Chapter Eighteen Summer #3
Another short laugh slips from her lips. “Not at all. I love my job. If I could sit down with every single person and help them with their application, I would. I know how hard it is to stand out among thousands of others and how much it means to get that letter of acceptance.”
“You do?”
“I applied to twelve different colleges and got accepted to one. My last choice. Luckily for me it worked out, but I was devastated. I thought my life was over.”
“That’s how I would feel about not getting in at FLU.”
She studies me for a beat. “And Rowan?”
I glance back toward the kitchen, but he’s not back yet. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to see him to know there’s tension whenever someone asks about his plans.
“I’m not sure.”
She smiles as if that were a test to see if I’d pretend he wanted to go there as badly as I do.
“I’ll tell you what—send me your letter before you submit your application, and I’ll read it personally and see if I have any suggestions.”
“Really?” My chest lifts and expands as a weight lifts off. Her advice is everything. She’s seen hundreds of thousands. If she thinks it’s good, then I know I’ll have a shot.
“Yes, but I need you to remember that I’m only one opinion. I don’t make the final decisions alone. Ultimately it will be up to a committee vote.”
“I know, and I understand. I promise I won’t hold it against you if I don’t get in.” Though I might die a little inside.
She nods and turns to the door. With a glance over her shoulder, she steps out onto the front porch. “The same goes for Rowan. If he wants my help, have him email me at least a week before the deadline.”
“I’ll tell him. Thank you again.”
* * *
When Rowan is done helping his father, he leads me upstairs to his room. I try really hard not to compare mine to his, but it’s hard not to notice it’s twice the size.
“Your bed is huge,” I blurt out.
His lips pull up into a smirk that makes my stomach flip. He takes my hand and tugs me toward it, then flops down on top of it, taking me with him.
I squeal and giggle as I fall half on top of him.
“Your parents are going to think we’re up here hooking up.”
“Definitely,” he says. “My dad just had a very uncomfortable ‘don’t forget to be responsible’ talk with me.”
“No.” The blood drains from my face.
“Oh yeah. My dad thinks we are banging for sure.”
I groan and roll over onto my side, covering my eyes with both hands.
Rowan pries them away. He’s so close I can make out the small scar on the side of his face.
“What’s this from?” I reach out and touch it. His skin is warm and smooth.
“Skateboarding. I tried to do a trick, fell down some concrete stairs.”
“Ouch.”
My heart pounds quickly as the air between us feels thick and heavy. I don’t move, but I lift my left wrist to show him my own battle wound. “Silas threw a rock at me.”
“A rock?”
“We were three and four, and I think I threw the first one.”
“Antagonizing people from an early age,” he says with a small smile. Then he captures my wrist between his thumb and middle finger and brings it to his lips. He places a soft kiss on the spot, his stare not leaving mine.
I pull my arm back slowly and clutch it against my chest. My breaths come too fast, and my head is light.
“Thank you for tonight.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I should get home.”
His mouth lifts higher on one side like he knows I’m trying to run away. I don’t know what’s happening but putting distance between us feels like the most logical solution.
I don’t move.
Rowan reaches out and fingers a strand of my hair. He pulls gently and watches the curl bounce back in place. Then he frees my hair and glides his hand up and rests it against the side of my neck. I wonder if he can feel my pulse racing.
No one is here to see us. No one to convince we’re a couple. And still he’s touching me.
“This is a bad idea,” I say.
He nods, leaning closer. “Probably, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
His admission sends goose bumps racing up and down my arms, and my stomach flips around like I’m on a roller coaster.
I think of a dozen more protests, but I don’t say any of them as he guides his mouth down on top of mine. It’s a gentle crush of his lips to mine, then he lingers there, almost as if he’s waiting to see if I’m going to push him away. I don’t have that kind of willpower.
Whatever this is. Whatever we’re doing. It doesn’t matter. I can’t stop thinking about him either. I move only an inch, leaning toward him and pressing into the kiss. He lets out a small groan and then the hand at my neck pulls me harder against him and his mouth slants, more insistent this time.
Blood pounds in my ears and every nerve ending on my body comes alive.
His tongue sweeps in and he groans again.
The sound has heat pooling low in my stomach.
Every second, the kiss gets less tentative and more demanding until somehow our bodies are pressed flush against each other.
My hands press against his chest, lightly gripping the cotton material. He’s warm and hard under my touch.
“Summer.” My name is a tortured whisper as he pulls back and then dives right back in.
We kiss until my body is on fire and my lips feel swollen. His phone vibrates in his pocket. Once, then twice, then a third time. He doesn’t make any move to check it, but the reminder of the outside world breaks us apart.
A million thoughts race through my mind as we lie there, unmoving, eyes closed, hearts racing.
Rowan is the first to move.
“Well, shit.” He breathes out the words and rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
My thoughts exactly.