Authors: Olivia Lynde
His voice has taken on a hesitant note. Sweet
heavens, how can he still doubt how absolutely crazy I am about him? I would
follow him to the ends of the earth!
"Seth, yes, of course I want us to
stay together." Even the
thought
of not being with him one day
tears my heart to shreds.
And all the tension still clinging to
him like a dark cloud disappears just like that. He grins at me and squeezes my
hand that he's still holding. His free hand slips under my T-shirt. When he
starts to stroke the soft skin at my waist, I bite my lip to stop a moan.
He tells me huskily, "It's as
simple as this: we want to stay together, so we'll do whatever it takes to make
that happen. I won't regret my choice for college, Sunny, because wherever I'll
be, I'll have
you
. And anyway, all those four offers I told you about are
solid."
God, does he honestly expect me to
continue carrying a rational conversation when he's touching my bare skin with
those wicked, clever fingers?
"We don't have to make a final
decision right now, do we?" My voice is hoarse with desire. He's caressing
my lower back with slow, firm strokes, and his touch sends tendrils of sizzling
electricity through my entire body. I bite my inner cheek to stop another moan,
then somehow manage to whisper, "You'll think about it some more, and I
will too."
His eyes narrow intently on my mouth.
"Okay, Sunny. We'll talk some more later."
Our future is still as uncertain as ever
since we haven't really settled anything with our conversation. Except... we have.
We know we both want to stay together. And that we'll do anything for that. I'm
happy and relieved and so, so happy.
Yet still, in a dark corner of my mind I
can't help wondering if everything we can try and do to be together... will be
enough to actually make it so.
Then his weight is on me and we start to
kiss, and in no time at all I'm incapable of shaping even one coherent thought.
Much less any fears.
Next day, in Honors English, I ask
Marcie, "Are Jessica and Elle friends?"
"Elle, the cheerleader captain?"
"I guess." There's only one
Elle sitting at the popular table.
"Those two—friends? Oh my gosh, no
way! They've been
huge
arch-rivals all through high school—always trying
to one-up each other."
"So they're actually enemies?"
"Well, no. Not on the face of it, I
mean. Like, after Andrea graduated last year—she used to be the cheerleader
captain, and Jessica and Elle her co-captains—Jessica and Elle pretty much
flipped out fighting over who made captain. Not real fighting, you know, just
backstabbing and mudslinging and so on. But then when Jessica won, Elle
congratulated her." She giggles. "I actually saw that, and it was so
funny! Elle's face—it was like she'd sucked a rotten lemon."
"But now Elle's the captain?"
"Since this week," Marcie confirms
with a wink. "But trust me, those two have never been buddies. Popularity,
influence, the captaincy of the cheerleading squad... whatever you can think
of, they've squabbled over it." Innocently, she adds, "Even your boyfriend."
Then, with a frown: "Especially your boyfriend."
Ah. So when Seth chose me instead, those
two crazies finally found a common enemy against whom to unite. I always did
know I was a lucky girl. Oh, crap!
* * *
It's finally the end of the school
day—and of the school week, thank goodness—and Seth's driving us home. His
right hand, when he's not shifting gears, is on my left thigh, stroking me
idly—and every once in a while it glides just a little bit higher, just enough to
stir the cinders of desire low in my belly.
"You want to go to Joe's with me
today?" he asks me huskily. O-kay, at least he's affected as well by what
he's doing to me. Because really, he's making me crazy, and we're in the car
for crying out loud! It's good that I have the seatbelt restraining me to my
seat, or else I'd do something really crazy.
"Yes, I'd love to come with you,"
I answer him quietly. "I can bring a couple of my new books along so I'll
have something with which to occupy myself."
"It was cool of Mrs. Stevens to
lend you those books."
I smile. "She's a really nice
person. Much like her niece, actually. I love working in her shop."
He pauses in his stroking. "You
sure about that?"
I give him an exasperated look.
"Yes, Seth. It's a book shop and I'm a total book worm, so it's a perfect
fit." I don't really like to interact with people, especially strangers,
but luckily I don't have to do it often. I just organize the books. Seth starts
stroking me again.
My cell rings. I take it out of my bag
and glance at the screen. "Oh, it's Dana. God, she was weird today! Don't
you think so?" Twice she came looking for me between classes, looking as
if she was nearly choking on something very important that she had to tell me. But
then she just fell into step with me and Seth and wouldn't say a word. Later,
at lunch, she was even weirder.
"I have to take this," I tell
Seth.
"Don't!"
Huh? I look up at his profile and see
that he's looking straight ahead very fixedly. His skin has turned pale beneath
his tan. On my thigh, his hand lies awfully still.
Oh sweet mercy.
"I have to take this," I tell
him again, very softly.
And I press accept on my cell.
"Dana?"
"Oh for Christ's sake, Summer! Through
how many hoops do I have to jump so that I can talk to you alone for two lousy
minutes?! I mean, your Seth's worse than a guard dog!"
Seth's always been overprotective of me,
true, but that's just who he is. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I'm annoyed by
it, but always I accept it as coming with the territory of loving him. Besides,
when his protectiveness really flies off the handle, I can usually push it back
within acceptable boundaries. But not today. Today, he was really odd, not
wanting to let me out of his sight for even one second outside of class. Jeez,
we almost got into a fight when I had to go to the bathroom!
Dana continues in full flow: "I
seriously couldn't get you alone for one second, and then we had that stupid
test in Chemistry! And at lunch he was just sitting there beside you, looking
all dark and yummy and larger than life..."—I made a deal with Seth, and
three times each week we sit with his friends, twice a week with mine; today we
sat at my table. "And he's just so hot my brain seriously melted! Plus I
got this really weird feeling that if I opened my mouth to tell you what
happened, he'd cut my head off. And—"
"Dana, just tell me now."
Seth's hand is like a vise grip around my upper thigh.
She exhales audibly. "Okay, so here
goes. Your deranged stalker, Josh... He showed up today in school." Oh dear
God. "And then, sometime during first period, the
police
showed up...
and raided his locker. And found
drugs
."
I inhale sharply, my hand clenched on my
phone.
"Drugs?" I whisper. I'm turned
in my seat so that I can see Seth, and his body is rigid with dreadful tension.
His expression is unreadable, his eyes very dark. And his grip on my thigh is so
tight it's starting to hurt.
"A great deal of drugs," Dana
whispers back. "I mean, the police took him—pulled him straight out of
class—and I hear they're holding him not just for possession, but also for
dealing. He's facing serious jail time, Summer. Oh, and he was also expelled—but
that's totally small beans, all things considered."
"Yeah."
"I mean, I'd heard rumors that he
was using, but wow!... Seriously, how stupid was he, to keep a huge stash of
that stuff in his freaking locker at school?"
"Very stupid," I murmur. And
very unlikely. "How did the police find out?"
"Anonymous tip, I think."
"Right," I say hoarsely. I
take a very deep breath. "Thanks for telling me, Dana."
"No prob, Summer. I thought you
should know, what with everything that happened last time you saw him."
"Last week in World History, you
mean."
"Well, yeah. Didn't he like skip
school after that, until today?"
"Yes." Another deep breath. "Thanks
again, Dana. See you on Monday."
I end the call.
I become aware of my surroundings again.
We're parked in front of Seth's apartment building, and his hand isn't on me
anymore. In fact, he's not touching me anywhere now. His hands are balled to
fists, his arms and body and expression still infused with that terrible
tension from earlier. He's staring at me in unbroken silence and his eyes blaze
with fathomless emotion.
I've always known that Seth's moral
compass for right and wrong is... different. He lives by very strong, definite
principles—but they're his own principles, not ones forced on him by his Mom or
Grandma or society or religion. Mostly, his personal principles mesh with the
laws of society—but not always. And I'm coming to believe that, for me, he'd
break any law.
I don't think anyone else has ever
called Seth kind. That he was subjected so early on to his Mom's brand of life
lessons made sure that name—kind—could never be applied to him in regular life.
Except when he's with me.
I've always been aware of the
ruthlessness just underneath the veneer of his civility. And regardless of it,
I have always loved him.
I reach out toward one of his clenched
fists and pull gently on his fingers in silent demand to open. His fist relaxes
slowly, and I lace my fingers through his and smile at him brightly.
"We should hurry, big man. I want
to cook something delicious for you before we head for work."
His eyes turn from dark to incandescent
in an instant. Slowly, tentatively, he leans down toward me—still not certain
of his welcome, I think. I curl my other hand around his neck to pull him down
to me faster, and when our lips finally meet, there's no hesitation in me.
* * *
Our lives settle into an effortless
rhythm.
Whenever I'm with Seth, time expands in a
kaleidoscope of joy and intensity, and at the same time it contracts, flowing
by too quickly. Quite apart from the fact that he's
Seth
, my best friend
and my dream guy, he's simply a fun person to be with. He listens attentively
to whatever I have to say. He's very smart, full of fascinating ideas. He has a
dry wit and makes me laugh a lot.
Physically, as
if simply watching his stunning face and fantastic body wasn't enough of a wet
dream, he speaks to all my other senses as well. I love hearing his deep, sexy
voice, and his scent drives me wild with the longing to taste him. His touch
makes me sparkle like champagne, and his kisses are like a match set to my
kindling. Then, he has this way of looking deeply into my eyes and focusing on
me completely that creates the most exquisite quivers in my belly. Seth looking
at me as if I'm precious and somehow essential to him gives me the biggest high
I've ever imagined.
Quite simply, he
makes me totally, utterly happy. And from everything I can see, I get the sense
that he feels the same about me.
He's always
watching me intently, passion or tenderness glinting in his eyes. He listens to
me carefully, and when he speaks to me, warmth suffuses his voice. He's always
touching me: holding my hand or playing with my fingers, wrapping an arm around
me and nestling me into him, caressing my face or my neck, giving me small,
teasing kisses. Or not-so-small kisses that never fail to make me melt
completely into him.
He always looks
so very happy to be with me.
Thank you, God!
He's not
perfect, of course—just perfect for me. He's overprotective and super
possessive. He's stubborn and likes to always get his own way. The sheer force
of his personality is overwhelming, and it takes a lot of grit and sheer
obstinacy on my own part to be able to stand my ground before him. But I revel
in the challenge of holding my own with him; I revel in him and the way we so
effortlessly spark each other up.
Although we
disagree every now and then, we've yet to relive one of those bigger fights that
we used to have sometimes when we were children. Now when we quarrel, we're
usually quick to compromise or just end all fighting with a mind-blowing
makeout session. Ah, right! That's why we're arguing less now than when we were
children; back then, we didn't yet have this oh-so-splendid way of patching
things up.
In bed I never
hold back, because I trust him completely. I told him I'm still not ready to go
with him all the way, and so he's always careful not to take us beyond the
point of no return.
*
* *
In the second
week after I moved in with Seth, I get a call one evening. I'm alone in the
apartment since Seth hasn't returned yet from his sparring session in Grand
Rapids. When I hear my phone ring, I reach out quickly, thinking it's him calling.
But then I see the name on the screen, and my heart starts pounding in this rapid,
ominous rhythm.