41. Only I’m the world she’s watching
Forty-One
ONLY I’M THE WORLD SHE’S WATCHING
Luke
“What’s the plan today?” I ask, walking down the path. The leaves on the trees rustle in the breeze as the gravel crunches under our feet. My hand grazes against the back of Liv’s as we walk side by side.
I can’t stop touching her. She’s like a drug.
An addiction I can’t get enough of. I loved every moment of watching the sunrise with her.
The way she willingly climbed into my lap, her body rocking against mine while the sun rose behind her like some sort of goddess.
The sounds of our combined pleasure the only other noise breaking the quiet of the morning.
Every moment with her is better than the last.
“We didn’t make any plans for today. I think Fran will kill me if I don’t finish my book so I can start the one she loaned me.
So, I’d like to do that at some point. We have a paint and sip tonight, though.
” Liv’s hair is up in a messy knot, blonde strands dancing around her face.
She swipes the errant strands away as she talks.
“Oh yeah? Over at the cafe, right?”
“Yup, have you done it?”
“Rachel keeps trying to get Josh and me to sign up. Fran goes, even Reg sometimes. But no, it’s not really my thing. I’m not artistic.” I drape my arm around Liv’s shoulder, tugging her into me. She wraps an arm around my waist.
“Me either. I can’t even draw stick figures, so tonight will be interesting.” She leans her head against me, and it all feels so comfortable. So natural.
Reality slams into me.
She’s leaving in two days.
She’s a guest.
We’re just having fun.
This can’t be more.
I release her shoulder and stop on the path to face her, gripping her delicate fingers between mine to stop her too.
“Trip…”
She turns to face me, hazel eyes peering up at me.
“Last night was… and this morning…” What am I trying to say here? It was fun. No, it was incredible. We’re still just having fun, right?
Liv’s eyes grow wide, and a blush creeps up her neck. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“It was fun. Amazing even.” She smiles up at me from under her lashes.
“It was! I just… Once we get back to the house, we need to…” The briefest look of confusion crosses her face for a moment before it’s replaced with something more composed and collected. She pulls her fingers from my grip.
I reach for her again, but she tucks her hands into her pockets, so I do the same. It feels wrong, telling her to keep a safe distance so no one suspects anything, when all I want to do is touch her—to be near her.
It’s how it has to be, though. Secret touches, hidden moments.
This can’t be anything more than that.
“I totally understand. Don’t worry. The secret's still safe with me.” She zips her lips and throws away the key. Her voice is steady and strong.
I snake my arm around her waist and pull her into me, running my nose along her neck. “I’m sorry. I hate this has to be a secret. I don’t want you to feel—”
“This whole secret affair was my idea,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes. A cute smile spread across her lips. “Stop overthinking.” She shoves me playfully.
“Then let me sneak in one more”—my lips play along her jaw—“kiss before we have to pretend I don’t want to devour you here on the spot.” And I would if I could, right here on this path. I’d lay her down and spread her wide to taste every bit of her sweetness.
My tongue tangles with hers, a dance we seem to have perfected over the last few days. I dig my fingers into her hair, pulling the messy bun free and tugging on the strands so her neck is mine. She gasps and grips my shirt, twisting the fabric between her fingers.
The moment is over all too soon when she pulls away from my arms.
“Alright, Romeo, come on. I need coffee.”
There are no more subtle brushes of skin, no more bumps of our hands as we walk. Liv keeps a safe distance, a little quieter than before. I chalk it up to making sure no one can misconstrue anything between us when we break through the tree line, the house in sight.
Viv is pouring her coffee when we enter through the doors. The great room is alive with people and the smells of breakfast. She turns and leans against the counter, watching us enter, a small smile playing across her face.
Ma comes out of the kitchen door carrying a hot plate of scrambled eggs, her ever-watchful eyes landing on me, holding the door open for Liv. Mae Huffman misses nothing. She squints slightly, the briefest raise of her eyebrows, then a tilt down of her chin as if working through some sort of puzzle.
Nothing to see here, Ma.
Liv makes her way to Viv, reaching up to the shelf for a mug. The two of them talk quietly at the counter. I grab the tray of eggs from Ma and place it in the designated spot on the counter.
“Thanks, hun. Hey, can I borrow you for a minute?” she asks, sweet as can be. This can’t be good.
“Morning, girls.” Ma leans toward Liv and Viv, who pause their conversation to say good morning in return. “Luke,” she brushes past me, holding the kitchen door open.
In the kitchen, she flips the dish rag from her shoulder and drops it to the counter, swiping at stray crumbs. I grab a peach from the fruit bowl. The juice dribbles down the side of my chin with my first bite.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks. The peach lodges in my throat, forcing a choked cough. My mother stops cleaning, turning her attention to me. Patiently, she waits for my coughing fit to subside, hip against the kitchen counter, canary-yellow glasses balancing on the tip of her nose.
I clear my throat, fist pounding against my chest.
“How do you mean?” I ask, grabbing a glass of water and washing the peach down.
“You know exactly what I mean, Lucas Huffman. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss Weston. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take this much interest in the guests here.”
I can’t gauge her tone. She’s both accusing and curious. It’s disarming not knowing exactly where she’s coming from.
So, I do what any son would do—deflect.
“You’ve always told Josh and me to be more friendly and personable with the guests. I’m just doing what you asked.”
“Walks in the morning, drinks on the patio, a sunset cruise just the four of you. It’s just interesting to me, that’s all.” She resumes wiping off the counter, then makes her way to the fridge to check its contents.
“For goodness’ sake, Ma, are you spying on me?
” I cross my arms and lean against the counter.
My mother grabs a notepad and pen and writes something down before looking at me over the rim of her glasses.
She pauses, pad and pen in hand, and gives me that mom look that she’s spent the entirety of my existence perfecting.
“Is it spying if it’s my house?”
“They’re nice! We all get along well. We played trivia the other night—as you suggested. It’s been a while since guests who were around our age have stayed here. We’re all just connecting as friends.” I choke out those last words. Tossing the pit of my peach in the garbage, I turn to wash my hands.
The kitchen window overlooks the back patio, the lawn, and the dock. Of course. I bet Ma stands here, making breakfast, sipping her coffee, just watching the world go by with a front-row seat. Only I’m the world she’s watching.
I can feel Ma’s eyes boring a hole in my back. Guilt consumes me. I hate keeping secrets from her, but I can’t tell her. She doesn’t need to worry about my potentially reckless choices. I scrub my hands under the water until they’re red and raw, avoiding turning around.
“Mm-hmm,” is all she says. “Save some of that water for the fish, would ya?”
The fridge door closes with a thud. I turn off the water, hands on the edge of the sink. I listen as Ma exits back out to the great room, leaving me in the kitchen alone, torn between wanting to be the son I need to be, and desperately wanting to see Liv again.