Chapter Thirty-Two #2
His chest rumbles with laughter. “Sorry. Look, I told you before, you can fall apart in front of me when you need to. I can take it.”
I sniff. “Okay.”
“You know what I can’t take? How small this bed is. I don’t even fit in it. It ends at my ankles.”
I smile, kiss his chest, and rest my cheek on it. “It did not affect your performance.”
His arms tighten around me. “Good.”
While I clean myself up and get dressed, Everett finishes tidying the kitchen to save me some time. We say goodbye at the front door with a lingering kiss, even though I’m late.
“Thanks for dinner,” he says.
“You’re welcome. Thanks for not running scared when I do weird things like cry when I’m happy.”
“You couldn’t scare me off if you tried.”
I chew my bottom lip. “I don’t know about that.”
“Listen. You stole my parking spot, you made my manly truck smell like orange blossoms, and—worst of all—last Monday, you cost me the top spot on the leaderboard at The Axe & Barrel.”
“How did I do that?”
“It was that voicemail you left me. It threw me off my game. But I’m still here. Want to know why?”
My heart is playing hopscotch in my chest, one beat here, two there, a skipped beat in between. “Why?”
“Because I like you. I really, really like you.” He slings an arm around my waist, pulling me close. “But you ever cost me the top spot again, Freckles, we’re going to have a talk.”
I’m late getting back to the hospital and rush in with an apology on my lips. But it turns out that my mother developed a low fever that afternoon and her doctors are a little worried. Her temperature came down to normal after a dose of Tylenol, but she won’t be released tonight.
She’s quiet and listless, but I sit in her room watching TV with her until she dozes off. When I’m confident she won’t wake up again tonight, I check the time on my phone—almost nine. Should I text Everett? See if he’s still up?
No, says a warning voice in my head, the one that always reminds me to wear sunscreen and a bike helmet and wait for the crosswalk signal to turn white before stepping off the curb.
Spending two nights in a row together is not friends-with-benefits behavior.
It’s desperate. It’s needy. It’s “I know what I said, but I have to be with you.” It’s beyond overzealous.
Sighing, I decide the voice is right. My body longs for him like it’s already addicted to his touch, but my brain overrides the system.
Reluctantly, I put my phone back in my bag and watch another couple of episodes of Friends. But I keep glancing down at it. Does he want me to reach out? Does he miss me like I miss him? Am I being obsessive?
Yes. Stop it.
I sit on my hands to prevent myself from texting him.
I figure if I wait long enough, it will be too late to message him.
He’s a farmer. He wakes with the sun. He needs his sleep.
And how much sex does one woman need anyway?
I’m already so sore that even Charmin Extra Soft feels like sandpaper. I have bruises. Scratches. Bite marks.
But I like them.
My leg jitters all the way through “The One Where Monica and Richard Are Just Friends.” I’m going out of my mind. I want him. I need him.
I should definitely not see him tonight.
Just after ten, I sneak out of my mom’s room and slip down the hall. Don’t do it. Leave your phone in your bag. It would be rude to text him at this hour.
As soon as the elevator doors close, I take my phone from my bag. There are multiple messages from him.
Nine o’clock:
Everett: I can’t stop thinking about you.
At nine-thirty:
Everett: Your taste is still on my tongue. What kind of magic is that?
Five minutes ago:
Everett: I’m still awake. Text me if you see this tonight.
Everett: This is me being overzealous.
My fingers are typing before my willpower can stop them.
Mila: Hey. Turns out my mom has to stay another night.
Everett: Is she okay?
Mila: Yes, she just had a low-grade fever. But they want to make sure there’s no infection.
Everett: Where are you now?
Mila: Just leaving the hospital.
Everett: Come over.
Mila: But it’s so late.
Everett: Come over.
Mila: I have to teach in the morning.
Everett: Come over.
Twenty minutes later, I’m on his porch. This time, he knew I was coming and must have watched for my headlights in the dark, because he pulls the door open before I can knock.
The moment it closes behind me, we kiss with a passion that feels like a fever. I jump up, wrapping my legs around his waist and taking his face in my hands. He puts my back against the door and leans into me, his hands gripping my thighs, his tongue lashing into my mouth.
I’ve never experienced desire like this before. My chest is full of exploding stars that shoot throughout my body, to my head, to my stomach, to the ends of my fingers and toes. Yearning for him swells at my core, a hunger that demands to be satisfied. A thirst that must be quenched.
“This thing with us,” he says, his words hot on my lips. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But I’m scared.”
He tips his forehead to mine. “Everything will be okay, I promise.”
“You don’t know that. No one can know that.”
“Then let’s just enjoy the moment.” His mouth moves down my neck. “We have the whole night together. We don’t even have to think about tomorrow.”
“But the thing about tomorrow…” I shiver as his tongue dips into the groove at the base of my throat. “Is that it always shows up.”