Chapter 19 #4
I can tell he’s about to argue when I hear laughter from the boardwalk. Lucky for him, I don’t want anyone to see him hanging around outside. Not with the way these people gossip. “Get in here.”
He squeezes through the door, too big for the space. Too big to avoid. When we’re both inside I ask, “It’s been a long day, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
“You already said that once tonight. Try something new.” There’s only one small lamp on in the camper and it’s hard to make out his expression.
“I don’t, Summer. I don’t know what to do.” He grimaces. “I promised myself I’d never do this—get involved with someone who broke the rules. My rules about violence and cheating. That’s the reason I agreed to the Pact with the guys in the first place.”
“Are you really here to remind me of all the horrible things I’ve done? If so, I’m not really into that. I’d rather go back to bed than hear about why I ruined our relationship. Again.”
“Just,” he starts, resting his hands on both my shoulders, “listen. I need you to listen to me. You broke my cardinal rule, but you’re everything I ever wanted, right here, dropped in my small-ass town like a miracle. But…”
“I’m not perfect.”
He looks at the floor. “No one is…”
“I know that, but do you? Do you understand people make mistakes? That we do stupid things? That we deserve second chances? Because if you don’t, it doesn’t matter.
You’ll never find that person.” I stare at him hard so he understands my words.
“I cannot be that person. I’m flawed. The other guys seem to get it.
They accept that and are ready to grow up and move on to riskier things, like a real relationship.
But you and I both know it won’t work unless you’re in, too. ”
“I’m scared, Summer.”
“Yeah, and I am, too,” I tell him. I reach out to touch his cheek. “But you don’t have to be afraid of me.”
He presses his face into my palm. “What if I’m the one that hurts you?”
The truth in his words cut deep and to the core of the problem.
He’s not only worried about being cheated on, but being the cheater.
He’s never been in a real relationship. The Pact kept them from exploring that side of things.
I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “I think we have to trust that we’ll take care of one another. ”
“My dad was as bad as my mom. They destroyed one another.”
“It sounds like they had a lot of problems,” I say. “But look at Mom and Richard. They’ve been through the hurt and pain and have come out the other side. I think they both regret the time they wasted. I don’t want a lifetime of regrets. I have too many already.”
He nods. This serious side of Justin is new. Heartbreaking. But something I said must have resonated, because the air around him shifts.
“I want this,” he says, quietly. “I want you.”
“I do, too.”
“Seeing that bastard hurt you and watching you walk away was the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. When I was a kid I couldn’t control it, but this? I have a choice, and I choose you.”
His eyes hold mine and when he leans down and kisses me, I’m ready. We’ve laid everything bare, and I’m willing to take the consequences. It may be my only chance. His lips move to my neck, hot and eager, and I slide my hands around his back, touching the soft skin above his waist.
In the shadowy room, I fumble with the buttons on Justin’s shirt while he makes quick work of my tank and pushes my shorts to the ground. He’s fast, like most men, his desire dictating his speed. But I’m nervous and exposed, tripping over the shorts—bumping into the table.
“Ouch, crap,” I laugh, rubbing my hip. Justin steadies me—his hands warm against my body.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Very,” I promise. I kiss him again, tugging at his waistband. He hardly notices, too intent on exploring every inch of my body.
“Bed,” I demand, fumbling backwards. I reach back for the mattress and land with a soft thud. I want to feel him on top of me. Under me. “Inside,” I breathe out the instant he climbs on the bed. I can see his face better here, the light filtering through the tiny, odd-shaped window over my bed.
We’ve been tiptoeing around this moment all afternoon, ever since he walked into my shower and soaped up his body. A shiver runs down my spine as his fingers stroke my skin.
“Thank you for coming back,” he mumbles, pushing the sweat-slicked hair off my forehead. “Thank you for forgiving me.”
I nuzzle my face in his neck and kiss my way across his throat to the hollow of his collarbone. “Ocean Beach seems to be the place for second chances. I think we deserve one, too.”
He smiles, pressing his hips into mine. The weight shoots through me and my legs drop to the side, allowing his hard length to settle against me.
I smile back, feeling him and this moment, because everything about it feels right. He feels right. We feel right. This crazy trailer with the lapping waves of the waterway feels right.
“Are you ready?” he asks, as if there’s any doubt.
I nod and when he eases into my body, fulfilling my want and need for him to be inside, a sudden realization comes over me.
Not just the euphoria or relief from the mounting lust. I’d promised myself I’d repair the damage I’d done back at school and rebuild my life in this tiny camper by the sea.
I promised I would leave a different person when I left than when I arrived.
I brush the hair out of his eyes, feeling the roll of his hips against the pops and crackle of fireworks down the beach. Our relationship is cemented, our commitment understood.
Bobby had told me weeks ago that I’d never want to leave this place.
I had no idea then how right he would be.