Lilly: A Kensington Family Novel

by Allie Everhart

  I feel really bad for him. I didn't know he was doing all that for his mom. Taking care of her like that. That's a lot of responsibility for an 18-year-old. Or for anyone.

  We get our sketch books out along with our pencils. I like drawing with charcoal but it's too messy to use out here. There's no place to clean up.

  I cross my legs, my sketch book on my lap. We both look out at the landscape, deciding what to draw.

  After a few minutes I point to the area just below us on the beach. "I'm going to draw that rock over there. I like the shape of it and how the waves hit it and then the water recedes. But I don't think I can capture that in the drawing."

  "Sure you can. I'll show you how. When you get to that point, let me know."

  "What are you drawing?"

  "I'm not sure yet." He sets his sketch book down and takes a drink of his soda. He sits quietly while I work on my drawing. His mind is probably on his mom and what to do about her. What a nightmare to have to deal with that all the time. He's basically being the parent, taking care of his mom like she's a child. I wonder how long he's had to do that.

  After a while, Reed finally picks up his sketch book and begins drawing. It's peaceful being up here, drawing while listening to the roaring waves. I feel like we're a million miles away from campus in our own little world. Just Reed and me.

  "What are you drawing?" I ask.

  We've been drawing for two hours now, which I only know because I'm starting to get hungry. Otherwise, I would've kept drawing and not even realized the time. That always happens when I'm drawing or painting. I get lost in it and time just slips by.

  Reed doesn't answer my question. He's too into his drawing, his pencil making quick moves over the paper. I like watching him draw. He's so intense, like he has to hurry and get the image down before it leaves his head. I'm more of a slow drawer, focused on each section, trying to get the details right.

  "Reed. What are you drawing?" I can't see his sketch book, and when I try to look, he turns so I can't see.

  "No peeking."

  I sit back. "Why can't I see it?"

  "Because it's not done yet. It's almost there but not quite."

  "How much longer do you need?"

  "It's not about the time. I'd be finished by now if I could get the texture right."

  "Maybe I can help."

  He stops drawing and his eyes lift to mine. "You wouldn't mind?"

  "No. Let me see it."

  "You don't need to. I just need to do something."

  "Okay. Go ahead."

  He sets his sketch book down behind him so I can't see it. Then he takes mine and sets it aside.

  "Can I touch your face?"

  I give him a confused look. "Um, I guess."

  "This won't take long."

  He's staring at my lips in such an intense way it's making my pulse spike. He lifts his hand to the side of my face and my breath catches when I feel his thumb sweep over my lips. I want to ask what he's doing but I keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt this. His thumb moves over my bottom lip, softly, gently, causing a million nerve endings to come to life, in more than just my lips. My eyes fall shut as his thumb moves across my top lip, then slowly over the seam. I part my lips, breathing heavy, as his thumb runs over them once again.

  I open my eyes and see his face just a few inches from mine. I watch as his gaze moves from my mouth up to my eyes. I'm breathing so fast that I feel the movement in my chest as it expands and contracts. Reed's breathing is steady, his thumb now over my cheek, his hand cupping the side of my head.

  He leans in and presses his lips to mine and my whole body bursts to life, filling me with sensations and a heat that spreads through my core.

  He pauses, his warm breath over my lips. I press my lips against his, and feel his hand slide to the back of my neck as he kisses me again. I part my lips and his tongue sweeps over mine. I'm so overcome with how great this feels that I nearly fall back, but his arm goes around me, holding me up as we kiss. I want more. I want him to keep going, but then I feel his hand relax and his mouth leave mine.

  "I'm sorry," he says softly. I open my eyes and see that his head is down. "I didn't mean to do that."

  "You didn't want to kiss me?"

  "You're dating someone else." He lets me go and sits back. "I shouldn't have done that."

  "Reed, no. I'm not dating him anymore."

  "You're not? You told him that?"

  "Not yet. But I will when we get back."

  "We shouldn't be doing this until you've broken up with him."

  "I tried to tell him last night but he was too drunk. But I'll tell him tonight."

  Reed reaches behind us and opens the cooler. "Let's have lunch. It's after noon. You're probably starving."

  "Wait." I hold his arm. "What does this mean?"

  "Let's talk after you've broken up with him."

  "I am broken up with him. I just need to tell him." I look down, then back up at Reed. "I've never had a kiss like that."

  "Me either." He grins a little.

  "It was pretty amazing, right?" I half smile, embarrassed that I'm even talking about this, but for some reason I'm okay saying it to Reed.

  "Better than I imagined."

  "You imagined kissing me?"

  "Since the day I saw you sitting under that tree."

  I knew he was watching me that day. I could feel him watching me as I sat there.

  "Why did you kiss me just now?" I ask.

  "I couldn't help myself. I touched your lips and...I just had to kiss you."

  "Why did you touch my lips?"

  "I wanted to know how they feel so I could draw them. I wanted to make sure I got it right. And I did, even without feeling them." He reaches over for his sketch book and shows me his drawing. It's of me, sitting here, looking out at the ocean, a slight smile on my face, looking calm and at peace. The drawing is amazing. He really knows how to capture emotion. You can feel it when you look at it.

  "Reed, that's incredible."

  "Thanks." He sets it aside. "You ready to eat?"

  "Hey." I look him in the eye. "I mean it. That's really good. You're extremely talented."

  "I still have a lot to work on." He reaches in the cooler and hands me a sandwich. "You sure you don't want me to take you somewhere to eat? These sandwiches probably aren't that good."

  "The lunch is great. You've got chips, cookies, drinks. Thanks for doing all this." I set my sandwich down and reach over and hug him.

  "No problem." He seems surprised but hugs me back.

  I let him go and sit back again. "I should warn you, I'm from a family of huggers." I unwrap my sandwich. "And if I like someone, I have to hug that person, so expect a lot more of those."

  "So you like me?" A slight grin appears as he sets the bag of chips between us. "You just met me. You might want to hold off judgment until you know me better."

  "You bought me fruit punch, came to my rescue after the pyramid disaster, and risked your life helping me cross the street. What's not to like?" I bite into my sandwich.

  "Here." He holds the chip bag out to me and I take some. "You need another drink?"

  "No, I'm good."

  We both turn and gaze out at the ocean while we eat our lunch.

  "Lilly?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I like you too."

  I glance over at him. His eyes are still on the ocean as he eats his sandwich.

  I smile, and not a little smile, but a big smile, because I'm really happy right now. Reed is hot, super sweet, and makes me feel like I've never felt before. Butterflies. A racing heart. It's definitely the good nervous that Willow talked about. And when he kissed me? It was just like she described. Heat. Sparks. A connection I can't quite explain. And to top it all off, Reed's an artist. An incredibly talented artist.

  We finish our sandwiches, each lost in our own thoughts. I don't know what he's thinking about, but my thoughts are on him, remembering that kiss, wishing he'd give me another. But h
e won't until I break things off with Preston.

  I'm dreading having to talk to Preston later. He wouldn't accept our break-up when I tried to do it earlier and I have a feeling the same thing will happen tonight. He's someone who goes after what he wants, so if he wants me, he won't give up easily.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "What do you think of our painting professor?" Reed asks as he breaks open the bag of chocolate chip cookies and offers me some.

  "I like him." I take a cookie. "I think he'll be good. What do you think?"

  "I like how he doesn't talk down to us. Some of these art people think they're better than everyone else. They take themselves way too seriously and think everyone else should as well. I hate it when people act that way." He sets the bag of cookies aside. "So what do you like to paint?"

  "Emotions." I say it quietly, because it sounds strange, but it's true.

  He turns more so he's facing me. "Same here. Whenever people ask me what I paint, I say emotions and they look at me like I'm crazy. That's the first time I've heard anyone else answer that way. Tell me why you said it, and then I'll tell you my reason."

  I hesitate because I've never talked about this. It's one of those things only my family knows but they've never asked me about it. They don't need to. They know without me having to explain it.

  "Lilly?"

  I set my cookie down, brushing my hands together to get rid of the crumbs. "It's because of my mom. When I was little, my mom used to get really mad if I expressed emotion. And if I cried I was punished. I wasn't even allowed to cry at my grandfather's funeral."

  "Why wouldn't she let you show emotion?"

  "She said it's a sign of weakness and that weakness will get you nowhere in life. So I tried to hide my emotions as best I could. My brother told me not to listen to her, but she's my mom, and when you're little you think everything your parents tell you is true. So I started expressing my emotions through my drawings. When I was older, my dad let me take painting classes and I started doing abstract art, letting the paint and the colors express how I was feeling."

  Reed nods. "I did the same thing. And my reason is almost the same. It goes back to my mom. She didn't tell me I couldn't express emotion, but when I did, she'd use it as an excuse to drink. If I got mad or got into a fight with her, she'd head straight for the liquor. She'd say it was my fault she drank. That I drove her to do it. So I stopped getting angry. Hid my frustration with her. But it's hard to keep all those emotions bottled up. They had to be expressed somehow, so I used my art." He looks down, shaking his head. "You wouldn't want to see the drawings I did when I was younger. Some of them are freaking scary. But at the time, I was just so angry and I had to get it out."

  "And now you're not angry?"

  "No. What's the point? I've accepted that she'll never change. She doesn't want to and I can't force her to, so why be angry about it?" He takes a drink of his soda. "Let's not talk about our moms. You want some licorice?" He holds up the bag.

  "Not right now. I'm full."

  "You can take it back to your room. And I bought extra drinks so you can have those too. That way you can have your fruit punch and licorice fix."

  I feel bad that he bought me all this stuff, knowing he's struggling to pay for college, and his mom, and all his other expenses.

  "Reed, let me pay you for lunch."

  "You're not paying for lunch. I'm the one who made you come out here."

  "I know, but...don't buy me anything else, okay? I can pay for stuff. I have money."

  "I have money too. And if I want to spend it on you, I will." He smiles. "Besides, you don't seem like someone who has expensive taste."

  It's true. I don't. But I still have expensive things. An expensive car. Expensive clothes. Expensive shoes. I had to have those things to fit in at the private high school I went to, where everyone was rich.

  Reed still doesn't know that I'm rich. I haven't told him my last name because I didn't want him thinking I'm spoiled or obsessed with material things. But now that I know him better, I don't think he's the type of person who would judge me like that.

  "I never told you my last name." I pause. "It's Kensington."

  "Okay." He tosses our garbage into one of the empty grocery sacks.

  "That's all you have to say?"

  He scrunches up the chip bag. "What do you mean? What was I supposed to say?" He stuffs the chip bag in another one of the grocery sacks, along with the bag of cookies.

  "My last name is Kensington. Not just any Kensington. THE Kensington."

  "I don't know what that means." He sets the sacks in the cooler so they don't blow away. "Am I missing something?"

  "You've never heard of Pearce Kensington? Or Garret Kensington?"

  "No." Reed leans back on his hands and looks at me. "Why would I have heard of them?"

  "How about Kensington Chemical?"

  "I've heard of it, but I don't know anything about it."

  "That was my family's company. It's really big. Worldwide. My dad sold it a few years ago. He used to be the CEO. Now he gives speeches at conferences and is interviewed a lot on TV. He's kind of famous in the business world."

  "I don't follow business news. Is there a reason you're telling me all this?"

  "I just wanted you to know who I am."

  "I already know who you are." He points to my sketch book. "You ready to finish your drawing?"

  He doesn't know who I am, and even if he did, I don't think he'd care. He just likes me for me. Not my name. Or my money.

  "I think I'm done drawing for today," I say, inhaling the ocean breeze.

  "Do you want to go back to campus?"

  "No. I want to stay here and feel the breeze and listen to the waves." I kick my sandals off and lie down on the sleeping bag, looking up at the sky. "Come here."

  "Where?" he asks.

  "Beside me."

  He kicks his shoes off and lies down on his back, gazing up at the sky like I am.

  "I need a pillow," I say.

  He lifts his arm up and I scoot underneath it and lie my head on his shoulder.

  "Will that work?" he asks.

  "Yeah," I say, smiling up at him.

  We lie there and close our eyes and fall asleep.

  When we wake up, it's after three.

  "We should head back to campus," Reed says.

  "Are you going out with Erika tonight?" I ask as I put my sandals on.

  "No." He laughs a little. "I told you last night I wasn't dating her."

  "I know, but you already made plans with her so—"

  "I'm not going out with Erika." He gently grasps my arm. "Lilly."

  I stop messing with my sandal and look at him. "Yeah?"

  "I kissed you. I wouldn't do that if I was interested in another girl. I'm not that type of guy."

  I nod. "Okay."

  He holds my gaze, and for a brief moment I think he's going to kiss me again, but then he doesn't. He releases my arm and I finish putting on my sandals while he puts on his shoes. Then we pack up our drawing supplies.

  "We need to come here again," I say. "This was fun."

  "Can you make it down the hill or do I need to carry you?" He says it jokingly.

  "I can make it," I say, but then end up slipping a little on the way down.

  On the ride back to campus, I say, "I like your Jeep. I've never been in a Jeep before."

  "What kind of car do you have?"

  "A BMW."

  He looks at me, surprised. "That's a nice car. Is it new?"

  "It's a few months old. I got it last June."

  That just confirms that Reed has never heard of my dad. If he had, he wouldn't be surprised about my car. My dad is worth billions. Everyone in our family has expensive cars. My dad drives a Mercedes.

  When we get to campus, Reed carries my stuff to my room.

  "What are you doing tonight?" he asks.

  I roll my eyes. "Talking to Preston. We're supposed to go to dinner. He got reservations."


  "Are you going?"

  "I'm going to try to get out of it."

  "You don't have to try. Just don't go. Tell him you don't want to."

  "I will, but he doesn't take no for an answer."

  "Lilly, are you serious about ending this thing with Preston or not?"

  "Yes."

  "Then end it. Don't let it drag out."

  "Preston's the one dragging it out. I already told him it's over this morning but he wouldn't listen."

  "You want me to tell him?" he asks, but then says, "Actually, never mind. That's probably not a good idea. Call me later and let me know how it goes."

  "Okay. Bye."

  My phone rings just as he's leaving. It's Preston.

  "Hi, Preston. I was just about to call you."

  "Hey. Are you in your room?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "I'm almost there. I'll see you in a minute." He hangs up.

  I was hoping to end things over the phone. I didn't want him coming over here, but moments later, he's knocking on my door. When I open it, I see him standing there with a bouquet of flowers.

  "Hi, beautiful." He kisses my cheek on his way in my room. I close the door and turn to him.

  "Preston, we need to talk. This morning—"

  "These are for you." He hands me the flowers.

  He's wearing light-colored pants, a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and expensive leather loafers. He's clean shaven and his blond hair doesn't have a strand out of place. He looks just like the type of guy I thought I'd end up with. The type I thought would please my family, especially my mom. Honestly, I try to please my mom more than anyone else. I keep thinking if I do everything the way she tells me to, my mom will finally accept me and love me like the rest of my family does. But the truth is, even though Preston fits the mold of who I should date, my mom still wouldn't like him because she didn't pick him for me.

  "I'm really sorry about last night," he says, standing too close. "I was an ass. And I shouldn't have let you leave alone. I should've walked you home."

  This seems to be a pattern with him. Treat me badly, apologize later, then repeat that cycle all over again.