“So we heard about your little field trip today.” Waverly stretches out next to the pool, crossing one tanned leg over the other. I steal at glance at Luke. But he’s already looking at me.
“Yeah. It was a good time. Perfect weather, perfect company…couldn’t have asked for a better day,” he says without looking away. “I’m just glad we got to keep it going.”
Me, too.
“I took the theatre kids to the beach for a sunrise picnic last year,” Waverly continues. “We had just wrapped a show—
Pippin
, I think—and they were still wired after we broke down the set. So we got breakfast and went out to the beach and watched the sun rise.”
“Good for you.” Luke offers her a brief but genuine smile. “I bet they had a great time.”
“Well, I did hear some of the kids saying it was one of their best Allford memories. But whatever.”
“He. Is. Amazing,” Gwen’s breathy whisper tickles my ear. “Seriously. Date. Him.”
I smile as Waverly launches into Allford’s fall musical lineup. Luke nods politely.
“He is pretty great, isn’t he?” I whisper back.
“Those are all great shows. You guys are gonna have an awesome season,” Luke says, loudly enough to bring me back to him. “So this place is cool. I love the…” He leans toward me, his eyes bright with amusement. “… what do you call it? Décor?”
I stifle a laugh. “Décor. Definitely. Very good décor.”
“I kind of want to go check the place out. Look around a little.” He pokes me in the small of my back. Hard.
“I’ll go,” I blurt out.
“I bet you will.” Waverly smiles a closed-lip smile. Amusement? Jealousy? Annoyance? It’s hard to tell.
“Have fun, kids. Stay in school. Don’t do drugs.” Gwen lifts her glass over her head in a solo toast.
“Check, check, and check.” Luke jumps up and helps me to standing. “We’ll be back.”
“Décor, Luke? Seriously?” I smile as we weave our way around the pool’s edge. “Well, I had to find some way to steal you away.” Luke slips his hand in mine. Our fingers intertwine naturally. “Décor seemed like as good an option as any.”
“Fair enough. Where are we going?”
“Right here.” Around the corner from the exit door is a tiny nook, too small for lounge furniture. Beyond the wall is our own private view of Miami.
I lean over the ledge, watching crowds of people weave through each other on the streets below. Groups of giggling girls hoping their eye makeup and asses will help them pass for 21. Barbie and Ken: Miami Style. (She’s in an emerald bodycon dress, with blonde hair almost to her waist. His hair is slicked back like a plastic doll’s, and his “tan” is deeper than hers.) My gaze flits from one group to the next. Then I feel Luke close behind me, and the streets go blurry, like a watercolor that hasn’t yet dried.
“It’s a beautiful view, don’t you think?” I say.
He presses the length of his body against mine. “Yeah,” he murmurs into my ear. “I do.” He rests his hands on my hips and turns me around to face him. “But this is even better. I want to see you.”
I let myself look up at him. Drink him in. There’s something so safe about him. He’s solid. Stable. Everything my life hasn’t been in the past six months. Fuck, everything my life hasn’t been for as long as I can remember.
“I’m glad you asked me to come out tonight. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I got home,” he says.
“Same.” Everything about him is distracting: the curve of his mouth, the color of his eyes, the lines of his chest. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, either.”
“Good.” He cups the back of my neck with his hand; strokes my throat with his thumb. Presses me into the wall. “So do you think, maybe, you’d want to go out again?” He bends down and kisses my jaw, my cheek, my chin. Everywhere but my mouth. My body burns with wanting.
“And again,” I nod.
“And again after that, and again after that.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because—” He pulls back, just enough to look into my eyes. “I like you.” His words are so simple. And yet, I don’t remember the last time I’ve heard them. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard them. It’s almost too much. I’m not sure I can handle this kind of close. How could he possibly like me, when he doesn’t really know who I am?
“You’re such a nerd.” I grab his shirt and pull him into me, then stop as his lips are just inches from mine. I want him to take over. And he does, pressing me against the wall as he lowers his mouth to mine. His hands travel to the base of my skull. Then over the rest of me, sliding between my breasts to my waist. Effortlessly, he lifts me to the ledge, and there is nothing between my body and city streets below. My stomach bottoms out.
“Luke!” My whisper is hoarse. “Wait.”
“Hey.” His grip on me tightens. “I’ve got you, okay? Trust me.”
I nod; drop my face to meet his. Kiss him urgently. So hard my lips are burning like the rest of me.
“Elle,” he says roughly.
Almost in response, my legs part, and I draw him into me. He runs his palms over my calves and thighs, and I shiver at his touch. Hungrily, I search him back, feeling the heat of skin through his shirt. I clutch his belt buckle, and my hand finds the space beneath it. He’s hard, and inhales sharply the second I touch him.
“Fuck. I want to take you home right now,” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” I nod. “Okay. Let’s—”
“But I can’t.” His chest is still rising and falling quickly. He lifts me from the ledge and gives me a tight squeeze before releasing me. “I just… I think we should wait until we know each other a little better. Does that sound ridiculous?” For the first time all night, he looks away from me. Like he’s embarrassed.
“Of course not!” I rest my palms on his chest and lean into him. The steady beat of his heart is comforting. “Hey. It’s okay. I can wait.” I’m doing a terrible job at hiding my disappointment. Though in a way, the fact that Luke wants to wait is sweet. A reminder that he’s more than just some guy who wants to screw and be done with it. He wants to know me. He wants the kind of intimacy I can understand only in theory. It’s terrifying. Exhilarating.
“I know that might sound kind of weird. It’s just that I’ve jumped into things too fast before,” he says. “And I don’t want to do that with you.”
“Okay.” I play with the button on his shirt.
“And it’s not because you’re not incredibly hot. Because you’re seriously the sexist—”
“Luke!” I laugh. “It’s okay. I get it. It’s fine.”
“Okay,” he says sheepishly. “Shutting up now.”
“Good,” I joke. We turn and lean over the ledge side by side. Watch the miniature people in their dance, watch the glinting, flashing neon lights pulse in their perpetual rhythm.
“Okay,” Luke says after a while. “I hate to do this, but I should go.”
“What? Why?”
“For one thing, I don’t want to steal you from your friends for the whole night.” He traces my collarbone with his thumb. “And for another, I’m not sure my willpower is strong enough to spend the whole night with you without… spending the whole night with you.”
Something in my chest tightens. He’s right; I know we couldn’t spend the rest of the night this close to each other without giving in. I’m not strong enough. But God, he looks too good to let go.
“Say goodnight, Elle,” he says teasingly.
“Goodnight, Elle,” I groan.
“Hey, are you free tomorrow? Late afternoon? There’s a local musician I really like playing at this bar near my place. We could walk there. Dig up dinner afterward if you want.” It’s sweet, the way his words still seem tentative. Like he’s not sure I’ll say yes.
“Yeah. Sounds great.”
“Great.” He pulls me in for a long, soft kiss, sending shivers through my body all over again. “I’ll pick you up around 4. Have a good night.” He winds around the corner and is gone.
I turn back to the city below, the warm breeze tickling my cheeks and running its fingers through my hair. I beam down at the streets below, let the shuddery giddy feeling rattle its way through me.
“Screw it,” I murmur to the city below. If Luke Poulos wants to know the real me, I owe it to him to give him a chance. I still don’t know if I could ever tell him about my past, but does it matter? Maybe he could get to know the me that exists now. Isn’t that the real me?
Maybe he could love the new version of me. Maybe I could let him.
Elle,
David and I are heading back to the City today. God, I’m dreading the moment when he drops me off. The moment when I’ll step inside, and for a second, it will be quiet. And then she’ll drop something, or trip, or worse, starts screaming at me for some sin I’ve never committed. A reminder that some things—some people—aren’t ever going to change.
Love you for infinity,
A
Diluted pink light washes over the horizon as the girls as I exit our last stop of the night: a 24-hour diner not far from the South Beach strip. Giant coffees in hand, we stumble onto the sidewalk. Correction: Gwen and I stumble onto the sidewalk. Waverly sashays. Somehow, her hair and red lips are still perfect.
“Need. Bed. Now,” Gwen bleats. “Seriously. I’m sleeping until my first class tomorrow.”
“Shower,” I yawn. My head and feet are pulsing at alternate rhythms, and my legs are starting to feel the effects of the snorkeling excursion. Even though my body is worn out, my mind is whirring at full speed. I don’t want to sleep. I want to see Luke again. And I don’t want to wait until this afternoon.
“Lightweights,” Waverly says accusingly.
Latweights.
Her Southern accent intensifies when she’s drunk.
Gwen ignores her and steps into the street, hailing a cab in less than five seconds. “I’m going home. You’re both welcome to join me.”
“Come on, girl.” Waverly grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the cab. At the last second, I pull away.
“You guys go ahead. I’m good.”
Gwen’s face crinkles in confusion. “Are you still drunk? Get in the cab, woman!”
I shake my head. “No, seriously. Luke’s place isn’t far from here. I want to say hi.”
“You naughty little minx,” Waverly winks. Her ridiculous expressions also intensify when she’s drunk. “You sure you don’t want us to drop you?”
“I’m good. I could use the walk,” I assure them. “Go on.”
“Ohhhkay,” Waverly says. “See you at home. Have fun.” She hops in the cab behind Gwen, who’s already curled up against the far door. Waverly straps Gwen in, gives her hair a condescending pat, and pulls the cab door closed behind her.
I stand for a second on the curb, wondering if I’m suffering from a bout of cocktail-induced temporary insanity. Luke’s probably still asleep. The last thing he wants is an unsolicited early morning visit. I check my cell; it’s just past 7.
I can’t remember the last time I stayed out this late. The girls and I had club-hopped South Beach’s busiest blocks, slipping into some clubs and getting shooed away from others by burly dudes in headsets. Then we’d wandered to the beach, where we’d stretched out in the sand and talked about everything from Gwen’s summer program to Waverly’s ex, a college linebacker named Chip who had proposed after graduation, then announced four days before the wedding that he was in love with a girl from home named Candy. CANDY. And Gwen had talked cryptically about her time in New York, in a way that convinced me that I wasn’t the only one with secrets. We’d ended the night at the diner, munching on omelets and slurping bottomless coffees.
A blaring cab horn brings me back, and I hop away from the curb. Ducking back into the diner, I order a fresh latté and a bagel sandwich to go. While I wait, I find the bathroom, pop a piece of gum, and peer into the cracked mirror. My hair is flat and my black kohl eyeliner has migrated so far south, I look like a football player. I yank the last of the paper towels from the dispenser on the wall, hold it under the dripping faucet, and dab at the liner until it has almost disappeared. Then I pop two more pieces of gum, give my hair a shake, and re-gloss. It’s not perfect, but it will have to be good enough.
By the time I emerge from the bathroom, my order is sitting on the counter. I hand the cashier a wad of small bills and start making my way toward the chapel. Toward Luke. Or at least I think I’m making my way toward him. I recognize a few landmarks as I limp west: colorful storefronts, hotels. A fine layer of sand dusts my skin and collects in my shoes. I stop outside a day spa to slurp my latté. It burns my tongue.
I don’t know why I’m doing this, exactly. I know only that I’m hungry for the feeling he gave me last night. I want to feel safe again. I want to feel seen. Just being close to him makes me feel hope. Like this could be My Life: Part II. The beginning of something real and good.
Immediately, the nagging voice in the back of my psyche pipes up.
He’ll reject you if he ever finds out what you’ve done.
He doesn’t have to know, I decide. He knows Elle Sloane, Economics Instructor at Allford Academy. He likes
her.
And doesn’t that mean he likes me? He doesn’t have to know everything I’ve been through to understand me. I am not my past. I am not the sins I have committed. I want desperately to believe that this is true.
The chapel is only a few blocks away, but it takes me at least ten minutes to get there. By the time I reach the front door, blisters throb at my heels and I can no longer feel my toes. As I rap on the front door, my heart speeds up and my nerves launch into overdrive. What if Luke thinks this is weird? One date and a rooftop make-out session and I’m showing up at his house unannounced on a Sunday morning?
Oh, God. I’ve made a terrible mistake
.
This looks psycho. You are a total psycho, and Luke’s going to figure it out in approximately three seconds.
I’m about to turn and limp back toward the beach when I hear footsteps. Shit. I definitely can’t run fast enough in these heels to escape. I plaster my best non-psychotic smile on my face and clench my coffee cup so hard that the plastic lid pops off.
When the door opens, I can’t stop myself from launching into an explanation.