Chapter Twenty-Three - Becca
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lucky pulls me closer, and when his lips land fully, my entire body disappears, and I am soaring.
Like a shooting star zipping across the galaxy, I’m flying—tethered to the earth only by the feel of Lucky’s thumb caressing the sensitive skin of my neck as his mouth moves against mine.
My heart and my lungs can’t seem to keep up, and I know that if I die from this, I won’t even care. Because this moment, this kiss, is everything.
One of my hands grips Lucky’s shirt, while the fingers of my other hand tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. I press myself closer as warmth blooms in my chest and spreads through my entire body.
Everything I’ve been bottling up, all the feelings I haven’t wanted to acknowledge, come pouring out of me. I don’t know if Lucky can tell or not, but his lips match the almost frenzied rhythm of my own, and it only makes me sink into him more.
My lips part, and when Lucky’s tongue sweeps inside, I taste hints of chocolate and graham crackers.
His hands slide from my face to my back, fingertips grazing the line of skin where my shirt has ridden up.
The trail of his touch against my bare skin is searing, and oh my god, I never want him to stop touching me.
It’s a euphoric high that I never want to come down from, never want to end. I want more.
I don’t know if he can feel the way my heart is threatening to explode, but he pulls me closer as I continue to soar, the heavens swirling around me.
When Lucky finally pulls away, it takes a moment for my body to come back down to earth, my stomach flipping over from the sudden return to gravity.
I want to say something, but I don’t think I could form a coherent sentence if I tried, and from the goofy expression on Lucky’s face, I think he feels the same. A giggle bubbles in my throat, and I let it out, my shoulders shaking with it. Lucky joins in.
“That was . . .” he says, his entire face bright. “Amazing.”
“I . . . I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” My cheeks blaze, and I cover my face, a little surprised that I just said that out loud.
“Wait,” Lucky pulls my hands away, so he can look into my eyes. “Really? Because I’ve wanted the same thing.”
“So . . . what do we do now?”
“Well, I for one, would like to go back to the kissing.” Lucky leans in again, and it takes everything I have to not melt against him.
“Hold up,” I say, lightly pushing him back. “We should probably talk about this. We’re trying to convince the world that we despise each other.”
“The cameras are gone, Holly G.”
“For now. But how am I going to look at you tomorrow and act like I hate your stinking guts when all I want to do is this?”
This time, it’s me who leans in, pressing my lips against his. Lucky’s arms automatically wrap around me, his hands like flames on my skin, and it’s back into orbit I go, the stars twirling around us.
Hours or minutes later, it’s hard to tell which, we pull back, grinning like mad.
“This is going to make things very complicated,” I say with a giggle.
“Yeah, but I like a challenge.”
“Oh!” I instantly dig my phone out of my pocket. “Speaking of challenges, voting should be closed by now.”
I pull up the Starlight website and scroll down to find the updated standings. Lucky peers over my shoulder, letting out a whoop when he spots our names in the lineup.
“Second place?” I can’t believe it. “We went from last to second?” It seems almost too good to be true.
“Hell yeah, we did!” Lucky leaps up and starts dancing, moving his lanky limbs in the most ridiculous way, causing me to snort. He pulls me up next to him and we both dance it out, not caring how silly we look. It’s only us and the moon out here, so why not.
We collapse in a heap beside the fire, laughing so hard my stomach hurts. Lucky’s got his phone out, scanning his various social media accounts.
“They love us,” he says, pointing at his notification page. “Well, they love that we hate each other anyway.”
“That’s exactly what we want,” I say, chuckling at some of the memes. “Man, they really do, don’t they?”
We spend the next several minutes reading each other funny mentions and laughing over all the comments. It seems the audience can’t get enough of us sniping and grumbling at each other.
“You know,” I say, shoving my phone back in my pocket, “I think this is the best day I’ve had in a long time.”
“Really?” Lucky readjusts, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“Yeah, I mean, with my mom and everything, I don’t get many good days. And especially none like this.”
I don’t mean to put a damper on things, but I can’t help but frown at the thought of my mother, of the call she accidently made in the bar.
“For a long time, I believed that things would get better. I told myself that if I just stuck it out long enough, she would eventually get her life together. So, I stayed behind while all my friends went off to college or left to travel the world. I stayed because despite everything, I love my mom, and I truly believed that she’d wake up one day and choose to get better. ”
I let out a shuddering breath. “But that’s never going to happen. The only choice she makes is what liquor to pour down her throat or what random guy she wants in her bed.”
Lucky reaches over, lacing his fingers through mine. “She’s never tried to get help?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t think she even realizes she has a problem.
If she does, she pretends not to. Or doesn’t care.
” I lift a shoulder and let it drop. “I just want my life to be different. I want her to get better, to be the mom she used to be, but I don’t know if she ever will.
It’s more than that, too. I want my life to not revolve around cleaning up her messes and paying her bills.
I want to travel or maybe take a photography class or .
. . or something. I just want options. I want to feel like I have choices, and I don’t want to feel so bad for thinking about making them.
I’m on a ride that I can never get off of, and I just want it to stop. ”
“I’m so sorry, Becca.” Lucky presses a kiss to my temple as he pulls me into his side, wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulders. Hot tears prick at my eyes.
My mother has never apologized, not once, for how things are. I don’t even think I realized how badly I needed someone to say it, and Lucky’s sweet words nearly make me sob.
“It’s okay.” I try to force away the feelings warring in my chest. “It’s fine, really.”
“No,” Lucky says softly, “No, Holly G. It’s not.”
It’s that understanding, that acknowledgment that sends the tears rolling down my cheeks.
Lucky swipes at them with his thumbs before pulling me into a hug so safe and warm that it only makes more tears well up. I bury my face in his neck, giving into both the pain and the comfort.
He doesn’t rush me. Doesn’t say anything to try to fix it, to fix me. Instead, he just holds me, giving me space to feel what I spend most of my time trying to fight or ignore.
It’s more than anyone else has ever offered me.