Chapter Eight #2
Landon was waiting for her outside the Annex, a bouquet of white roses resting in his arms. It instantly grounded her.
“You didn’t have to wait,” she said, though she was grateful he had.
“I’ve been to my fair share of Broadway shows, and I know that waiting by the stage door is key.
Besides”—he twirled the flowers in front of her—“I wanted to give you these before they drooped. I wish I’d thought to ask what your favorite flowers were before I got to the grocery store.
They had red ones, but they didn’t look half as good as these. ”
“I don’t have a favorite flower.” Though she realized that now, she did.
Landon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, steering her forward down the path to the dorms that they’d walked together so many times. “Have you already been told how amazing you were up there?”
“Wanda just told me. In her own weird way.”
“I’ll try to be very normal about it, then.
” Landon stopped walking and faced her, stooping down a little as he always did when he wanted to tell her something important.
Rose couldn’t know then that, years later, all that stooping would lead to back problems that would necessitate two surgeries and some of the most inventive sex they’d ever had—especially because here and now, despite how close they kept coming, they hadn’t broached it.
Landon stooped a little lower. “You were made to be up there, you know that?” His brown eyes widened, eyebrows raised.
“The play went way over my head, and parts of it were honestly ridiculous, but every time you moved, or spoke, or so much as tilted your head, I couldn’t see anyone but you.
And I know you’re going to try to explain this away by saying I’m just saying this because I want to get in your bed—and trust me, I do want to get in your bed—but it’s not why I’m saying it.
” He grabbed her hands. “You amaze me. And you kind of scare me. You have to keep doing this.”
He so easily put words to what she’d felt. Performing made her feel clear. Powerful. It was the antithesis of a bold B on the top of an essay. It made her feel like she might belong here after all.
“You want to get in my bed?”
Landon laughed. “Always.”
“No,” she said, running a fingernail down his palm before twining her fingers in his. “Really get in my bed.”
“Oh,” he said, leaning in. He reached a hand to her face and raked a few hairsprayed hairs back before cupping her cheek. “You’re sure?”
She laughed to try to hide just how sure she was. “I was sure two weeks ago. I was kind of waiting for you to make the first move?” Rose let the half question linger and tried her hardest not to take it back.
When Landon finally replied, it was not what Rose wanted to hear. “You would have been waiting a long time.”
Rose pulled out of his arms. “So you don’t want to—”
He reached back out for her, catching his hand on her scarf.
“I do want to. I wanted to the night I saw you drinking punch in that black dress. Don’t even get me started on the lake.
It’s only gotten worse with time. But you have to understand that I am doing everything in my power not to fuck this up.
If you thought I was going to risk being the first to say it and give you the opportunity to tell me things just weren’t that serious, you’re crazy. ”
“You’re kind of intense,” she said, pulling the scarf from his clutched hand and wrapping it back around her neck.
“I have been accused of that once or twice.”
Rose reached back for the memory of her first time with the football player.
It had grown fuzzier the months she’d been here, but she could still conjure the feelings: the way need and want had rolled through her in a frenzy, the pounding of her heart, strong arms roving soft curves and pliable limbs.
It had been fun, even emotional, with a boy she’d thought she might learn to love. What would it be like with Landon?
“Poppy won’t be home tonight.” She’d developed an attachment to Much Ado About Nothing’s Benedick—a senior with the most impressive beard Rose had ever seen up close—and had spent the last two nights in his bed, giving Rose no indication at their breakfast debrief that she’d be returning anytime soon.
“Let’s go before I say something to fuck this up.
” Landon lunged forward, and Rose burst out laughing.
“I considered throwing you over my shoulder, but I think it’s better if we just both jog,” he tossed back.
He sprinted ahead, Rose just behind him, and she wondered if there was anywhere he could go she would not follow.
She wasn’t sure who reached for who first. Some years later, Landon would swear he still had claw marks on his arms, etchings from her initial exuberance, and by then Rose was willing to concede ownership of the memory to him.
Rose worried the harsh overheads would break the spell, so she didn’t turn the lights on.
Even Poppy’s warm floor lamps were no match for what the moon could provide, its fullness spilling through the window and onto Rose’s bed.
She meant to pull his jacket off slowly, but there was a heat inside her—her hands impatient to meet his skin.
He helped her tug his arms out of the sleeves and dropped the jacket to the floor.
Then his hands were in her hair, pulling it out of its tight bun, down, down, stripping her coat so fast she could have been convinced she hadn’t worn one.
“You want this?” Landon asked, and she was surprised that the question didn’t put her off, given it was at least the second time he’d asked.
“Yes,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head, wishing she’d anticipated this might happen and put on something sexier than the beige bra she’d needed to hold everything in place while doing handstands and cartwheels.
“Yes.” She pulled her pants down and got caught in the tight bottoms of her jeans, but Landon lifted her off the floor before she could topple over.
“Okay,” he said, setting her back down. “Good. Because I have never wanted anything so much in my entire life. And I want to enjoy this—enjoy you. I don’t want to forget a single second because it was happening too fast.”
“Have me,” she said, stretching up on her toes to kiss him, the pressure building between them until he placed a hand on her chest and gently pushed her to the bed.
“Lie down,” he said. “Please.”
It was so simultaneously domineering and sweet that Rose knew she was at risk of immediately ignoring his plea to take it slow.
She watched the rise and fall of his chest and tried to match her breaths to his, warmth spreading and settling between her legs.
Then Landon’s steady arms were on her, moving her, stretching her arms above her head on the twin bed until she was one straight line.