More Than This
Page 40

 Jay McLean

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
   “Want to walk with me?” Jake whispers in my ear.
   I nod, and we slip away. We end up sitting cross-legged on a dock that I didn’t know existed. We face each other, the moon the only source of light.
   “Your friends are great, Jake.”
   “Yeah, they’re good people. They like you.”
   I smile to myself, because I like them, too.
   He reaches out to take both my hands in his. His fingers play with the rings on my right hand. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my ring finger, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to do.
   “So what Logan said was crazy, right?” he says.
   “Yeah, I guess so. But not everyone finds someone they want to be with this young—even if it’s for a little bit, you know?”
   He agrees. “It must suck for him to not have someone.”
   A comfortable silence falls over us for a few minutes, both of us looking elsewhere. Then he laughs a little. “You know, my parents still make out like teenagers sometimes. I’ve seen it.”
   “Really?” I ask. “That’s so cute.”
   “You mean gross?”
   We look at each other. “No, Jake,” I say quietly, shaking my head. “I mean cute. Can you imagine finding someone you can’t keep your hands off of?”
   He laughs. “Yeah, Kayla, I actually can.” He’s looking straight at me.
   “Then, like, twenty years from now still feeling the same way? Can you imagine how good that would be?”
   He’s still staring at me, concentrating on my words. “Yeah, Kayla. I can imagine exactly what it would be like.”
   His gaze is so intense.
   Like looking into the sun.
   I have to look away.
   He stands abruptly and pulls me up with him. We sit down at the edge of the dock, our feet in the water. He sits behind me, with me between his legs, and we look out over the water. “It’s nice out here,” I say.
   He wraps his arms around my waist and folds his hands on my lap. “Mm-hm,” he murmurs, resting his chin on my shoulder. I feel his nose behind my ear and hear him inhale deeply.
   “Did you just sniff me?” I ask, giggling a little.
   “Yep,” he says, the p tickling my ear. “You smell so good, Kayla.” He moves my hair to one side and rubs his nose along the back of my neck a few times. Then he kisses me, and I shiver under his touch, goose bumps breaking out on my skin. He kisses me softly and slowly, his mouth moving lower down the middle of my back to the edge of my tank top then back up again. His mouth finds my shoulder, and he licks my skin. I don’t say anything. It takes everything I have to try to keep my breath even and avoid moaning in pleasure. It’s so erotic. He’s hard as a rock behind me, and I can feel it through his shorts, pushing against my ass. He moves his hands to the inside of my thighs and, palms flat, slowly pushes my legs further apart, my short denim skirt shifting higher.

   I tilt my head back at the thought of what he’s going to do and can feel the wetness soaking through my panties. I want him to touch me—any part of me—so badly. He moves his left hand higher on my stomach until it’s just under my breast and shifts his right hand up my thigh. My body shakes with anticipation. He softly cups my breast, and I groan from the feel of it. His fingers graze the outside of my panties right there. He strokes me a couple of times through the material before he stops and exhales heavily.
   “Fuck,” he mutters, more to himself than to me. “You’re soaked, Kayla.”
   “What do you expect?” I breathe out. “You’re touching me.”
   He groans softly then moves my panties aside to slip a finger in. My mouth instantly goes dry, and I begin panting, my chest heaving.
   “Shit,” he growls, removing his hands. I whimper at the loss. “Kayla,” he says hoarsely, his hands on either side of him now.
   It takes me awhile to find my voice and calm down. “Mmm?” I finally get out. I turn my head to the side. His face is within an inch of mine—he could whisper in my ear.
   “I think . . . I think that maybe I’m falling—”
   “Yo, asshole!”
   Logan.
   “Fuck,” we both say.
 
 
THIRTY
     MIKAYLA
       “It’s official. I’m going to be a homeless, jobless college student,” I moan, picking at my fries. Jake and I are sitting at a picnic table near the concession stand at the batting cages. His friends came with us to the cages, too. “Maybe I should defer for a year and work full-time to save up some money?” I ask, more to myself than anything.
   He looks at me for a while. “You don’t have any other choice? Surely there’s financial aid or something.”
   “It’s too late for that. College starts in a month.” I’m sad. I’ve looked into my options, and they’re all dead ends.
   Lucy and Cam come to sit with us. Heidi is watching Dylan bat while Logan pitches to him. He’s no Jake.
   “What are we talking about?” Cam asks, stealing one of my fries. I shove the whole thing at him. I’m too depressed to eat.
   “About how I’ll experience college while living on the street, panhandling for cash.” I pout, watching the others at the cages.
   “Why don’t you just—” Cam starts before cutting himself off.
   I turn back to him, and he’s looking away. I look at Lucy and Jake, but they won’t look at me. “Why don’t I just what?” I ask them.
   “Um, I was going to say . . .” Cam stumbles over his words for a while, obviously trying to think of something to say. “Stripper! You could totally be a stripper.”
   Lucy smacks her palm on his forehead. “You, my dear Cameron, are a pig!” He flinches and rubs his forehead. Everyone chuckles for a bit.
   “You guys may laugh now, but I might end up having to do just that,” I say.
   Jake stops laughing instantly.
            JAKE
                  “Hey, so there’s something I need to talk to you about.” I lightly kick Kayla’s bare leg. It’s late afternoon, a couple of hours after we got home from the cages. She’s lying on a towel in the grass in a white bikini, hot as hell.
   She sits up and moves her sunglasses to the top of her head. I sit down in front of her with my legs stretched out and pull her toward me so she’s straddling my legs. She’s close enough so I can look at her and maybe touch her a little, but not so close that my junk is touching hers. She looks at me and waits.