This Summer #2
“I think I’m a bad kisser,” I say quietly. Will huffs, amused.
“What on earth makes you say that?”
I make a face. “No one calls me back after the kiss.”
Will looks thoughtful. “Jonah liked kissing you.”
“Yeah, well. Turned out, Jonah liked kissing everybody.” I suck my teeth bitterly.
“Fair point.” His face sours. “The prick.”
“Will,” I say, “I’m going to die an old spinster.”
“Oh, come on,” Will says. “You might die a young spinster.”
“Fantastic.”
Will sweeps his hand in the air. “Here lies dear Alex, alone and so sad; she died without love ’cause she kissed really bad.”
I cover my face with my hands, hiding my smile. “I hate you so much.”
“No, you don’t, you love me.” He pulls my hands from my face and meets my eyes. “And I’m sure you kiss fine.”
A coil of heat wraps me from where he touches my skin to the seat of my hips. That’s harder to kill than the butterfly in my belly.
“All evidence,” I rasp, “would point to the contrary.”
Will contemplates me for a moment before releasing me. He pulls back, stretching out like the Cheshire cat on a tree limb, quiet mischief in his eyes.
He makes a show of examining his nails. “You know, I could give you smoochin’ lessons.” Will hums. “Too bad you can’t afford me.”
The coil wrenches tighter around my stomach.
“Ha,” I say, my blood carbonating. “I don’t even get a family and friends discount?”
“Hey, even Meemaw buys me steak before she gets a kiss.” Will’s eyes dance, his Cheshire tail twitching.
“I got you Arby’s last week.”
“Excellent point.” He taps his chin. “Problem is, now that I think on it, no matter how scholarly it may be, any kissing between us means we’d no longer strictly be friends. Negates the discount.” Will’s impish smile is infuriating. “Conundrum.”
Will looks like we’re rock-paper-scissoring for the last pizza roll. I redouble my efforts to keep my face smooth as a blank page.
“Objection, Your Honor,” I say. “Said scenario would fit under the friends with benefits clause. The discount should still be honored for the lesson in contention.”
“The friends with benefits clause?” Will raises a brow.
“Maybe in your case, it’s jerk with a perk,” I sniff. Will laughs.
“I prefer the term crony with a bony, thank you,” he counters, and now we’re both laughing. “Don’t laugh, that’s awful.” He winces. “In fact, it’s such an awful phrase that I’m sad we’ll never get to use it.”
My laughter dies.
“Never?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Why not?” Will blinks, faltering for half a second before he quickly rallies.
“You’re joking, right?” He snorts. “I know you, Reyes. You’d never be down for that kind of deal.”
“Oh, and you would?” I say.
Will shrugs. “I mean, sure, I definitely wouldn’t hate it—”
“Well, guess you don’t know me so well after all, Gray, ’cause neither would I.” It’s a fight to keep my breath even.
It takes Will a second longer to respond this time.
“Oh, come on.” Uncertainty edges his smile. “Be serious.”
“I am being serious.”
Any hint of bravado vanishes from Will’s face. He blinks down at me, shocked to muteness.
Outside, there is a faint rumble of summer thunder.
“You’re serious,” Will says in a low voice.
“Only if you are.” There’s another slow roll of thunder.
“So, right now.” Will narrows his eyes. “You’d be fine if I kissed you?”
I lick my lips, feeling shivery. “How else am I gonna make sure I don’t die alone?”
Rain starts, slow and infrequent drops sounding like tiny pebbles bouncing off the window in his room. There’s a flash of lightning. For a moment, Will’s wide blue eyes ignite, and I can see a faint blush on his high cheekbones. By the time the loud, rumbling thunder follows, he’s smirking again.
“Do you know what I think?” Will whispers. “I think you’re all talk, Alex.” He clicks his tongue. “I think you’re too chicken to ever—”
A surge of indignation sweeps through me. I clamber to my knees so we’re eye level, and I lean close, bringing my lips inches from his. Will freezes.
“You know, Will?” I hiss. “I think you’re too chicken.”
We’re so close, the heat of his mouth warms mine. I dig my nails into my sweaty palms. He smells woodsy and perfect, like always. Will lets out a small, shaky exhale. His breath tastes like peppermint, and I ache. I ache to taste him, to touch him.
But he’s not moving, so neither do I.
The rain picks up. Will’s room is thick with heat, little to do with the weather, and the only sounds are water drops pelting glass and our increasingly rapid breaths.
Thunder thrums, loud enough to shake the windowpanes, and I wait. I wait and wait—but Will does not move or speak.
I pull back—Will’s eyes are squeezed shut, his brow furrowed, like he’s conflicted. Like he’s torn. Like, maybe, maybe he doesn’t actually want this and doesn’t want to humiliate me.
The next crack of thunder is the sound of my heart splitting.
“Forget it,” I whisper, leaning back.
I start to stumble to my feet.
Will’s eyes blink open.
“Wait.” His voice is low. Rough.
“For what?”
“Alex.” Will scrambles to his knees. He snatches the front of my shirt, pulling me to him with both hands.
And suddenly, he’s kissing me.
A hot press of his mouth, and I can feel how his hands tremble against my chest, where he’s fisting the cotton.
Will’s lips surprise me with their softness, plush as an overripe peach warmed in the sun.
He moves his mouth carefully against mine, shy almost, and I start to shake.
The slow, tentative press of his mouth has me terrified that this is all he’ll ever give me, a few cautious kisses to whet my appetite and leave me starving forever.
But then he swipes my bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, and I make a high, needy sound. Will must like it a lot, because he makes his own rough noise before he chases mine, angling his head to deepen his kisses that are now coming faster and faster as he starts to lose control.
It’s everything I’ve wanted. I kiss him back, moving my mouth frantically against his.
But then he breaks it off. I cry out, despairing.
“This okay?” Will rasps. He presses his forehead against mine, panting.
“It was until you stopped.” I lean forward and drag my lips against his smooth jaw.
Will’s breath hitches, and his hands slip into my hair.
I nip at the tender skin beneath his ear, and he makes a tortured sound.
I trail open-mouthed kisses down his neck, feel him swallow as I catch the salt of his sweat on my tongue like I’ve been wanting to for years.
Will’s pulse tastes briny and restless like the sea.
He groans. “You’re making it a little difficult to keep it just a kiss.”
God.
The storm roars around us, the rain making a waterfall against the window. I slip a hand beneath Will’s shirt, feeling his gasp as I press my palm against the plane of his stomach like I’m taking an oath.
“In that case…” I lean up, and he shivers against me as I trace the perfect curve of his ear with my tongue. “I won’t make it difficult. I’ll make it impossible.”
“Christ, Alex.” Will surges forward to attack my mouth with his, and the ache inside me goes infernal, scattering fire through all my limbs.
“I thought it’d be like this,” he says, tugging me to the bed.
I can’t help the whimper that escapes me. “You’ve thought about this?”
He raises his head, and there’s something churning beneath the hungry sheen of his pupils that I cannot place.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “So many times.”
Outside, the sky howls.
Last Summer
On the night of a late-summer full moon, Will and I go to a carnival on the outskirts of the city. The Ferris wheel groans with each revolution, and the popcorn is stale, but Will is holding my hand in public for the first time, so everything is magic.
Our “summer of meaningless fun” has turned into a “year of meaningless fun.” I know it can’t last. But right now, his body is against mine, and I will take it.
Because it’s Will Gray, and if this is the only way to have him, then so be it.
But then we pass a fortune teller who promises to tell you the name of your soulmate.
“Soulmates are ridiculous,” Will says.
“What?” I stop walking, embarrassed at how his words slice through me.
“Aw, Alex.” Will winces. “It’s just…a one-in-eight-billion chance to find your person? You’d doom humanity to a loveless fate like that?”
“You don’t—”
“Young man!” interrupts a guy from the balloon dart stall. “You look strong. Come win your girlfriend one of these giant teddy bears!”
Will drops my hand. “Maybe next time,” he calls, starting to walk fast.
“Whoa,” says the ring toss attendant. “My dude, her arms are empty. You’re not gonna win your lady anything tonight?”
“Not my girlfriend,” Will says. “Just friends.”
I asked for this, I tell myself, even as his words field-dress me. I’m not allowed to be upset.
“Hey, are you all right?” Will says when he sees my face.
“I’m fine,” I say, mustering a wan smile for him. “I think the boiled peanuts hurt my stomach.”
“I’ll get you a ginger ale,” Will says. The worry on his face makes him look dashing, but all it does is remind me that my heart lives on borrowed time.
It’s 3:00 a.m., and I cannot sleep.
“Alex?” Will mumbles. “ ’S wrong?”
I wipe my nose and eyes, staring resolutely at the ceiling.
“How about you tell me?” I say, an edge to my voice. “What’s wrong with me?”
“What?” Will rubs his brow, turns over to face me. He blinks several times.
“I’m good enough to be your best friend. Good enough to sleep with, shower with, kiss, spend hours just—”
“Whoa, wait, what?” Will sits up.
“But not good enough to be called your girlfriend even just pretend to a rando running a shitty carnival game at a parking lot fair.”
“Wow. What the hell, Alex?” Will’s hair is messy from sleep, and the sheet falls away from his bare chest. I pull the blanket up to my chin and turn my back to him. “Where is this coming from?”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper, tears soaking the pillow. “Am I not charming enough? Classy enough? Pretty enough?”
“Jesus Christ, don’t say shit like that. Of course none of that’s true.”