Trust(37)

The couple in the book wouldn't get their act together. So very annoying.

A voice at the window said my name.

"John?"

Without waiting for an invitation, he climbed right on in. I shuffled back to give him room on my bed. Converse tucked beneath him and hands on his knees, he sat, looking down at me. Studying me. Given my usual patience levels, I could only take about ten seconds of his silence.

"What's wrong?" I asked, setting my book aside.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

He swallowed hard. "I did want to come in and hang out with you earlier, but . . ."

"But what? Why didn't you then?"

Instead of speaking, he kissed me.

Of course, I kissed him back. Of course I did.

Holy shit. Our mouths moved against each other, his hands cradling my face. This was what I'd needed, what I'd been waiting for without even really knowing. His skin on mine, his breath on my face. I couldn't get close enough, no matter how I tried. Eyes hazy and lips wet, he kissed me slow and sweet. It seemed endless, as necessary to life as breathing.

Then, faces only inches apart, we just stared at each other.

I had nothing. No words at all.

Fingertips slid over my cheek, along my jaw. He swallowed hard. "Hey."



       
         
       
        

"Hi."

"I was going to head back to Anders's place."

I nodded. "You said."

"Couldn't bring myself to go."

"You've been out there this whole time?"

His expression seemed bewildered and yet amused. Amazed even. The light in his eyes like he was almost laughing. "Must have looked like a goddamn stalker."

"Are you drunk or high?"

"No. I had a few beers earlier, but they've pretty much worn off now."

Huh. "You stared at my house, then climbed in the window and kissed me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

His brows rose. "I don't know. 'Cause it was the only thing that made sense. I just, I keep thinking about that night with you at my place."

"You do?"

"It's like I can't get it out of my head."

"I think about it too," I said. "Maybe we both need lobotomies."

"The sex wasn't even that good," he said somewhat bluntly. "'Specially not for you."

"That's not true."

He just gave me a look.

"Well," I hedged. "I mean, I think it was probably as good as it could have been. For me."

"It can be a lot better. I promise," he said. "Anytime you want a do-over, just let me know."

I smiled. "I am glad it was with you."

He smiled too. Then he tucked my hair behind my ear, softly running his thumb over the new scar cutting across my forehead. "Hate how that asshole hurt you."

"You got hurt too. You got shot."

His smile morphed into something altogether more serious. "Yeah. But I should have been able to protect you."

"Don't," I said. "We both got out alive. That's what matters."

"Hmm."

Head tilted, he placed his mouth against mine. It was just that easy, falling back into our kiss. This time he led me down onto the mattress, onto my back. All without our lips separating for more than a moment. Bliss felt like this, his thumb running back and forth along my jawline, fingers resting on my neck. I touched his face and held back his hair. I kissed him deeper, trying to show him how much he meant to me, how much I cared.

Over the top of my tank, his hand stroked down my side, fingers straying close to my breast. Oh, man. It all felt so incredibly good. The hot and hard length of his body resting against mine. All sorts of obscene thoughts ran riot through my head. I wanted more and more. I wanted everything. Guess it was a problem with sex. Once you'd gone that far, the expectation would be to go there again. But I didn't know if I was ready. And I really didn't know what doing it with John a second time might mean. 

I broke away, breathing hard.

"It's alright," he said, pressing kisses to the side of my face. "We don't have to go any further."

"How did you know?"

"You stiffened up." He tucked his hair behind his ear. "It's okay. I'm good with just this."

"You are?"

"Yeah."

I frowned, embarrassed. "But you're used to having sex."

"It won't kill me, Edie," he said gently. "Relax."

Timid messed-up maiden, that was me. I slipped my hand beneath the sleeve of his shirt, curving my fingers around his non-injured shoulder. Touching him came naturally, I couldn't have stopped my fingers if I tried. Not that I was interested in trying. "One more uncomfortable question: What does this mean?"

"It means I like being here kissing you."

I let out a long breath. "Okay."

"Is that enough?"

"Yes," I said, because it was. For now. "Next time, don't stand out in the dark. Just come in, okay?"

His gaze softened. "Thanks. Don't know why I did that, why I couldn't just make up my mind. Maybe I really am going crazy."

"You're not crazy."

"Sure about that?" he asked.

"Yes. Well, mostly." Best to be truthful. "I think anyone who went through what we did is bound to come out of it a bit of a mess."

"Yeah." He laughed. "No idea when I slept last. Like, really slept."

"Then lie down." I rolled onto my side, facing him as he lay his head on the pillow next to mine. "Close your eyes."

He did as told for about a second. "Always feel like I'm wired. Like something's about to happen, I just don't know what."

"I get that too," I said. "Sort of like I'm on the edge of a panic attack. Just waiting."

"Weed helps sometimes. Not always."

"Mr. Solomon taught me a breathing technique. Lie on your back," I ordered, doing likewise. "Put one hand on your stomach and one hand on your chest."

"I'd rather put a hand on your chest. Probably wouldn't calm me down, though."

"Probably not. One on your stomach and one on your chest. Yours. As in, your own." I waited until he complied, watching him out of the corner of my eye. "Now, breathe in for three seconds through your nose. Then hold it for ten seconds before exhaling through your mouth."

Together, he and I did the breathing. Air rushing in, waiting, then air pushing out.

"Only the hand on your chest is supposed to be moving. Oh, and you're supposed to think ‘relax' as you exhale," I said. "Go again."

"This is what your mom pays that shrink a fortune for?"

"Shut up and breathe." I inhaled, holding it in, trying to think peaceful thoughts. Then let it all out.

"How long do we do this for?" he asked, breathing in deeply.

"As long as it takes. Keep going."

I switched off the lamp, watching the outline of him in the dark, waiting for my night vision to kick in. With the required rhythm, his chest rose and fell. Then I realized he still had his shoes on. Not so comfortable. Dealing with the laces made things tricky and he might have laughed at me just a bit for fumbling around in the dark. But whatever.

"Close your eyes and concentrate," I said.

"They're closed." A few minutes later, he yawned, and whispered, "I'll go before your mom gets home."



       
         
       
        

"Okay." I lay down beside him, listening to his breathing, feeling a cool breeze blow in through the open window. Everything was perfect.

Turned out, we both fell asleep just fine.





"Edith Rose Millen!"

"Wha-" I mumbled, doing my best to wake.

Light blinded me, John's long body shifting against my back. There in my doorway stood Mom, cheeks slashed with red and fury blazing in her eyes. And strangely enough, Matt, her old ex-boyfriend, was standing in my room too.

"What the hell is going on here?" yelled Mom, towering over the two of us.

Shit, shit, shit. "Mom. I can-"

"You can what?" Her gaze darted between me and John, finally settling on him. "Oh my God, is that the boy from the Drop Stop? It is."

"Ma'am. I . . ." John hastily retracted the arm he'd had wrapped around my waist, the leg he'd had thrown over one of mine. I couldn't look at him. Embarrassment swallowed me whole and spat me back out just for fun.

"He's my friend." I sat up, rubbing my eyes.

"He's your friend?" mom parroted, anger filling every word.

"Yes."

Matt stepped forward, putting a hand on Mom's lower back. "Easy."

She threw him a foul look before returning to the problem at hand. Me. "Edie, you have exactly ten seconds to explain this before you're grounded for life. Hell, you're grounded for life anyway."

And I don't know, I just . . . didn't really care. Not in the way I should have. Now, with my mind mostly awake, the drama didn't seem so soul-crushingly huge.

"He's my friend, Mom, and he's important to me. Very important." Best male friend at any rate. Hang would understand. "I realize this looks bad and I'm not supposed to have people over, let alone have a boy in bed with me. But his pants are on and so are mine. So please calm down."