I grunt. “Just take my money, dude.”
He takes my money, keeps the change for himself.
The same thing happens at the food counter. The exact same thing. Zane, the kid working the counter, also refuses to take my money, also makes a comment about him dating Lane and what the fuck, Lane?
“You’re mad?” Lane whispers, sitting next to me in the empty theater, previews rolling.
I cross my arms. “So what if I am?”
“Luke, you can’t be mad that I’ve dated. I can be at school and spit in any direction, and it’ll land on some girl you’ve screwed. Not just dated.”
“I just don’t like the idea of you being with someone else.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“What?”
“You’re an idiot,” she repeats.
“That’s real nice, Lane.”
She leans closer; her whispered words slice the air, slice my heart. “I’ve had to sit around for years watching you date girl after girl after goddamn girl. I’ve listened to you talk about them, talk about having sex with them. And not once have I ever shown you how upsetting it was for me. I had to put up with it for years! You can deal with it for one night!” She rears back, but she doesn’t get far. I take her face in my hands and I kiss her, claim her, and I hate when she’s right and I’m wrong and she’s everything and I’m nothing. I swipe my tongue across hers, not wanting my frustration to show in the kiss, and I go slowly, gently, until I feel her relax beneath my touch, and her hands go to my hair and she’s kissing away the anger, the pain, and it’s been so long, too long, since we’ve kissed like this and I must’ve forced myself to forget what it felt like to be kissed by her because she’s everything that’s perfect in the world. The lights dim, and the movie plays and we pull apart, laugh quietly. We watch the movie with my arm around her and her hand on my stomach, and it’s perfect, like it should’ve been years ago.
I take her home afterward, walk her to the front door. She’s blushing when she turns to me, and I take both her hands in mine.
“I had a really good time, Luke.” She moves our hands behind her back, leans up on her toes, kisses me once. “I like this,” she says. “It’s nice. You and me. Us.”
Say it, Luke. Tell her you love her. I swallow, nervous.
She says, “I think I’m going to drive myself to school in the morning.”
“Why?”
She motions to her car. “Because it’s just a car. It doesn’t mean anything. Cooper doesn’t mean anything. Not anymore.”
I get home, get into bed, and immediately shove my hands down my shorts. But then my phone rings and Laney’s name flashes on the screen and I force myself to wait. What’s another few minutes?
“Hey,” she says. “Remember that first week I spent with you, and then on Sunday night, I called and we spoke on the phone for hours?”
I take my hand out of my shorts. “I remember.”
“I guess I’m just missing you already. Lame, right?”
“No. I miss you, too.”
“Did you, um…” She takes a breath. “It kind of seemed like you wanted to say something when you walked me to the door, but you held off.”
“Yeah,” I admit, sighing. “I did.”
“What did you want to say?”
I run a hand through my hair, stare up at the ceiling. “You know what I wanted to say.”
She’s quiet a beat. Then: “Why didn’t you say it?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I guess it felt wrong to say it, but it definitely feels right to live it.”
Chapter Thirty
LUCAS
For the next couple of weeks, Laney and I date… without the actual dating part. We sneak in a kiss now and then, a boob grab sporadically, but besides that we don’t have a lot of spare time. With me practicing four days a week instead of three and her working every possible shift she can get to earn the money she so adamantly needs to pay back, it doesn’t leave room for much else. Now Dad’s gone on a business trip for a week, leaving Leo and me in charge which means I’m sleeping in the main house and I’m starting to lose my damn mind.
My family responsibilities had always been a problem with my previous girlfriends; I didn’t spend enough time with them, I didn’t take them on enough dates, I didn’t answer every single phone call every five minutes and why the hell did I have to be home at seven, on the dot, every night? They didn’t understand. But Laney does. “Maybe I should stay here for the week while your dad’s gone. Help out when I can?”
“You’re sweet,” I tell her, leaning on the kitchen counter flipping through one of Mom’s old recipe books for something I can make for Lachlan’s bake sale tomorrow. “But I don’t want you sleeping in the apartment by yourself, and I don’t think Dad would let you sleep in here. Do we have cocoa powder?”
She checks the pantry. “Nope. What are you looking for?”
“Lachy’s got a bake sale, and I need to make twenty-five of something.”
“You’re going to bake?”
“I’m going to try,” I say, flip, flip, flipping the pages. “And I need to do it soon because I have so much homework to do and I need to help Logan with his and make sure he does his piss cup and oh! Maybe you can bring the cup to Misty if she’s staying at your house, it saves me a trip.”
Her nose scrunches.
“Yeah. I didn’t think that one through.”
“Where’s Leo?”
“Basketball practice with the twins.”
“Okay,” she says, “I’m not going to touch a cup with Logan’s urine in it, but how about I do the baking, you do your homework, and when the cookies are in the oven, I’ll help Logan with his?”
“Cookies?”
“They’re quick and easy and”—she closes the recipe book—“I don’t need a recipe and you already have all the ingredients.”
“Really?” I ask, my shoulders suddenly rid of the weight they’d been carrying. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
I hug her tight, squeeze her boob.
Twenty minutes later I’m at the kitchen table drowning in textbooks and websites, and Lane’s got the cookies in the oven. Logan walks in through the back door (God knows where he’s been) and sniffs the air. “What the hell is that? It’s like heaven in my nostrils.”
“Cookies,” Lane tells him. “And you can have one as soon as you finish your homework. Go get your books.”
“No,” he says.
She puts her hand on her waist, raises an eyebrow. Intimidating Laney is fucking hot.
Logan rolls his eyes, looks at me as he passes. “I liked her better when you weren’t dipping your cock in her.”
I stick my foot out, he trips over it, lands on his side. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
He takes my money, keeps the change for himself.
The same thing happens at the food counter. The exact same thing. Zane, the kid working the counter, also refuses to take my money, also makes a comment about him dating Lane and what the fuck, Lane?
“You’re mad?” Lane whispers, sitting next to me in the empty theater, previews rolling.
I cross my arms. “So what if I am?”
“Luke, you can’t be mad that I’ve dated. I can be at school and spit in any direction, and it’ll land on some girl you’ve screwed. Not just dated.”
“I just don’t like the idea of you being with someone else.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“What?”
“You’re an idiot,” she repeats.
“That’s real nice, Lane.”
She leans closer; her whispered words slice the air, slice my heart. “I’ve had to sit around for years watching you date girl after girl after goddamn girl. I’ve listened to you talk about them, talk about having sex with them. And not once have I ever shown you how upsetting it was for me. I had to put up with it for years! You can deal with it for one night!” She rears back, but she doesn’t get far. I take her face in my hands and I kiss her, claim her, and I hate when she’s right and I’m wrong and she’s everything and I’m nothing. I swipe my tongue across hers, not wanting my frustration to show in the kiss, and I go slowly, gently, until I feel her relax beneath my touch, and her hands go to my hair and she’s kissing away the anger, the pain, and it’s been so long, too long, since we’ve kissed like this and I must’ve forced myself to forget what it felt like to be kissed by her because she’s everything that’s perfect in the world. The lights dim, and the movie plays and we pull apart, laugh quietly. We watch the movie with my arm around her and her hand on my stomach, and it’s perfect, like it should’ve been years ago.
I take her home afterward, walk her to the front door. She’s blushing when she turns to me, and I take both her hands in mine.
“I had a really good time, Luke.” She moves our hands behind her back, leans up on her toes, kisses me once. “I like this,” she says. “It’s nice. You and me. Us.”
Say it, Luke. Tell her you love her. I swallow, nervous.
She says, “I think I’m going to drive myself to school in the morning.”
“Why?”
She motions to her car. “Because it’s just a car. It doesn’t mean anything. Cooper doesn’t mean anything. Not anymore.”
I get home, get into bed, and immediately shove my hands down my shorts. But then my phone rings and Laney’s name flashes on the screen and I force myself to wait. What’s another few minutes?
“Hey,” she says. “Remember that first week I spent with you, and then on Sunday night, I called and we spoke on the phone for hours?”
I take my hand out of my shorts. “I remember.”
“I guess I’m just missing you already. Lame, right?”
“No. I miss you, too.”
“Did you, um…” She takes a breath. “It kind of seemed like you wanted to say something when you walked me to the door, but you held off.”
“Yeah,” I admit, sighing. “I did.”
“What did you want to say?”
I run a hand through my hair, stare up at the ceiling. “You know what I wanted to say.”
She’s quiet a beat. Then: “Why didn’t you say it?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I guess it felt wrong to say it, but it definitely feels right to live it.”
Chapter Thirty
LUCAS
For the next couple of weeks, Laney and I date… without the actual dating part. We sneak in a kiss now and then, a boob grab sporadically, but besides that we don’t have a lot of spare time. With me practicing four days a week instead of three and her working every possible shift she can get to earn the money she so adamantly needs to pay back, it doesn’t leave room for much else. Now Dad’s gone on a business trip for a week, leaving Leo and me in charge which means I’m sleeping in the main house and I’m starting to lose my damn mind.
My family responsibilities had always been a problem with my previous girlfriends; I didn’t spend enough time with them, I didn’t take them on enough dates, I didn’t answer every single phone call every five minutes and why the hell did I have to be home at seven, on the dot, every night? They didn’t understand. But Laney does. “Maybe I should stay here for the week while your dad’s gone. Help out when I can?”
“You’re sweet,” I tell her, leaning on the kitchen counter flipping through one of Mom’s old recipe books for something I can make for Lachlan’s bake sale tomorrow. “But I don’t want you sleeping in the apartment by yourself, and I don’t think Dad would let you sleep in here. Do we have cocoa powder?”
She checks the pantry. “Nope. What are you looking for?”
“Lachy’s got a bake sale, and I need to make twenty-five of something.”
“You’re going to bake?”
“I’m going to try,” I say, flip, flip, flipping the pages. “And I need to do it soon because I have so much homework to do and I need to help Logan with his and make sure he does his piss cup and oh! Maybe you can bring the cup to Misty if she’s staying at your house, it saves me a trip.”
Her nose scrunches.
“Yeah. I didn’t think that one through.”
“Where’s Leo?”
“Basketball practice with the twins.”
“Okay,” she says, “I’m not going to touch a cup with Logan’s urine in it, but how about I do the baking, you do your homework, and when the cookies are in the oven, I’ll help Logan with his?”
“Cookies?”
“They’re quick and easy and”—she closes the recipe book—“I don’t need a recipe and you already have all the ingredients.”
“Really?” I ask, my shoulders suddenly rid of the weight they’d been carrying. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
I hug her tight, squeeze her boob.
Twenty minutes later I’m at the kitchen table drowning in textbooks and websites, and Lane’s got the cookies in the oven. Logan walks in through the back door (God knows where he’s been) and sniffs the air. “What the hell is that? It’s like heaven in my nostrils.”
“Cookies,” Lane tells him. “And you can have one as soon as you finish your homework. Go get your books.”
“No,” he says.
She puts her hand on her waist, raises an eyebrow. Intimidating Laney is fucking hot.
Logan rolls his eyes, looks at me as he passes. “I liked her better when you weren’t dipping your cock in her.”
I stick my foot out, he trips over it, lands on his side. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
