Chapter 30
CRUTCH
I’m an asshole.
And now, I’m a lunatic asshole.
I thought about it the entire drive back into town. I thought about it the entire time we kissed goodnight, leaning against her car in the school parking lot.
I was halfway home before I turned around.
And now, here I am, banging on her door in the middle of the night, like a straight-up lunatic. But I couldn’t wait another second, let alone wait until a reasonable hour. I want her with me. I need her with me. Now.
I hear rustling on the other side of the door. “Open up, Lulu. It’s me.”
She gasps. And doesn’t say anything.
I take a step back. Maybe I’m too close to the door and she can’t see me through the peephole. She should always check the peephole.
But still, the door doesn’t swing wide open.
What the hell?
“Lulu, I hear you. Open the door.”
“No.”
I take another step back and look at the door like it’s a talking spaceship. Like the word ‘no’ just came from the mahogany wood and not her mouth.
I lick my lips, not enjoying the joke. Where’s serious Lulu when you need her? “What do you mean no?”
“I mean no. I’m not letting you in.”
“And just why the hell not?”
“Because.” There’s more noise on the other side of the door, and it sounds like she bumps into a piece of furniture. Her whisper is louder than she intends for it to be. “Ouch, crap.”
My heart starts drumming in my chest at a faster beat. I don’t like this joke. My back starts to sweat, and my shirt instantly sticks to me. “That’s enough. Open the door, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
“No, Ry. Go home. We can talk tomorrow. It’s late.”
Something’s wrong. Something has to be really wrong. Is someone in there with her? Is someone hurting her?
My heart is beating so loudly now, I can hear it reverberate against my eardrums. “Lulu, you are starting to freak me out. I’m about to flip my shit, and I swear on all that’s holy, I will break down this damn door to get to you. Open. The. Fucking. Door.”
She grunts. Pissed. Frustrated. Hearing that actually calms me. Pissed Lulu can’t be Scared Lulu. Can’t be a Lulu who’s being held captive by some mass murderer on the other side of the door.
“I can’t let you in because I’m ready for bed. I’ve already washed my face. I have no makeup, no cute clothes, and my hair is messed up.”
I was not expecting that answer.
What am I supposed to do with that answer?
I do what I probably shouldn’t. I always do what I probably shouldn’t.
I burst out laughing. I laugh so hard I give myself a stitch in my side.
“Ryland Joseph Crutchfield, so help me, if you don’t stop laughing, I am gonna flip my crap . And it will make your outburst seem tame.”
I rub my hands over my eyes. “Are you serious, Lulu? You won’t let me in the house because you don’t have mascara on? I thought someone was in there trying to kill you.”
“Why would someone be in here? It’s the middle of the night.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Precisely.”
“Well, like I said, you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow when we see each other. Well, I guess I mean later today, since it’s so late.”
“I don’t care that you don’t have makeup on. Or normal clothes.” I chuckle. “In fact, all clothes are overrated. Strip down. Open the door. I need to tell you something.”
“You may not care, but I do.”
“Why?”
“I’ll ruin the illusion.”
I lean against the door. “What illusion?”
She does the same. The door thumps against the sag of her body. “Of being pretty.”
Holy. Shit.
Did My Lulu just say that?
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Ry, look at you. You know what you look like. Women basically throw their panties at you all day long. You’ve only seen me with makeup and nice clothes and fixed hair. Girls look different without that stuff. What if you think I don’t look pretty? I mean, guys hit on me, but guys hit on anything, right? It doesn’t necessarily mean I’m beautiful. Carrie is the pretty one, not me.”
The thought of other guys hitting on her sends me into a spiral of rage. Before spinning too far down, I try to focus on the problem in front of me. Or, rather, the problem behind the thick wooden door. “Lulu, I can’t believe that you would even fathom the possibility of me not being attracted to you. It’s… it’s… impossible. I can’t even think of the words to describe how unrealistic that comment is. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on, the most beautiful woman. Makeup. No makeup. Burned and scarred and disfigured… in my mind, in my heart, in my eyes, you’re the only thing of beauty in a world filled with ugly.”
Slowly, the door creaks open, one centimeter at a time. I rush inside, eager to have her in my arms. I slam the door closed with my foot. She’s standing in the shadows so I can’t even fully see her, but then she takes a step back. Her whole body is illuminated from the lamp on the side table between the couch and loveseat.
I try to swallow, but nothing happens. My throat is paralyzed with awe.
This is her. This is My Lulu.
Her glossy, golden brown hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun. Strands poke out in every direction. Her face is clean, washed fresh. Fucking perfection. Her honey and amber-colored eyes look brighter and darker all at the same time, driving me insane with the need to study them. The black ring around her iris shines like black diamonds. She’s wearing a hot pink sweatshirt, over an oversized T-shirt. The hem of the T-shirt grazes the tops of her thighs. The thighs I can’t get enough of. The thighs I lick with my tongue when I’m getting ready to go down on her, getting her ready to scream my name.
My gaze makes her nervous. She reaches around, fondling the scar on her neck.
“Oh, Lulu.” I hope she can hear it in my voice. Because I’m a pussy and can’t talk.
She does. She hears it. I know she does. Because she blushes and licks her lips.
I bite my own lip, raking my eyes over her again and again. “You’re beautiful.”
She holds her head up high, staring deeply into my eyes. “Thank you.”
I’m not sure how long I stare at her, but it’s probably long enough to make most people uncomfortable. But most people don’t have a Lulu to look at.
“What did you have to tell me?”
“Stay with me this week. It’s Spring Break. Neither of us have school. I still have work, but we can be together all day and all night. Stay with me.”
She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows. She smirks. I knew her sassiness couldn’t stay gone for that long. “That sounds like a statement when it should be a question.”
She’s busting my balls at a time like this?
“Will you stay the week with me, Lulu?”
She pretends to think. She pretends to mull it over. I know she’s going to say yes, but she still makes me sweat it. After an eternity, she takes a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Perfect. Go pack your shit. I’ll wait.”
Now it’s her time to burst out laughing. “Ry, it’s after two in the morning. This can’t wait until tomorrow?”
I close the distance between us, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck and threading my fingers through the tangle of hair escaping from her bun. “Do you wanna wait, Lulu?”
Well, that had more sexual connotation than I meant for it to, but hell, if she doesn’t swell her chest out, making my erection ache.
“No.” Her fingers graze across the top of my jeans, barely whispering across my scorching hot skin. “But it’s late. Let’s stay here tonight. I’ll pack up tomorrow and follow you. That way, I’ll have my car in case I need to come back to town for something.”
It’s settled then. We’re going to stay the night together. We’re going to stay the week together.
When I was little, I wanted to go to Disney World. I wanted to go so bad my little heart actually ached with longing. I eventually outgrew it, but the lingering wish stayed with me for years. That’s how I feel now. A lingering wish is finally coming true. And I’m not even talking about sex. I’m talking about having a life with someone.
Albeit just for a week.
“Come on.” Grabbing my hand, she pulls me behind her, into her bedroom. I pretend not to notice the tremble of her hand. Her comforter and sheets are already turned down, indicating that she was, in fact, in bed, or about to go to bed. I know because Lulu always makes her bed each morning. That’s what Carrie taught her to do, so that’s what she does. “Do you need a toothbrush?”
“I have one in the truck. I can go get it.”
“Don’t be silly. I have extra. You might as well keep one here.” She reaches into a drawer and grabs a handful of toothbrushes. She must buy in bulk. Tossing back the pinks and purples, she gives me a blue one, and we stand together at her sink, brushing our teeth.
When finished, she untangles her hair and starts to brush it. I meander across the threshold and stare at her bed. “Which side do you sleep on?”
“I sleep in the middle, usually, so I guess it doesn’t matter. What about you?”
I chuckle. “As you know, I either sleep on a twin bed or a blow-up mattress, so I’m pretty much in the middle too.”
“Well then, you choose.”
I slip out of my boots and socks. I tug off my T-shirt and toss it on the chair in the corner of her room. My belt buckle clangs together as I pull it from my belt loops. I plop down on the bed.
Sweet mother of pearl.
This bed is like laying in a swimming pool of clouds and cotton. The sheets smell like lavender and Lulu. One day I will have a bed like this. I’ll have sheets that smell like lavender. And I’ll be the one who gives it to Lulu. Not the other way around.
I prop up on my elbows and watch her as she emerges from the bathroom. She’s nervous. But she holds her head high, never breaking my gaze. In fact, her eyes widen in appreciation of the view, making my own nipples hard. She likes me being in her bed.
Well, get damn used to it, woman.
She pulls the sweatshirt over her head. When she does, her T-shirt gets hung in the bottom of the sweatshirt band and it rumples upward, revealing her light blue cotton panties. She’s left standing there in that big, oversized T-shirt.
It takes me a second to read the writing on the front.
A fraternity.
Lulu’s wearing some other man’s T-shirt.
I sit up straighter. “Whose fraternity T-shirt is that?”
She looks down at her ample chest. “Oh, it’s Caleb’s. He gave Carrie and me a bunch of extra T-shirts from his fraternity. The big ones that were leftover. Those guys all want skinny shirts to show off their muscles. Or lack thereof.”
I shake my head. Over my dead body will she wear another man’s clothes. I don’t care if he is like a brother to her. “Screw that. I’ll be right back.” I jump out of bed, not even bothering with my boots. That’s the good thing about not really having a house. You always have bags packed with clothes.
When I walk back in the bedroom, she’s still standing in the same spot. I toss one of my clean T-shirts from the body shop at her as I jump back on the bed. She smiles and lifts it to her nose, inhaling deeply. “Mmm.”
She stops my cold heart, cracking it open a little more. Damn if her every move doesn’t rip emotions from my locked vault, forcing them into broad daylight.
“I take it you don’t like me wearing another guy’s shirt?”
“Nope.”
She turns to head back into the bathroom to change, but then stops. She looks at the T-shirt in her hand and then her own body. Spinning back around, she lays my shirt on the bed and slowly lifts Caleb’s shirt from her body. Her arms lift high in the air, elongating her torso. She tosses it over her shoulder and stands there for a moment in nothing but her skimpy, light blue panties.
Has anyone ever died from a dick explosion?
Because it’s about to happen to me.
My Lulu may have a perfect little pussy, but her breasts sure are giving it a run for its money. They are large but not too large. Perfect handful size. The creamy skin matches down below. Together, they are three shades lighter than the rest of her bronzed body. Not that I can see her promised land now. But trust me, I have it memorized.
Her nipples are hard and erect, pointing in the air, like beacons of hope. Beacons of light, calling to me. The heavy slope of her breast angles against her torso in the most gorgeous of ways. Her stomach is flat with a slight curve to her love handles and hips, making me want to grab her and bite her.
And then… there’s her legs. My dumbass brother was right. Lulu’s legs are the fantasy of my wet dreams.
She grabs my gifted nightshirt off the bed and slowly slides it over her body. Turning off the lamp on her newfound side of the bed, she climbs onto the plush mattress. Folding her arms underneath her pillow, she stares at me. A small light filters in from the hallway, lighting her profile like an angel.
I’m worthless. I’m ruined for all of eternity.
Mimicking her movement, I lie down on my pillow. We’re so close our breath whispers across each other’s faces. I slowly graze my hand up her thigh, relishing every inch of her smooth velvety skin. My fingers settle against her hip, slowly kneading the plump skin where the curve of her ass starts.
My words are thick. “Go ahead and ask me. I know you want to.
“What?”
“Don’t beat around the bush, Lulu. I like you when you get to the point.”
“Are you gonna have sex with me tonight?”
I can’t believe I’m saying this. “No. Not tonight. You’re not ready.”
“How do you know I’m not ready?”
“Because I’m not ready.”
She gasps at the honesty of my words. And then she leans over and kisses me. She kisses me so intimately that I nearly forget those words because all I want to do is roll her over and slide into her until I’m buried to the hilt.
But I don’t. Because I’m really not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. Making love to Lulu will end in the complete and total consumption of my soul. I won’t even be a person anymore. I’ll just be a part of Lulu’s DNA.
“Are you really gonna sleep in your blue jeans?”
I look down at my own crotch. It’s like I’m trying to sleep with a sword between the two of us. She immediately giggles and blushes.
“I think my blue jeans are protecting us both tonight.”
She reaches over and tugs the elastic band of the red boxer briefs that peek out from the top of my jeans. It snaps against my abdomen, humming the already sensitive area. I push against her, non-verbally telling her to roll over. She quickly complies, and I pull the thick sheet and down comforter over our bodies.
I’m spooning with Luella Margaret Hill. Little Miss Prim and Proper. Bitchy rich girl with the missing sister.
And I’ve never been damn happier.