Chapter Thirteen #2
“I’m sorry,” she says. “It shouldn’t be about you.
I think a lot of it is about me, really.
It’s all these whispers and rumours and everyone knowing my history.
This whole town thinks I need to be coddled because my mom made her dramatic exit when I was twelve.
It’s as if I’m still a child in their eyes.
Never mind the fact I have my own house, with my own bills, and my own career.
I’m a fully independent adult, and if anyone ever bothered to crack the books they claim to be so proud of, they’d realize I write about very adult things as well.
It’s just—I don’t think it’s your fault that people are in such an uproar. It’s because of me.”
“It’s because of what I did.”
I full-body cringe the second it comes out because it’s so me, me, me. But there’s no way around this simple fact. The town wouldn’t care who Adelaide was dating if it was anyone other than me.
“Zander, darling.” Gran’s soft, soothing voice breaks through the tension I’ve created.
I stay unmoved and rigid. “I think Addie’s trying to say that things are complicated because of both your histories.
She’s grown up overprotected and you grew up underprotected.
Though, from my perspective, that’s part of why the two of you work so well.
The bottom line is no one is playing the blame game here. ”
“No,” Addie says, her fingers curl around the collar of my shirt, a frantic energy unspooling between us. “Please don’t think I’m blaming you for anything, because I’m not. I’m just trying to make sense of my own family dilemma. With you.”
I peel her hand away and wrap my fingers around hers. Our hands fit together perfectly. I count the freckles from her knuckles to her wrist as her words echo in my brain. With you. With you.
With you.
“I know you’re not,” I say, still staring at her hand. I bring it to my lips and kiss, softly. “I know. I’m just…I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?” Addie asks. She’s scooted further toward me, her legs tucked beneath her, knees against my thigh. “Scared you’ll get hurt?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never done this,” I say, which is a harrowing thing to admit, especially in front of two women who mean a whole lot to me.
“I swore off relationships a long time ago because everyone would run once they found out about everything. And rightfully so. I wouldn’t want to be with me either. ”
“Zander, please—“
“Addie,” I say, then nearly start crying while lost in the dark pools of her irises.
She blinks and nods, like I don’t even have to ask her to let me finish before she jumps in to comfort me.
She squeezes my hand. “You can disagree with that if you want, but I wouldn’t.
It’s hard to get over all of it and, likewise, I don’t blame anyone who can’t.
It’s just a fact of life. I’ve never been past a certain point in a relationship, so I gave up beyond some superficial companionship.
You deserve so much more than that. You are a vibrant force of a woman, who no one should coddle or underestimate.
And I’m…I’m afraid I won’t ever be good enough for you. ”
“You’re good enough as you are right now. I’m choosing you because I want to.” Addie frees herself from my hand and brings both up to cradle my face. “I don’t care what other people think. I’m not them. You don’t blame any of the people who walk out. What about the people who stay?”
Her lips ghost against mine for the briefest of seconds. I run my tongue along my bottom lip, tasting her.
“I’d question why they’re staying,” I say with a self-conscious laugh.
“Oh, Zander,” Gran says and I jump, too in the moment to remember she was also part of the conversation.
Gran laughs as she collects the two empty cups from the table.
She leaves my full one as she gets up to return to the kitchen.
“Accept the girl likes you and get over yourself. I’ll get out of your way so you can better have this conversation.
It was nice to see you again, Adelaide.”
“You too, Peggy. Always nice to chat about crochet patterns and this boy.”
Addie pulls me from the couch, through the front foyer, and onto my grandmother’s front porch. Lucy bounds after us, barking when Addie shoves me barefooted into a surprise rain shower.
“Get out of your head, Browning,” Addie yells as water pelts me. My clothes soak instantly, hair glues to my forehead. “Dance.”
“I’m not going to dance.”
“You are absolutely going to dance,” she says and runs into the storm. She takes my slick hands and starts jumping. “Dance with me!”
“This isn’t dancing!”
“Then show me!”
I pull her to me. She slips on the driveway and I scramble to catch her, allowing her to crash against me.
Her breasts press against my chest. Our drenched shirts stick together.
I think about keeping her there, about wet tank tops and her pebbled nipples.
She breathes heavily while regaining her balance, which really doesn’t help my visualization situation, especially with so much cleavage this close to my face.
My hands find her waist, making sure she can’t go anywhere.
Guess I’ve made my decision.
A water droplet runs along the bridge of her nose. Too tempted by this glorious woman, I wind up licking the button of her nose as the droplet slips off. She giggles.
“This isn’t dancing, either,” she says.
“Maybe not,” I say, then on a whim, support her back and dip her low. Her long mane of hair nearly touches the ground. “Better?”
“Much better, thank you.” Addie leans in to bridge the gap between us.
Our lips crash together. It’s a meeting of rainwater and tea and her. I feel intoxicated for the first time in over ten years. My heart pumps loud in my ears and the ever-present drone of worry and anxiety and what-ifs suddenly melt away as her lips frantically move against mine.
Her hands tangle in my hair, grabbing hold and pulling.
I find myself attempting to get closer to her, inching my fingers beneath the hem of her sopping wet tank top.
Her skin is just as wet, though soft and smooth and comfortably warm.
When I pull away for air, Addie’s hands move to my cheeks, my neck, my chin, and pull me back down to her.
Her energy is so feral, I have no choice but to match it.
I lean into her, forgetting I’ve already dipped her and Gran’s newly paved driveway is slippery.
I lose my footing and Addie tries to straighten and overcorrect, which is how we wind up in the dewy grass.
She lands on top of me and I’m winded, but only for a moment.
Because then I realize she’s on top of me.
She’s straddling me. And there’s no way she doesn’t feel exactly what she’s doing to me.
I groan as she moves her hips with a devious smirk on her face.
She bends down to me, her hair falling forward into my face.
I move the curtain to see the most beautiful angel, covered in freckles and rushing water droplets, the only sunshine yellow in a sea of dark grey sky.
I reach for her face and bring it down to mine, needing her lips like I need oxygen, and from her low noise of contentment, I can only assume she feels the same way.
“Not on my lawn, please!” Gran shouts from her porch. Addie and I break apart, though only at the lips. Lucy lets out an unimpressed sneeze from beside Gran. “Adelaide’s house has many rooms. Go find one.”