Being Kalli(70)

“We’re talking about it,” her mum says.

“Dad?” Scout asks. “Anything?”

Please, is what she really says.

“Oh, Scout. We’re happy you told us. You know that.”

Just as I start to roll my eyes at how much of a lie “we” and “us” is, Scout’s mum proves me right. She crosses her arms over the table. She looks so calm, so serious. “I don’t know why you’d say this. I’m sure your friend, Steph, is sorely embarrassed. Anyway, what did you want to tell us?”

Scout lets out a quick sigh, and scrapes her chair back as she pushes out. Yup, this is it. The moment it all goes horribly wrong.

Scout gives me a look, so I don’t dare say bye. I just follow. Quietly.

Nate takes my hand, and squeezes. As we walk out, Scout first, Steph trailing, me behind Steph, Nate following me, he rubs shapes along my skin, holding our arms virtually straight so his knuckles graze my ass as we weave between chairs, and my knuckles graze his inner thigh. It’s so intimate without a kiss or nudity—just a private moment between us—and I can’t help but sweep my gaze up and give him a fleeting look.

He knows.

I appreciate him.

I need him.

I love him.

Seeing Scout free with no chains hiding her true self, able to start living how she wants to—I want that, and I want it with Nate.

Tonight.





26




At my house, Nate and I are linked by a few fingers as we run on tiptoe to my room. I feel like a sixteen-year-old sneaking a boy in through my window in the middle of the night—but I was never that type of girl anyway. Luckily, it’s now past nine and the boys are in bed, and so is Mum.

When we get to my bedroom door, Nate reaches for my hips and pulls me against him. I run my fingers up the back of his hair, letting my elbows rest just behind his shoulders, pressing his chest to me. His face comes down to meet mine, his lips skimming my cheek to find my lips. I run my hand along the wall behind me and flip on the light.

At the same time as my room illuminates, Nate throws his forearm over his eyes. A moment, two, I wait for his reaction, dreading that he just wants lights off and to fuck me. That I made a mistake by turning the lights on so we could see each other, remember the visual details.

He removes his arm, squinting, and finally allowing his lids to stay open, drinking in my expression like maybe I’m warm milk. And then, a smile. I lose myself in his pale eyes. My legs don’t exist, and it’s like an abyss is sucking me away, I’m only left with the part of my thoughts that are here in the moment. His elbow bends behind my back, trapping one side of me to him, and his hand comes to cup the back of my neck. With his grip, he tilts my head up. My neck feels gooey. If it weren’t for him, I’d be a puddle, like my slack muscles feel they are.

So this is what it’s like to let go.

This is what it feels like to let your lover take care of you.

“Hey, Kall Bell,” he whispers in my ear.

I smile against his cheek, then pull back to look at him.

Bringing my hands to his neck, I fan out my fingers, keeping my touch light, yet whole, possessive, yet wanting. He’s mine. We’re each other’s, and we still feel the same as we did on our date.

I sigh at the thought.

His hot fingers seep a stream of desire into me at his contact and my head lolls back to let out a moan. I slump into the crook of his neck and whisper, “You’re my undoing.”

I feel his breathed words in my ear, more than hear, “Love hearing that,” as he leans over me to dim the light.

Right, he’s adjusting the mood, not shutting me out.

Nate drops his hand, searching for mine, and leads me to my bed.

I register that I still have a pile of clothes from Scout and I in a couple of bundles here and there, and there’s definitely a shoe in his path, but the thought is gone as soon as I think it and the worry never fazes me.

At my bed, he grips my waist and pulls me over on the cover. “We don’t have to,” he says. “I want to lie with you.”

“I made something for you again.”

I flip on the bedside lamp, feel for my iPhone and headphones on my bedside table, and bring it with me to the centre of the bed. Nate feels where my hands are in between us. He touches the corners of my eyes, my rounded cheeks, my lips.

He says, “You’ve planned something again, you naughty girl.”

I can feel the shape of his grin as well as faintly see it, and I know he’s loving the prospect of a surprise despite him always saying he likes to know things. “True. But you have to lie back to receive it.”

“Kall, I said I don’t exp—”

“And I’m offended you assume I’m going to do that.”