This Girl Read online

  Our mouths collide so forcefully; she almost falls backward into the shower. I brace my hand against the shower wall with one arm, then pick her up around the waist with the other arm, lifting her over the lip of the tub. I shove her up against the wall, the water from the showerhead falling between us. We’re both breathing heavily and I pull her as close against me as she can possibly get while her fingers tug and pull at my hair. My chest heaves with each breath I inhale as we frantically grab and pull and stroke every inch of each other within arm’s reach.

  I pull her bra up and over her head, then throw it behind me. My hand slides down to the small of her back, my fingers tracing a trail just inside the back of her jeans. She moans and arches her back, pressing herself harder against me. My fingers slowly slide around to the front of her jeans and I lower her zipper. Her pants are soaked, so it takes effort getting them off her, but I eventually do.

  I slide my hand all the way up her thigh and I’m met with nothing but smooth skin. I grin against her lips. “Commando, huh?”

  She doesn’t waste any time pulling my mouth back to hers. I’ve been standing directly in the stream of water, so my clothes are soaked, making them more challenging to remove than hers were. Especially since she won’t release me for a second longer than needed to pull off my shirt. Once my shirt is successfully gone, I lean back into her. She moans into my mouth when our bare skin collides, forcing me to immediately dispose of my pants as well. She grabs them out of my hand and tosses them over my shoulder, then pulls me against her. I reach down and grab her right leg behind the knee and I pull it up to my side.

  She smiles. “Now this is how I pictured our first shower together,” she says.

  I take her bottom lip between my teeth, and I give her the best damn shower she’s ever had.

  •••

  “HOLY CRAP,” SHE says, falling onto the bed. “That was intense.”

  Her arms are relaxed above her head, her robe open just far enough to keep my imagination in check. I sit down beside her and stroke her cheek, then run my hand down her neck. She shivers against my touch. I bend over and press my lips to her collarbone. “There’s just something about this spot,” I say, teasing her neck. “From here . . .” I kiss up her collarbone until I get to the curve in her neck. “To here.” I kiss back down again. “It drives me insane.”

  She laughs. “I can tell. You can’t keep your mouth off it. Most guys prefer the ass or the boobs. Will Cooper prefers the neck.”

  I shake my head, disagreeing with her while I continue running my lips across her incredibly smooth skin. “Nope,” I say. “Will Cooper prefers the whole Lake.”

  I tug at the tie on her robe until it loosens between my fingertips. I slide my hand inside the robe and graze her stomach with my fingers. She squirms beneath my hand and laughs.

  “Will, you can’t be serious. It hasn’t even been three minutes.”

  I ignore her and kiss the chills that are breaking out on her shoulder. “You remember the first time I couldn’t resist kissing your neck?” I whisper against her skin.

  the (first) mistake

  IT’S BEEN THREE weeks since Julia told me she was sick, but from watching Lake and listening to Kel on a daily basis, I know she still hasn’t told them. I’ve spoken to Julia a few times, but only in passing. She doesn’t seem to want to bring it up again, so I give her that respect.

  Having Lake in third period hasn’t gotten any easier. I’ve learned how to adapt and focus more on what I’m teaching, but the fact that she’s still just feet from me every day still has the same emotional impact. Every morning she comes to class, I try to watch for any hints or signs that Julia may have revealed everything to her, but every day is the same. She never raises her hand or speaks, and I make it a point never to call on her. I make it a point not to even look at her. It’s been getting harder now that Nick seems to be marking his territory. I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t help but wonder if they’re dating. I haven’t seen him at her house but I’ve noticed they sit together at lunch. She always seems to be in a good mood around him. Gavin would know, but as far as he knows I’ve moved on, so I can’t ask him. I really shouldn’t even care . . . but I can’t help it.

  I’m running late when I get to class. When I walk in, the first thing I notice is Nick turned toward Lake. She’s laughing again. She’s always laughing at his stupid jokes. I like seeing her laugh, but I also hate that he’s the reason she’s laughing. It immediately puts me in a bad mood, so I decide to cancel the lecture I had planned and give a poetry writing assignment instead. After I lay out the rules and everyone begins on their assignment, I take a seat at my desk. I try to focus on completing a lesson plan, but I can’t help but notice Lake hasn’t written a single word. I know she doesn’t have a problem with the material in class. In fact, she’s had the best grades since the day she enrolled. Her lack of effort on this assignment makes me wonder if she has the same concentration problems during third period that I have.

  I glance up from staring at the blank paper on her desk and she’s staring right at me. My heart catches in my throat and the same emotional and physical responses I try so hard to squelch are suddenly consuming me again. It’s the first eye contact we’ve had in three weeks. I try to look away, but I can’t. She doesn’t reveal any hint of emotion in her expression. I wait for her to look away, but instead she stares at me with the same intensity that I’m sure I’m returning in my own stare. This silent exchange between us causes my pulse to race just as fiercely as it did when I kissed her.

  When the bell rings, I force myself out of my chair and walk to the door to hold it open. When everyone’s gone, including Lake, I slam it shut.

  What the hell am I thinking? That twenty seconds of whatever the hell that was negated my entire last three weeks of effort. I lean against the door and kick it out of frustration.

  •••

  AS SOON AS I reach the parking lot after school, I see that the hood to Lake’s Jeep is open. I look around, hoping someone else is around to assist her instead. I really don’t need to be alone with her right now, especially after what happened in my classroom this morning. I’m finding it harder and harder to resist the thought of her, and this current predicament has trouble written all over it.

  Unfortunately, I’m the only one around. I can’t just leave her here stranded in a parking lot. I’m sure it would be just as easy to turn around and head inside before she notices me. Someone else will help her eventually. Despite my hesitation, I keep walking forward. When I near her vehicle, she’s bludgeoning the battery with a crowbar.

  “That’s not a good idea,” I say. I’m hoping she doesn’t bust through the battery before I reach her. She spins around and looks at me, eyeing me up and down, then returns her focus back under the hood like she never even saw me.

  “You’ve made it clear that you don’t think a lot of what I do is a very good idea,” she says firmly. She’s obviously not happy to see me, which is just more confirmation that I should turn around and walk away.

  But I don’t.

  I can’t.

  I reluctantly walk closer and peer under the hood. “What’s wrong, it won’t crank?” I check the connections on the battery and inspect the alternator.

  “What are you doing, Will?” She has an edgy, almost annoyed tone to her voice. I lift my head out from under the hood and look at her. Her features are hard. It’s obvious she’s put up an invisible wall between us, which is probably a good thing. She seems offended that I’m even offering to help her.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I break our stare and quickly turn my attention back to the battery cable. “I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with your Jeep,” I say. I walk around to the door and attempt to turn the ignition. When it doesn’t crank, I turn to exit the Jeep and she’s standing right next to me. I’m quickly reminded what it feels like to be in such close proximity to her. I hold my breath and fight back the urge to grab her by
the waist and pull her into the Jeep with me.

  “I mean, why are you doing this? You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t want me to speak to you,” she says.

  Her obvious annoyance at my presence almost makes me regret having decided to help her after all. “Layken, you’re a student stranded in the parking lot. I’m not going to get in my car and just drive away.” As soon as the words escape my lips, I regret them. She draws her chin in and glances away, shocked at my impersonal words.

  I sigh and get out of the car. “Look, that’s not how I meant it,” I say as I reach back under the hood.

  She steps closer to me and leans against the Jeep. I watch her out of the corner of my eye while I pretend to fidget with more wires. She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth and stares at the ground, a saddened expression across her face. “It’s just been really hard, Will,” she says quietly. The softness in her voice now is even more painful to hear than the edginess. I inhale, afraid of what she’s about to confess. She takes a deep breath like she’s hesitating to finish her sentence, but continues anyway. “It was so easy for you to accept this and move past it. It hasn’t been that easy for me. It’s all I think about.”

  Her confession and the honesty in her voice cause me to wince. I grip the edge of the hood and turn toward her. She’s looking down at her hands with a troubled expression on her face. “You think this is easy for me?” I whisper.

  She glances at me and shrugs. “Well, that’s how you make it seem,” she says.

  Now would be the opportune moment to walk away. Walk away, Will.

  “Lake, nothing about this has been easy,” I whisper. I know beyond a doubt that I shouldn’t be saying any of the things I’ve been dying to say to her, but everything about her draws the truth out of me whether I want to share it or not. “It’s a daily struggle for me to come to work, knowing this very job is what’s keeping us apart.” I turn away from the car and lean against it, next to her. “If it weren’t for Caulder, I would have quit that first day I saw you in the hallway. I could have taken the year off . . . waited until you graduated to go back.” I turn toward her and lower my voice. “Believe me, I’ve run every possible scenario through my mind. How do you think it makes me feel to know that I’m the reason you’re hurting? That I’m the reason you’re so sad?”

  I just said way too much. Way too much.

  “I . . . I’m sorry,” she stutters. “I just thought—”

  “Your battery is fine,” I say as soon as I see Nick round the car next to us. “Looks like it might be your alternator.”

  “Car won’t start?” Nick says.

  Layken looks at me wide-eyed, then turns around to face Nick. “No, Mr. Cooper thinks I need a new alternator.”

  “That sucks,” Nick says as he glances under the hood. He looks back up at Lake. “I’ll give you a ride home if you need one.”

  As much as I’d rather punch him than let him take her home, I know it’s her only option right now because I sure as hell don’t need to take her home.

  “That would be great, Nick,” I say. I shut the hood of the Jeep and walk away before I add to my long list of stupid decisions.

  •••

  I SHOULD JUST pull the list of stupid decisions back out, because I’m making another one right now.

  We’ve spent the last fifteen minutes frantically searching for Kel and Caulder. I’d assumed they were at her house, she had assumed they were at mine. We finally found them passed out in the backseat of my car, where they still are.

  Now, I’m rummaging through my satchel, searching for the keys to her Jeep. I had my mechanic put a new alternator on it this afternoon, then stupidly invited her inside to give her the keys back. I say stupidly, because every ounce of my being doesn’t want her to leave. My heart is pounding against my chest just being in her presence. I locate the keys and turn around to hand them to her. “Your keys,” I say, dropping them into her hand.

  “Oh, thanks,” she says, looking down at them. I’m not sure what she expected me to hand her, but she seems disappointed that it’s just her keys.

  “It’s running fine now,” I say. “You should be able to drive it home tomorrow.” I’m hoping she’ll be the strong one right now and just leave. I can’t bring myself to walk her back to the door, so I make my way back into the living room and sit on the couch. The conversation at her Jeep this afternoon lingers silent and thick in the air between us.

  “What? You fixed it?” she says, following me into the living room.

  “Well, I didn’t fix it. I know a guy who was able to put an alternator on it this afternoon.”

  “Will, you didn’t have to do that,” she says. Rather than leave like we both know she should, she sits on the couch beside me. When her elbow grazes mine, I bring my hands up and clasp them behind my head. We can’t even graze elbows without my wanting to reach over and kiss the hell out of her.

  “Thanks, though. I’ll pay you back.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You guys have helped me a lot with Caulder lately, it’s the least I can do.”

  She looks down at her hand and twirls the keys around. She runs her thumb over the Texas-shaped keychain and I can’t help but wonder if she’d still rather be there right now.

  “So, can we finish our conversation from earlier?” she says, still staring down at the keychain.

  I already regret having said what I said at her Jeep today. I confessed way too much. I can’t believe I told her I would have quit my job if it weren’t for Caulder. I mean, it’s the truth. As crazy and desperate as it sounds, I would have quit in a heartbeat. I’m not so sure I still wouldn’t if she would just ask me to.

  “That depends,” I say. “Did you come up with a solution?”

  She shakes her head and looks up at me. “Well, no,” she says. She tosses her keys onto the coffee table and pulls her knee up, turning to face me on the couch. She sighs, almost as if she’s afraid to ask me something. She runs her fingers over the throw pillow between us and traces the pattern without looking up at me. “Suppose these feelings we have just get more . . . complex.” She hesitates for a moment. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of getting a GED.”

  Her plan is so absurd I almost have to hold back a laugh. “That’s ridiculous,” I say, shooting a look in her direction. “Don’t even think like that. There’s no way you’re quitting school, Lake.”

  She tosses the pillow aside. “It was just an idea,” she says.

  “Well, it was a dumb one.”

  Things grow quiet between us. The way she’s turned toward me on the couch causes every muscle in my body to clench, even my jaw. I’m trying so hard not to turn toward her, to take her in my arms. This entire situation isn’t fair. If we were in any other circumstances, a relationship between us would be absolutely fine. Accepted. Normal. The only thing keeping us apart is a damn job title.

  It’s so hard having to hide how I feel about her when it’s just the two of us. It would be so easy to just say “To hell with it,” and do what I want to do. I know if I could just get past the moral aspect and the threat of getting caught, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d take her in my arms and kiss her just like I’ve been imagining for the past three weeks. I’d kiss her mouth, I’d kiss her cheek, I’d kiss that line from her ear down to her shoulder that I can’t stop staring at. She’d let me, too. I know how hard this has been on her; I can see it in the way she carries herself now. She’s depressed. I’m almost tempted to make all of this easier on her and just act on my feelings. If neither of us says anything, no one would know. We could do this secretly until she graduated. If we were careful, we could even keep it from Julia and the boys.

  I pop my knuckles behind my head in order to distract myself from pulling her mouth to mine. My heart is erratic just thinking about the possibility of kissing her again. I inhale through my nose and out my mouth, trying to physically calm myself before I do something stupid. Or smart. I can’t tell what’s right or wrong when I’
m around her because what’s wrong feels so right and what’s right feels so wrong.

  Her finger grazes across my neck and the unexpected touch causes me to flinch. She defensively holds up her finger to show me the shaving cream she just wiped off my neck. Without even thinking, I grab her hand to wipe it onto my shirt.

  Big mistake.

  As soon as my fingers touch hers, whatever conscious thoughts remained get wiped away right along with the shaving cream. My hand remains clasped on top of hers and she relaxes it onto my chest.

  I’ve reached the threshold of my willpower. My pulse is racing, my heart feels like it’s about to explode. I can’t let go of her hand and I can’t stop looking into her eyes. In this moment, absolutely nothing is happening, but then again everything is happening. Every single second I silently look at her, holding on to her hand, erases days of willpower and determination I spent keeping my distance. Every ounce of energy I’ve put into doing the right thing has all been in vain.

  “Will?” she whispers without breaking her gaze. The way my name flows from her lips makes my pulse go haywire. She strokes her thumb ever so slightly across my chest—a movement she may not have even been aware of, but one that I feel all the way to my core. “I’ll wait for you,” she says. “Until I graduate.”

  As soon as the words come from her lips, I exhale and close my eyes. She just said what I’ve wanted to hear from her for an entire month. I stroke my thumb across the back of her hand and sigh. “That’s a long wait, Lake. A lot can happen in a year.”

  She scoots closer to me on the couch. She removes her hand from my chest and lightly touches my jaw with the tips of her fingers, pulling my gaze back to hers. I refuse to look into her eyes. I know if I do, I’ll give in and kiss her. I slide my fingers down her hand with every intention of stopping at her wrist to pull her hand from my face. Instead, my fingers trail past her wrist and slowly graze up the length of her arm. I need to stop. I need to pull back, but my willpower and my heart are suddenly at war.

  I pull my legs off the coffee table in front of me. I’m hoping she pushes me away from her—does what we both know one of us needs to do. When she doesn’t, I find myself drawing in closer. I just want to put my arms around her and hold her. I want to hold her like I held her outside Club N9NE before all of this became out of our control. Before it became this overwhelming, convoluted mess.

  Before I can stop myself or give myself time to think about it—my lips meet her neck, and all hell breaks loose inside me. She wraps her arms around me and inhales a breath deep enough for the both of us. The feel and taste of her skin against my lips is enough to completely wipe away the rest of my conscience.

  To hell with it.

  I kiss across her collarbone, up her neck and to her jaw, then take her face in my hands and pull back to look her in the eyes. I need to know we’re on the same page. I need to know that she wants this as bad as I do. That she needs this as bad as I do.

  The sadness in her eyes that has consumed her for the past three weeks is nonexistent right now. There’s hope in her eyes again, and I want nothing more than to somehow help her maintain whatever it is she’s feeling right now. I slowly lean in and press my lips against hers. The sensation from the kiss both kills me and brings me back to life in the same breath. She quietly gasps, then parts her lips for me, taking a fist of my shirt in her hands, gently pulling me closer.

  I kiss her.

  I kiss her like it’s the first time I’ve ever kissed her.

  I kiss her like it’s the last time I’ll ever kiss her.