collapses against me, and I never want him to pull out. I never want this to end but… oh my God, what am I going to do?
How do I face Danny in the morning after this?
Luke’s eyes open slowly. “Don’t.” He holds my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Don’t ruin this.”
I nod through my tears. I don’t want to ruin it either, I really don’t. But I’m not sure how we move on from here.
He rolls off me, and I sit up, still drunk…but also sober at the same time.
“I should go,” I whisper.
He sits up beside me and winds his fingers through mine. “Jules, you’ve got to end it with him. This thing with us has been there since the beginning, and it’s never going away. You know that.”
Except the pastor is sick and Donna needs me, and I’ve spent almost every penny I have, so even if I was willing to abandon the Allens, I’m not sure how I’d do it.
He kisses me and I try to let my answering kiss respond in kind.
I try to let my kiss say, “Luke, I love you so much I’m sick from it, so much that you’ve ruined my happiness, because no matter how good my life is I will always want you.
And I will always want you more than all the rest. But walking away isn’t nearly as easy as you think. ”
We walk back to the house in silence, my body light and heavy at the same time.
When I reach the bedroom, I crawl onto the air mattress and look at Danny’s face in the moonlight.
He’s so peaceful, so innocent. He trusts me, and I’m not sure what makes me feel worse: the fact that I cheated or that I might be the person who destroys that innocence.