Chapter Twenty-One
Kennedy
Sometimes being an only child is the best. For example, right now, I’m spread out in the backseat all by myself, unbothered and uncramped, while we’re on the way to Will’s family cabin in the upper peninsula for our annual post-Christmas getaway.
Will: I can’t wait to see you
Will: They’re all gone :(
His message is followed with a shirtless mirror selfie showcasing his delicious chest and muscular abs and not a single mark on his skin to be seen.
Kennedy: Don’t worry, you’ll have more by tomorrow
Will: that literally gave me a boner
We text back and forth for the next several hours until my dad finally turns down the mile long driveway to their cabin. Lucy and Paul rush out the front door when we park to greet us with hugs. I leave my bag in the trunk, knowing my dad or Paul will carry it in for me eventually and head inside.
The house is very quiet inside, and I’m a little disappointed when Will isn’t waiting for me inside the front door. Neither is Miranda. I wander up the stairs and into Miranda’s usual room. Her stuff is in there, a suitcase tucked along the wall by an unmade bed, but no Miranda.
I open the door to the room next to hers, the room I always take, and find it to be identical to how I remember: ginormous bed in the middle of the room, so big it takes up the majority of the walking space and requires sideways shimmying along the sides to move about, a beautiful wooden bedframe, and the fluffiest most cloud-like deep emerald green duvet I’ve ever seen.
And a sexy hockey player laying sideways on the bed holding up a printed out picture of a mistletoe above his head.
Will is off the bed and picking me up in an instant, crashing his lips to mine, hungry and frantic. “I. Missed. You. So. Much,” he says, punctuating each word with a kiss somewhere on my face.
“I missed you too.”
He sets me down allowing me to unzip my winter coat and toss it on top of my bed.
I’m feeling much less strangled without that huge thing on.
I kick off my boots, tossing them into the corner of the room before turning toward him again.
“We should probably head down stairs. My dad’ll be bringing up my suitcase any minute. ”
He deflates just a little, “Fine. But I’m sneaking in here tonight.”
I tap his chest with my palm, “Deal.”
Will leaves my room first and I follow a few seconds later, just in case anyone is in the hall.
Miranda comes out of the golf simulator room after she hears my dad’s boisterous voice and heavy stomps, greeting me with a giant hug.
Thirty minutes later, Miranda and I are in the hot tub out back while the parents are getting started on dinner and Will is…
somewhere. I’m not exactly sure where Will is.
I wear the one piece I stole from Miranda a few months ago for the pool party, feeling much less self conscious now than I did then.
The swimsuit is very cheeky and shows off a considerable amount of ass and cleavage, but it covers my stomach and the padding is sewn in, keeping my nipple piercings from being obvious.
We chat about Christmas–I got a new Polene bag and she got a new putter. The two of us stay out there talking and catching up for about an hour before Paul gives us the fifteen minute warning for dinner.
Even though the snow’s been cleared off the back porch, my toes are so cold they’re burning by the time I make it inside.
I change out of my wet swim suit and into leggings and Will’s oversized hoodie as fast as I can before heading back downstairs to the table.
I take the empty seat next to Will, enjoying the secret between us when his gaze locks on the logo of the hoodie I’m wearing.
Dinner is the usual affair of lasagna and garlic bread.
Under the table Will bumps my foot with his until we're hooking ankles together like we’re fourteen. For desert we have an apple pie.
After pie we all move into the living room for Paul’s birthday presents. Will comes out of the garage with a big sheet over something giant between his hands and sets it down in front of his dad. “So this is from both of us.”
“Happy birthday, dad,” Miranda says, standing next to Will as Paul inspects the mysterious object before him.
“We didn’t know how to wrap it.”
Paul ignores him, standing up and whipping the sheet off to reveal a new golf bag. Paul gasps with shock, hugging both Will and Miranda at the same time. “I have the best kids,” he says, into the top of Miranda’s head.
“Okay, mine next.” I hand him a small gift bag, excited because I’ve been working on this for a few weeks. He carefully removes the white tissue paper from the top of the bag and pulls out the green crochet club cover I made him.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, not fair that he gets another one before me, Ken,” my dad interrupts.
Miranda tries to snatch the cover from Paul, “I agree! I don’t have a complete set–”
“I don’t even have one!” Will adds on.
Paul scrunches his eyebrows and purses his lips in disbelief while Miranda makes a fist, thumb sticking out and pointing to Will. “Get a load of this guy. He doesn’t even golf.”
“I’d use a blade cover for my stick.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
“I would if she made it for me.”
“You’re full of shit,” she says.
“Language!” both moms say at the same time.
“Yeah Miranda, language.”
Paul shakes his head rolling his eyes at the two of them before giving me a very fatherly side hug.
“Thanks honey.” Miranda continues making her point about why Will doesn’t deserve a crochet blade cover before she has a complete set for her clubs.
This is getting ridiculous. I interrupt, “I’ll make you both one for your birthday.
” That seems to quell the two of them enough for my parents, aka my dad, to give Paul some fancy cigars that they immediately head onto the back porch to smoke.
We spend the next few hours playing gin rummy with my mom kicking our asses. “Losers!” my mom taunts after her third win in a row. I really did inherit the craziest competitiveness from her.
I start fake yawning around 9:30, sharing a look with Will the first time I claim to be exceptionally tired this evening.
By 10:15, I announce, “I think I’m going to go to bed,” then stand up from the table.
“Me too,” my mom agrees, patting my dad on the back.
I head upstairs first, letting the rest of them linger a while while putting away the cards and placing the pie back in the fridge.
Will: make sure your door is unlocked
Nervous excitement moves through me as I get ready for bed.
Putting on cute pajamas before turning off the lights and getting under the covers.
With the lights off, it's dark in here. We’re in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest big city, with zero light pollution and only a tiny sliver of a moon to offer any illumination.
When the hallway light turns off and the yellow glow from under the door is gone, the inky black of night coats the room.
An hour later, the sound of my door creaking open and then closed is followed by a very dim light, presumably from a phone screen, appearing at the foot of my bed.
Then I hear the small snick of the lock being depressed and a whoosh of air followed by a sharp intake of breath.
The bed shakes just a little from Will kicking it and then groans under his weight as he climbs toward me.
I don’t expect to then be blinded, but I am.
A bright white light sears into my eyes.
My hands shoot out on instinct, trying to black the source of the light from continuing to blind me.
“What the hell?” My hands hang in the air for a moment, even after he turns the flash light off.
“I had to make sure it was you.”
“You had to blind me to do it? Every time I blink there’s a white spot now.”
He slides under the covers, maneuvering toward me until his arm is draped over my waist. “Yeah, I did.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he says it.
He continues to get comfortable, dropping a sideways kiss half off my chin before he huffs, bringing his hand to cup the side of my face.
A thumb sweeps across my skin until he swipes over my lips.
“There they are.” And then his lips are on me.
He doesn’t deepen the kiss, instead opting to snuggle into me further, shoving his arm under my pillow until we’re pressed against each other.
It's strange being unable to see him at all. It's like all the other senses are heightened, his smell, his warmth, the sound of his breath are all more intense and yet, comforting and safe.
He continues to shift around, the sound of the sheets rustling loud in the silent room. It feels like he’s wearing a long sleeved shirt and sweats, but I can’t be sure without being able to actually see him.
He lets out a heavy and contended sigh.
“Tell me something good,” I whisper.
“You, right now, here. I really missed you.”
I know I’m fishing for compliments when I ask the question, “What did you miss about me?” But the darkness makes me feel a little less exposed when I say it. My heart beats hard in my chest, anxious he’s going to say the only thing he missed about me was sex.
“I don’t know; everything. Not sure why this is the first thing coming to my mind, but I missed your cold hands.
” He goes silent for half a second, “I missed hanging out with you, cuddling, being stupid. You don’t know how many times I wished you were with me just so we could both laugh our asses off at something.
I liked when you’d call me and tell me about your horrible people watching, though.
You’re so bad at it,” he says, arm tightening around me, “I don’t understand how you people watched for three weeks and the best thing you saw was someone fall asleep and drool at the library.
Come on, Kenny, you can do better than that–it was finals week! Don’t even get me started on how–”