Slow Twitch - Реинхардт Лиз. Страница 65

He yanked me to him, wrapped his arms around me, and put his face into my hair, and I registered the sharp scent of him and felt his strong arms around me in a kind of distanced shock while he just held on.

I had been so worried about Jake hating it and Saxon thinking it was pathetic, I hadn’t left any room in my head for the possibility that maybe what I did was good in some completely unexpected way. That maybe, in some really private, quiet place, it made a difference. And I realized that the private, quiet place was in my heart and Saxon’s, and wherever the crossover place between them was, and that gave me a huge sense of peace. Finally.

I pulled back and kissed him on the side of his mouth, in that barely-okay friend place that’s intimate but allowed, because I knew we both understood what it took to walk right out onto that shaky, unsettling limb and hop around, too curious about what it would be like to take a minute and fear the possible fall. “Thanks. Seriously. I was sort of wishing that I never wrote it at all.”

He sucked a breath in through his teeth. “That would have been a fucking tragedy.” Then he let me go. He watched his own hands let go of me and he took two deliberate steps back.

Anyone else would have felt like there needed to be something else, like something else needed to be said, but Saxon was such a completely lovable sociopath, he just turned on his heel, hands in his pockets, and went back into the crowded, hot room. I felt an easy, happy bubble of a feeling, like it was all going to be all right. Like I could let go of some of the angst and stupidity Saxon and I fostered for a whole long, bitter year. Like I’d figured out a way to love him that had nothing to do with games or hurt or upsets.

That’s when I noticed that I wasn’t alone and hadn’t been the whole time. Jake was by his truck, across from us. I felt a sinking feeling in my heart. If he had seen it all, he was probably pissed.

He walked over, and I looked at what Cadence had admired and I had pretended to be dense about the day before; these two were a pretty high concentration of amazingness.

Even while my thoughts were running the gamut from guilt to aggravation, there was something really overwhelming about Jake, and it always clouded my judgment. He had on a light blue button down, cuffed up to his elbows and a pair of relaxed jeans. If he had a pair of boots and a Stetson, he’d have that modern cowboy thing going on big time.

I was so busy admiring his confident stride and very nice biceps that I didn’t pay attention to his face.

Which was smiling, strangely.

“Was it about the essay?” He stuck both hands deep in his pockets.

I nodded.

“I know I was pissed about it,” he said, then kicked at the loose gravel, as if he could loosen whatever else he needed to say.

“You have every right to be pissed.” I reached a hand out and he took it. I inched up to him and looked right into his gray eyes. “I definitely would have been. Every once in a while, I do something weird and it doesn’t work out the way I thought at all. Or, it works out, but in a totally different way than I expected. But I get why you’re pissed. I’m actually glad you’ve been so understanding.”

He shrugged and swung my hand back and forth. “It’s just plain old jealousy. What you wrote was so crazy and real. In a good way. But I wished you wrote it about me. Not that I’m saying I deserved to have some essay you wrote dedicated to me.”

I rushed the tiny space left between us and put my hands up to his face. “Jake, you do deserve it. You so do. I just haven’t figured you out enough to attempt to write an essay like that.”

“I should be glad that you’re willing to just be honest. You never feel like you have to lie. That’s a really good thing.” He rubbed his face against my palms. “Maybe I don’t seem like I appreciate it all the time, but I do. I would hate it if we lied to each other.”

“You want honest? It’s scary to love somebody like I love you.” The words came out whisper-quiet. “And sometimes I feel like I mean so much to you, and you mean so much to me, it’s just overwhelming. You know?”

“I know that.” When he smiled at me, his crooked eyetooth glinted in the parking lot lights. He ran a hand over my hair. “You don’t have to be everything to me, Brenna. I know I’ve leaned on you hard, but I’m not going to fall apart.”

“I know that. I’m glad you and Saxon made up. I’m glad you reconnected with your Aunt Helene.” I paused and buttoned a button he missed on his shirt. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with your father and all the rest of them.”

He shrugged. “Fuck ‘em. The Kelly Boat runs better with a tight crew anyway.” Then he pulled me so we were hip to hip and I felt that indefinable rush that always washed over me when my skin touched Jake’s. It was huge and real and took my breath away.

I put a fist up. “Kelly Boat for life.”

He bumped my fist. “We really need to perfect a secret handshake.”

I raised my eyebrows and kissed the warm knuckles of his fist, then lifted on my toes and kissed his lips with slow, sweet pressure.

“That’s a pretty awesome addition to the handshake,” he said. “But we can’t have everyone in the crew doing that. I mean, I’m cool with Saxon, but I can’t go that far.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” I asked around my bubbling giggles and his quick, sweet kisses.

“Yep.” He lifted me up and put me over his shoulder and ran across the parking lot to his truck. The bump of his shoulder on my gut actually hurt a little, but there was something freeing about the way I was bouncing around with only his body to hold me steady, and I loved it.

I could think of a fairly appropriate ending to the night, but it was a weird thing to plan. Or maybe it wasn’t a weird thing to plan at all?

“Jake? I was thinking that we could…um, find someplace to park.”

He was looking over his shoulder as he backed out, but he hit the brakes and switched his gaze to focus right at me. He licked his lips nervously and set his attention straight ahead, out the bug-flecked windshield.

“Tonight?” He jiggled the shift stick nervously.

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “If you want! No if you don’t. Not a big deal.” I put my fingers over my eyes and talked though the crack in my palms. “Am I making this weird? Am I ruining the moment? You can tell me. I am, aren’t I?”

His Adam’s apple hopped up and down. “No. It’s good. We should talk about it. I want to. But in my truck?”

I waved my hands around. “I happen to find this truck very romantic. We’ve had many very romantic moments in here.” I waggled my eyebrows and shook my shoulders.

Jake laughed, but it was a nervous, quick sound that ended with a lecture before it ever really got going. “Bren, it’s a big deal. It’s important to me that it’s nice for you.”

Then I remembered Mom’s convention. “Hey! I have the house to myself next weekend.”

“Oh.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Alright,” he said finally. “Next weekend then.”

“Only if you want to!” The weirdness factor wrestled with the anticipation factor…which really just added to the overall weirdness.

“I do!” He jumped the words with too quick a start, and we both went completely quiet, not sure what topic of conversation could follow up planning a date to have sex.

It felt totally, completely weird to actually set aside a date for something that was usually so spontaneous.

Like too spontaneous.

I mean, there was usually a hot-and-bothered, rolling-on-the-sheets, forgot-the-condom scenario when you were young and lusty. Right? Did people plan this stuff?

I felt a little ripple of anticipation course through me when I imagined the night. I knew, without a single doubt, that I wanted to do this and I wanted it to be with Jake. We would be safe and it would be good. I knew it would be.