When I look at the screen, it displays a new post on Hayes’s Facebook page. And this one is meant for me.
ANSWER:
I knew I loved @SweetChks in this tree house. She thought I wanted to be with the cool senior girls when all I wanted was to look at the stars with her. Or maybe that was just my excuse to get closer to her. I knew it again, thirteen years later, when we came back here on the way home. I never told her the words though. Third time’s a charm. I wonder if she knows where to find me so I can tell her this time?
#NotMovieRoleResearch #RealLife #RealLove #ShipsAhoy #ImWaiting
My eyes flash up to DeeDee’s, and I can’t get out of the chair or grab my car keys quick enough.
It’s dusk when I run down the path to the old tree house. I bypass the house and Ryder’s car in the driveway. My mind is focused on one thing—getting to Hayes. And the closer I get, the wider my eyes grow. The structure has a fresh coat of paint and the slatted steps have been replaced.
The tree house my dad built us way back when has never looked better and I can’t help but feel it’s fitting that it’s Hayes who has made it over. Almost as if by bringing me here, my father is somehow passing my hand from his to Hayes’s and telling him he better take good care of me.
Overwhelmed, I stand beneath it and stare for a moment. That first time Hayes climbed in there with me comes back to me. It’s funny how those butterflies are still in my stomach all this time later. And they grow stronger with each step up I take.
The door swings open before I can do it myself and there’s Hayes with his hand outstretched to help me the last little bit. He pulls me up and the funny thing is, this time I love the small confines of the tree house because that means he’s within arm’s reach wherever he sits.
“Hi,” I say and press my lips to his without preamble. And he reacts by kissing me back with that kind of soul-searing, toe-tingling, soft-but-demanding, desire-inducing, fingers in my hair, my hands sliding up his back, never-want-it-to-end kiss.
And when it does end, when I’m so soft and mushy with a firestorm of emotion that I just poured into the meeting of our mouths, Hayes leans back, brushes a lock of hair off my cheek, and smiles that shy smile of his that he reserves just for me.
“Hi, Ships.”
My smile widens to epic proportions. “You’re talking to me now?”
“I have a few things to say, yes.” He shrugs and brushes another tender kiss to my lips. “Thanks for meeting me here.”
“Thanks for asking me.”
“I wasn’t sure you were going to see the post.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “You kind of made me a social media junkie these past two weeks when I never was before. You see, there’s been this boy I like . . . and he’s been refusing to talk to me in person. But since he only talked to me online, I became one of those annoying people who look at their phone every five seconds.”
“Is that so?” His voice is coy. His expression feigned innocence.
“Mm-hmm.”
“You only just like him?”
I purse my lips. Scrunch my nose. Pretend that I have to think about it. “Hmm. More than like. Definitely love.”
He grants me a quick flash of a grin. “There’s frosting in your hair.” He reaches out and touches it before his eyes find mine again.
“Sorry.”
“I wouldn’t have you any other way. Don’t you know that yet?”
And those words.
Simple acceptance of who I am. It does funny things to my insides, or maybe it’s the man who said them that does.
I smile softly at him, reach down, and link my fingers with his. “Thank you.”
“No. You don’t need to thank me, Saylor. You should never have to apologize for being you. Because you . . . you’re beautiful and smart and sexy and defiant and creative and hot-headed and crazy-funny and spontaneous. I love every single one of those things about you, plus all the other things I forget until you do them and then that makes me remember them.” He smiles again and squeezes my hand. My heart swells. “I walked away ten years ago thinking I could forget you. That I could chase my dreams and move on. That first loves could never be last loves. God, how I was wrong. There’s something to be said for falling in love with someone you grew up with. I know all your flaws, Saylor. Your weaknesses. Your strengths. Your fears. Your mistakes. And I fucking love you for every single one of them. They make you, you. And in turn, they make us, us.”
“Hayes.” His name is a sigh of affection on my lips.
“No. Shh. I’m the actor, I get to hog the stage right now.” I laugh as he does. Know he’s joking and nod in agreement.