This Girl
Page 35

 Colleen Hoover

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Gavin picks up the sugar packet and throws it back at me. “We were here first.”
“Then deal with it,” I say.
The table grows quiet and it’s obvious Lake and Eddie have no idea Gavin and I are only kidding around.
“Personally,” Gavin says, leaning forward. “I thought you and Mrs. Alex made a much better couple.”
I shrug. “She shot me down. I had to go with my second choice,” I say, nudging my head toward Lake.
Lake scoffs at the same time the emcee begins speaking into the microphone.
“The sac has been preselected tonight, due to time constraints by the performer. Everyone please welcome Will Cooper back to the stage.”
The crowd starts clapping and I slide out of the seat. Lake arches her eyebrow. “Time constraints?” she says.
I bend down and press my lips to her ear. “I already told you we can’t stay long. We’ll be really, really, really busy after this.” I kiss her on the cheek and walk to the stage. I don’t even give myself time to prepare. I begin my poem as soon as I reach the microphone so that I don’t waste another second. “My piece is called The Gift. . . .”
If my dad were alive, he’d be sitting right there
Watching me up here, with a smile on his face
He’d be proud of the man I’ve become
He’d be proud that I stepped up to take his place
If my mother were alive, she’d be at home
Teaching my brother all the things she taught me
She’d be proud of the man I’ve become
She’d be proud of who I grew up to be
But they aren’t here. They haven’t been for a while.
It takes time, but it’s starting to make sense.
I still miss them every time I take a breath.
Their absence will never go unnoticed.
But every smile on your face seems to replace
A memory I’d rather not hold
Each time you laugh, it fills a void
Each kiss heals another wound in my soul
If my dad were here, he’d be sitting with you
He’d be hugging you . . . saying thank you.
Thank you for saving my boy.
Thank you for bringing light to his world.
If my mother were here, she’d be so happy
To finally have a daughter in her life
She’d love you as much as I love you
She’d make me promise to one day make you my wife
But they aren’t here. They haven’t been for a while.
But I can feel their pride. I can feel their smiles.
I can hear them say, “You’re welcome, Will.”
When I thank them for sending you from heaven.
AS SOON AS I return to the booth she’s trying to thank me with a hug, but instead I grab her hand and wave over my shoulder as I pull her to the exit. “See you guys later,” I say to Gavin and Eddie. I don’t even wait for them to say good-bye as we make our way to the door. I remain two steps in front of Lake the entire way back to the car, practically dragging her along behind me. I can’t think of anything but being alone with her tonight. We’re never alone and I need some uninterrupted, alone time with her before I go crazy.
When we reach the car, I practically shove her inside, then climb into the driver’s seat. I crank the car, then turn toward her and grab her shirt and pull her mouth to mine while I back out of the parking spot.
“Will, do you realize your car is moving?” she says, attempting to pull away from my grip. I glance out the rear window and cut the steering wheel to the right, then turn back to her.
“Yep. We need to hurry. You’ve got a curfew and that only gives us two more hours together.” I press my lips to hers again and she shoves my forehead back with the palm of her hand.
“Then stop kissing me and drive. It won’t be much fun making out with you when you’re dead.”
“PULL OVER,” SHE says, several houses down from my driveway.
“Why?”
“Just pull over. Trust me.”
I pull over and park the car on the side of the street. She leans across the seat and kisses me, then pulls the keys from the ignition. “If my mom sees your car, she’ll know we’re back. She told me to bring you to my house if we came home early. She doesn’t want us alone at your house. Let’s sneak in through your back door and we can come get your car later.”
I stare at her in awe. “I think I’m in love with your brain,” I say.
We both exit the car and run toward the back of the house we parked in front of. We make our way behind the fence, then crouch down and run across three backyards until we reach mine. I take the keys out of her hands and unlock the back door. Why do I feel like I’m breaking in? It’s my house.
“Don’t turn on the lights. She’ll know we’re back,” I say as I help her make her way through the darkened doorway.
“I can’t see,” she says.
I put my arm around her back and bend down, scooping her legs up with my other arm. “Allow me.”
She throws her arms around my neck and squeals. I walk her until we’ve reached the couch and gently lay her down. I take off my jacket and slip off my shoes, then reach down until I find her. I slide my hand down the length of her legs until I reach her feet, then I remove her shoes while she slips off her jacket.
“Anything else you need me to remove?” I whisper.
“Uh-huh. Your shirt.”
I immediately agree with that and pull my shirt over my head. “Why are we whispering?” I ask her.
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
The sound of her voice when she whispers . . . knowing she’s on her back . . . on my couch.
The significance of the next two hours is almost more than I can handle, knowing the things that could occur between us. I recognize that, so rather than lower myself on top of her, I kneel on the floor next to the couch. As much as I want her, I want to take it at her pace tonight, not mine. I tend to be extremely impatient when it comes to her.
I find her cheek in the dark and turn her face toward mine. When I touch her, her breath hitches. I feel it, too. I’ve touched her face countless times before, but somehow in the dark with absolutely no interruptions, it seems a hell of a lot more intimate.
She moves her hand to the back of my neck and I press my lips lightly against hers. They’re wet and cold and perfect, but as soon as I part her lips and taste her, perfect becomes the understatement of the year.
She responds to my kiss tentatively. We’re both slowly exploring our limits and I want to be sure I’m not taking it too fast this time. My hand remains on her cheek while we kiss, then I begin to slowly move it down her neck, trailing over her shoulder and down to her hip. Each movement I make only seems to encourage her, so I slip my hand underneath her shirt and grip her waist. I wait for any indication that she wants me to stop.
Or go further.
She presses her hands into my back, pulling me forward, indicating she wants me on the couch with her.
“Lake,” I say, pulling back several inches. “I can’t. If I get on this couch with you . . .” I release a deep breath. “Just trust me. I can’t get on this couch with you.”
She reaches down to my hand that’s still gripping her by the waist. She slides my hand up her stomach and doesn’t stop until my hand is covering the cup of her bra.
Holy shit.
“I want you on the couch with me, Will.”
I immediately pull my hand away, but only because I need her shirt off. I practically yank it over her head and immediately join her on the couch. As soon as I lower myself on top of her and feel her pressed against my chest, I kiss her again and return my hand right where she put it. She smiles and wraps her legs around me as I kiss my way down her chin, straight to her neck.
“I can feel your heartbeat right here,” I say, kissing the base of her throat. “I like it.”
She takes my hand and slips it beneath her bra this time. “You can feel it beating right here, too.”
I bury my face in the couch and groan. “Oh, my god, Lake.”
I want to touch her. I want to feel all of her. I don’t know what’s stopping me. Why the hell am I so nervous?
“Will?”
I pull my face away from the couch, very aware that my hand is still tucked safely beneath her bra. My hand has never been happier. “You want me to slow down? I will, Lake. Just tell me.”
She shakes her head and runs her hands down my back. “No. I want you to speed up.”
My hesitation immediately disappears with those words. I slide my hand around her back and unfasten her bra, then slide it down her shoulders. I drop my mouth to her skin and as soon as the softest moan escapes her lips, my hand finds its way back to where she planted it earlier. I lower my lips, then immediately freeze at the sound of a key turning in the front door.
“Shh.” About that time, the front door swings open and my living room light flicks on. I lift my head far enough to peer over the back of the couch and see Julia walking toward the hallway. I drop my head to Lake’s neck. “Shit. It’s your mom.”
“Shit,” she whispers, frantically pulling her bra back up. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I clamp my hand over her mouth. “She might not notice us. Be still.”
Our hearts are pounding now faster than they’ve ever pounded before. I know this, because my palm is still firmly planted right on top of Lake’s breast. Apparently she recognizes the awkwardness of the moment, too.
“Will, move your hand. This is weird.”
I pull my hand away. “What is she doing here?”
Lake shakes her head. “I have no idea.”
And that’s when it happens. I’ve heard people can see their lives flash before their eyes in the moments before death.
It’s true.
Julia walks back into the room and screams.
I jump off Lake.
Lake jumps off the couch and there it is. My entire life flashes before my eyes the moment Julia sees Lake standing in my living room, fastening her bra.
“It’s just us,” I blurt out. I don’t know why I chose those words to be my possible last words. Julia is standing with her hand over her mouth, staring at us wide-eyed. “It’s just us,” I say again, as if she doesn’t already know that.
“I was . . .” Julia holds up Caulder’s pillow. “Caulder wanted his pillow,” she says. She looks back and forth between us and in a split second, her expression turns from fear to anger. I immediately reach down and retrieve Lake’s shirt, then hand it to her.
“Mom,” Lake says. She doesn’t follow it up with anything else because she has no idea what to say.
“Go home,” Julia says to Lake.
“Julia,” I say to Julia.
“Will?” Julia says to me, cutting a warning shot in my direction. “I’ll deal with you later.”
As soon as the words come out of Julia’s mouth, Lake’s face turns from embarrassed to really, really angry. “Mom, we’re adults! You can’t talk to him like that!” Lake yells. “And you can’t prevent us from making out! This is ridiculous.”
I grab Lake’s elbow in an attempt to calm her down. “Don’t, babe,” I say quietly.