Benny #2
“This is amazing,” she says, her voice so quiet it’s nearly reverent. After a beat of silence, she looks at me. “You have the best life out here. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little jealous.”
“My friends are pretty great.”
“So is Nancy.”
“She is.”
“And Colby’s not terrible, I guess,” she says.
“I’m glad he seems to be growing on you.”
“It was spotty there in the beginning.”
A laugh rumbles from my chest.
She leans over until her head is resting on my shoulder, and I thread my arm around her back to pull her tightly against me. “What if it didn’t end?”
My pulse skyrockets. “How?”
“I can move into Nancy’s basement. No one even needs to know I’m there.”
My mood falls, but I don’t let on. She’s wishing and hoping. This isn’t a real conversation. Bree is still very much intending to return to her regular life at the end of this. “Only one problem with that.”
“What?”
“My grandma doesn’t have a basement.”
Bree laughs. The sound is musical, magical.
I take off her sunglasses, which are digging into my shoulder, and fold them, sliding them into the front pocket of my shorts.
She gasps. “The stars are amazing.”
But I only have eyes for her.
She must sense my attention, because she tilts her head to look at me.
“Let’s move to this spot right here and never leave it, okay?
No one gets to bother us, and Jaida doesn’t exist in this world, and I don’t have to answer for my disappearing act, and you get to stay perfectly incognito. There’s really no downside.”
I fight my amusement. “You’d miss your cereal.”
“Shoot. I didn’t think about that. We can bring Captain Crunch and Fruit Loops. I’m sure the milk will stay cold if we bury it in the surf.”
“You sound crazy.”
“I feel a little crazy, if I’m being perfectly honest.” She trains her attention on the inky ocean in front of us, listening to the waves crashing on the dark beach below. “I don’t want to give this up, but I feel the end drawing near.”
“That’s ominous.”
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
I gaze down at her, noting the familiar slope of her nose and shape of her lips.
Yes, I feel the buzz between us like we’re plugged directly into an electrical outlet.
Yes, I sense the dissolution of our newfound friendship like a cup of sugar dissolving in a pitcher of lemonade.
There’s nothing I can do to slow it. I want to stretch these moments into a lifetime together.
It feels like we’re in a ticking time bomb that will absolutely explode at some point and definitely has an expiration date.
“Yes,” I finally say.
It’s all she needs. Bree reaches up and pulls my neck down until our lips meet, crashing together in a craze of thunderous passion.
Heat pools through my body as her hand tightens on my neck, her mouth moving over mine.
Everything else goes quiet—the waves on the beach, the birds squawking on the sand, the party down the shore—all reduced to a quiet hum.
I don’t need any nudge to participate. I was all on board from the moment she showed up on my porch two weeks ago.
My arms draw tightly around her, pulling her onto my lap so I can deepen the kiss.
Nothing prepares me for the feeling of this more mature Bree, soft and sure and confident, but still familiar and sweet.
Emotions pelt me from every direction. I find us moving like the winding beachy roads, quick, then slow—unsure, searching, then steady again.
We cycle through each emotion until we arrive back at the beginning with long, deep, kisses.
She pulls back long enough to look in my eyes. “This is a bad idea.”
I can’t speak. My chest heaves.
“Also, it’s a good one,” she says.
“Yes,” is all I can say. “One more, then I’ll get you home.”
Bree cups my face, then leans in and kisses me again, long and slow, infusing me with magic and affection. Strength flows through me, like I’m ready to conquer the world. I would do anything for her. I would strike a match and watch her problems burn.
Once I break away to breathe, I can’t find words adequate enough to tell her what I’m feeling, how badly I want her to find a way to stay.
She can’t stay, not without bringing the entire world to my doorstep, and I can’t live like that again. I refuse to. Which only means one thing: we can’t be together. It’s not possible.
“Why are you scowling?” she asks.
I smooth out my expression. “I don’t want this to end, but it needs to. I’m a gentleman now, Bree. It’s time to get you home.”
She laughs, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she climbs off my lap and lets me take her hand to lead her down the dune in the dark. Neither of us speaks while we walk to the car. When we reach the truck, I unlock it and open her door as voices from the other side of the parking lot gain volume.
Then we’re attacked with a barrage of flashing lights.
“What the—”
Bree ducks her head, covering her face while I slam her door and run around to the other side. I start the truck and peel out of the spot as the lights get closer, driving out of the parking lot before they can reach us.
“Ugh!” she groans. “Do you think they go any good shots?”
“We’ll know soon enough.” My jaw tenses, clenching and unclenching, while I drive out of the one-lane road and onto the highway to get to my neighborhood. Should I go a long way around? Try to lose them?
What would be the point in that? My house isn’t public record, but anyone in town can tell them where I live.
I swear, pulling onto my street much faster than I really should be driving. My adrenaline is up, and I can’t breathe normally.
“There’s more on my porch,” I mutter, noting the women standing there, knocking at the door.
Bree sits up, scooting over to look as I slow, wondering if I should keep driving or not. “Those aren’t paps,” she says, narrowing her eyes, then looking at me. “Those are my sisters.”