His hand slides up my shirt, ready to fulfill my request, and I moan in anticipation as he touches the part of me I won't have next week. It feels so much better than I imagined—so much better.
"If you need me to stop or slow down, just say it," he whispers against my lips before reaching down to the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head in a slow, gentle motion, letting his lips touch mine again before the shirt is fully gone.
I don't want to go to college and let someone I don't know have this piece of me. I don't want to wait until I can't have the full effect. I want it all, and I want it with the boy I love and trust the most.
"You're not going to hate me after this, are you?" he asks, kissing me at the corner of my mouth as his hand slowly finds my right breast again, making that strangled moan slip free.
"I could never hate you," I whisper, struggling to breathe. "We'll be friends—like we are now. It's just one night. Please, tell me we'll still be friends."
A slight haze forms over his eyes, and for a second, I almost think it's disappointment. What have I done wrong?
I start to question it, when he says, "Always, Rain. You'll always have me in your life."
I smile, feeling myself relax in his arms, and he pulls me close, gently nipping at my skin with his lips, stroking the soft flesh with his tongue, and gripping me tightly to him as we prepare to surrender this once.
This will more than likely be my one and only night with the boy I've loved since I was thirteen. I'm damn sure going to enjoy every second of it.
***
Fall Farewells
I kept hoping our one night in Cancun would somehow make Dane fall in love with me, but nothing has changed—just as we both promised it wouldn't. The next day, I woke up in Dane's arms, but it was the same as all the times before when I had woken up in his arms.
He didn't lean down and kiss me the way he had the night before. Instead, he had kissed me on the cheek. Like a friend.
It wasn't anything like I'd seen in the movies where the girls scream, flail around like crazy fools, and then huff and puff before passing out, but I felt... alive. For the first time in my life, I felt connected to the world instead of like I was just floating.
I'd give anything to feel that way again.
I've had three reconstructive surgeries so far. Fortunately, it's nothing as terrible as what I had originally imagined. The scars are gradually fading, my chest looks almost normal, and though they're not as sensitive as they were before, my breasts still have feeling.
So far, everything looks good. The only problem... That one night with Dane cemented my feelings for him. I love him. Need him. Want him as more than just a friend.
I've finally decided to do it, though I'm still a little bit chicken. Instead of professing my undying love to him to his face, I wrote a letter. I'm more articulate on paper anyway.
If he loves me, or if he even wants to try to love me, all he has to do is respond. I won't bug the hell out of him or ever mention this again. I'll always be his friend no matter what he says, but I'm putting the ball in his court by laying all my feelings out there for him to have or reject.
Everyone is meeting with me to eat at Beach Grill one last time before I leave for college tomorrow. We've already set up schedules to make sure we see each other as much as humanly possible.
When I pull up to Beach Grill, I spot Dane's BMW. The top is up, thankfully, and I have the spare set of keys to unlock it. Before I lose my nerve, I open the door and gently place the letter on his seat, and then lock it back.
I stare through the window at the folded sheets of paper for a minute, half cringing/half giggling. This could be incredible or disastrous—depending on how he feels. I know he cares about me. I know he's attracted to me. So he has to say yes. Right?
Everyone in the entire school thought we were dating from the time we were thirteen. He always touches me more than anyone else does, further proving I'm not imagining the fact this is deeper than just a friendship.
Shrugging off all the doubts, I walk away, eager to meet my Sterling boys. The boys are already waiting outside the front doors—like always—when I walk down the steps leading to the beachfront restaurant. They never get a seat without me. I always get first pick at where I want to sit down at our table. I'm not sure why they started that, but it always works out the same—I'm next to Dane.
Speaking of Dane...
"Hey," he murmurs as he makes his way toward me, wearing his khaki shorts, his blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his dazzling smile.
Butterflies ruffle, my smile tugs, and his arms wrap around me as he pulls me in for the first hug of the night. I'm sure we'll be dealing out a bunch of them before we all split up.