Raging Heart On_ Friends to Lovers Romance(58)
“You’re a really good kisser, White Hall Lucas,” she says with an innocence-filled blush. How a woman can be nearing thirty years of age and still, in most ways, remain untouched or spoiled from the world is beyond me.
“You do get I hate that name, right?” I decide to joke with her to break up the atmosphere between us that seems way too thick with emotion.
“I’ve always liked your name. It’s very… stately.”
“Stately?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I was named after the color of the hallway that my parents thought would be a good place to get frisky.”
“Get frisky?”
“That’s as much as I want to think about my parents like that.”
“Do you remember your father at all?”
“Not so much. By the time Cyan was born, he was just a memory—and not a very good one. Mom never talked about him. We moved here to get away from her memories more than anything else.”
“He never tried to reach out to any of you?”
“Nope. Not once.”
“That sucks,” Kayla says.
“Maybe for a while it did. Now? It is what it is. Nothing can be done to change it, and it’s sure not something I want to think about when I have my woman all to myself.”
“I like it when you call me your woman.”
“That’s good, because you are. In fact, I think it’s time we invoke the ancient Lucas tradition.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask, though I should warn you if it involves sacrificing virgins, I don’t think I qualify.”
“Shhh! I don’t want to think about the men who came before me.”
“Good Lord, you can’t be serious.”
“Very. It pisses me off that I was stupid enough not to grab you up sooner.”
“White…” Before she can question me further, I stop her with a quick kiss, then pull her up to stand with me.
“It’s time to put our names on the Mighty Oak.”
“You want to carve our names on the tree?”
“Of course. You know yourself. Whenever one of us finds the one they want to keep—or at least think we have—we put our name on the tree.”
“Your name has to be on there a million times.”
“Nope, not once. The Mighty Oak is sacred.”
“Not so sacred. I’m pretty sure Green put Cynthia’s name on there, Petal has Luka, and Cyan… well…”
“Green was an idiot. He doesn’t count. Though, to be fair, he did love that bitch. Petal still loves Luka. I keep hoping they’ll work things out.”
“I do too.”
“Cyan would surprise you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the five times he’s put his name on the tree,” I tell her, feeling comfortable telling her something only Cyan has ever shared with me. She looks at the tree for a few minutes and then looks back at me confused.
“You know I never noticed it much before, but the girlfriends that Cyan has been crazy about have all had names that begun with the letter A. Is that what you mean? I remember Angela. Ugh, I hated her. Then there was Amy, Alex, and Audrey…”
“Look at the tree though, honey. What do you see?”
“C loves A,” she says. She’s right too. That’s all that’s on the tree and it’s on there about seven times. She’s also right that the only time Cyan even pretends to be a little serious, the girls are all named with the letter A, but they also have blonde hair, wear glasses, and keep their hair pulled away from their face.
“Who else do you know now that Cyan has feelings for that has a name that starts with the letter A?” I prompt her again.
“Alice? Really? But he’s been writing on this tree since he was fifteen.”
“Yep, and all of these girls are blondes with glasses, just like…”
“Oh, wow. I kind of hurt for Cyan. All that unrequited love for all those years. How painful.”
“Look at those names, Buttercup. I don’t think a lot of suffering was involved.”
“But it was. Sex with someone you don’t truly care about? White, it’s just sex,” she says sadly, and something twists inside of me. Maybe once I would have argued with her, but since having Kayla… I’m a believer. What Kayla and I have been doing is better than anything I’ve ever experienced before—and sex is just a small part of that. “Can’t he put away that part of himself to be with Alice? If he loves her that much—”
“You can’t deny what makes you happy for someone else, Buttercup. If you do, you just make everyone miserable,” I tell her and I find myself running my fingers through her hair again. It’s become a habit, one I have no intention of ever stopping. Her face pales and then she looks up at me with such sweet honesty that her eyes seem to reach down inside of me.