56. CORA
CORA
The cold barrels into me the second we step outside. That’s what you get for Michigan in November.
I laugh, not because it’s funny, but because the shock of it feels good against the warm buzz floating through my head.
“Whoa,” I sigh, pulling Leo’s jacket tighter around my shoulders. “The wind makes it much worse.”
Lane doesn’t laugh.
He’s still holding my hand, guiding me on the wooden steps leading from the deck to the beach like I might tip over at any second.
Which, to be fair, is possible.
The sand is cold even through my shoes, crunching faintly as we walk farther away from the house. Behind us the music is still thumping through the walls, but out here it sounds distant. Muffled. Like the lake has swallowed most of it.
The moon reflects across the water in a long silver line. For a moment, neither of us say anything. The beach is empty, the cold not worth braving by the rest of the party patrons.
Lane finally lets go of my hand once we’re far enough away from the lights and drops onto the sand. “This is close enough to the water, Peaches.”
I smile at the nickname and follow his lead, plopping beside him. The cold seeps through the fabric of my jeans almost immediately.
“Okay,” I groan, rubbing my hands together. “This might have been a slightly bad idea.”
Lane glances over at me. “You think?”
“You’re very dramatic tonight,” I groan while looping my arm around his, leaning my head against his shoulder.
“I’m not dramatic,” he argues. “You’re drunk.”
I tilt my head back toward the sky. “Debatable.”
He exhales beside me, the sound quiet but heavy.
“Can you make me a promise?” Lane’s voice lures me in, like he’s going to tell me a secret.
“Maybe.”
“Can you promise not to take open drinks from strangers? Really, anywhere is a good rule of thumb, but especially at parties.”
Did I do that? I try to piece together the drinks I had and it’s fuzzy.
Nodding, I agree. “Yes. I can keep that promise.”
The wind roars off the lake, cutting through the air as waves roll in and out. Lane watches me. I can feel it.
“Do you ever feel like you did college wrong?”
Lane frowns. “Huh?”
“Like…” I gesture vaguely toward the house behind us. “Everyone in there seems to know how to do it.”
“How to do what?”
“College.”
The word comes out heavier than I expect. I stare out at the water, watching the dark waves break against the sand.
“I spent four years doing everything right,” I continue. “Studying. Planning. Getting good grades. Being responsible.”
Lane shifts beside me but doesn’t interrupt.
“And now I find out I might fail one stupid class because my brain decided to short-circuit during an exam.” The laugh that comes out of me sounds hollow. “Seems like I did this wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I shake my head. “You don’t get it.”
I gesture back to the house again. “Those girls in there? They’ve probably been doing this the whole time. Going to parties, dancing, having fun.”
Lane’s voice is quiet when he murmurs, “You think you missed out.”
It isn’t really a question.
“Maybe.”
The word floats between us for a second.
Then Lane asks something that makes me turn toward him.
“Do you think you’re missing out by being here with me right now?”
I purse my lips. “Lane.”
He looks at me.
“No. I absolutely don’t think of that.” My cold fingers find the side of his face and I sit up to kiss him. “You make me feel like I’m alive. Like I’m actually living.”
The words hang in the cold air between us. For a second, neither of us moves.
I feel him take a deep breath. “There’s something I could tell you, but I’m afraid you won’t remember it.”
I move in front of him, my knees pressing into the sand as I sit between his pulled-up legs.
“Tell me. And if I forget, you can tell me twice,” I joke.
Lane gives me the faintest smile, arms resting on his knees.
“I need you to keep that promise because I’m in love with you.”
I’m in love with you.
The words do their best to sober me up. There’s not a world where I won’t remember this in the morning.
I push my bottom lip through my teeth before leaning forward, hands on his shoulders as I kiss him. When he kisses me back, it’s like something snaps into place.
“I love you.” I kiss him again. “And how could I forget this? This is like going to be burned into my brain, in the best way.” He smiles into my lips and I pull away. “You make me feel like I did something right.”
“I’m not the guy that’s a good choice. You know that, right?”
“You’re the best choice. That’s what I think.” I sit back on my heels, the chilled sand pushing through my jeans.
Lane laughs, one of my favorite sounds, and continues, “Pretty sure that’s the tequila talking.”
“Speaking of…” I reach into my bag and pull out a mini bottle of tequila, open it, and take the shot. Lane’s eyes stay on me as I put the empty bottle back in my bag.
Drunk or not, I would never litter.
“You came prepared,” he says in such a way that I can’t tell if he’s judging me or not. The beach is kind of tipping side to side, courtesy of the tequila.
I grab the front of his jacket with both of my hands and lean down until only inches separate us. “That’s me. Miss Prepared.”
Lane laughs at the way I say the words, then looks at me with those deep chocolate eyes. Soft. Only for me. I’ve never seen him look at anything the way he looks at me.
Fuck. Maybe that’s why it’s easy to love him.
Moving my hand to his mouth, my thumb brushes the scar on his upper lip. The one that breaks my heart if I think of it too long.
“What are you thinking?” His warm breath hits my fingers.
“How I wish I could kiss this away. Make you forget about it.” My lips find that spot and I press my lips to it, slow and careful. The way I wish his parents would’ve been with him when he was a kid.
Lane kisses me back and it’s the type of kiss that could melt me, even on this freezing beach. I sink into it for as long as I can.
He pulls away and murmurs, “You kiss me like I’m worth saving.” Lane’s eyes glance past me a second, like he’s gathering the courage to continue. “It’s not something I’m used to feeling.”
My heart stutters in my chest at the honesty. The raw vulnerability. Lane is the kind of person who deserves to be loved.
Man, I’m fucking lucky to get to do it.