More Than Forever

by Jay McLean

  "You don't have to do that."

  He shrugs, handing me the plate to dry. Normally, he dries, and I wash. He's a good dryer. I rush things, leave wet spots. He does things thoroughly. Slowly. Until it's perfect. I glare at the plate in my hand and make a mental note to dry it until it's perfect.

  So that's what I'm doing, drying and inspecting the plate in front of me when he whispers my name.

  My eyes snap to his. And then...

  Lips.

  On me.

  On my lips.

  Mouth.

  Lips.

  Mouth.

  I whimper. Legit, whimper.

  But I don't know what's happening and what I should be doing so I stand frozen like a statue with the plate still in my hand and my eyes closed. And all too quickly—no more lips. Where did his mouth go? By the time I open my eyes, he's turned away, looking down into the sink, his hands gripping the edge of it. "Sorry," he says.

  I try to ask why, but all that comes out is a continuous, "Wwww." I clear my throat and try to stop the world from spinning. When did I get dizzy? I try again. "More mouth." Shit. That wasn't what I meant to say.

  He chuckles lightly and it makes me feel dumb, but only for a second before he turns to face me. Taking the plate from my grip and setting it on the counter, he holds both of my hands in his and slowly moves in.

  I prepare myself this time. A montage of words from the books I've read about kissing flies through my mind. It can't be that hard. I can totally do this. I ignore the pounding in my ears. And then...

  Mouth.

  Lips.

  More mouth.

  Lips.

  Soft lips.

  Is that tongue?

  Oh my God.

  He pulls away and my eyes snap open. His eyes are wide as he searches my face. "Luce?"

  And I die. I love the way my name falls from his lips. His lips...

  "Are you okay?" He waits, his eyebrows bunching more with each passing second.

  Answer him.

  He releases my hands and I think he's about to back away from crazy, but he moves them to my hips.

  I die. Again.

  "Is this... I mean... have you ever been kissed before?"

  My head shakes frantically. I can't control it.

  His face lights up.

  I don't know why he's happy that he's trying to make out with a pajama wearing, frozen, virgin kisser. That doesn't sound like happy times at all.

  "So I'm your first?"

  I nod again. The same speed as before. That's it—I've lost control of all bodily function.

  "I like that," he says, his mouth slowly descending. He presses his lips softly against mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray that I can actually do something this time. "Relax," he whispers against my lips. "I got you."

  I feel the moment the tension leaves my body.

  And then...

  LIPS. Oh. My. God. Lips.

  So different this time. Soft. Guiding. He's guiding me on my first kiss.

  I match my lips to his movements.

  And then something happens.

  Like a clicking of pieces.

  A perfect harmony.

  A double rainbow.

  My arms are around him now, gripping the back of his shirt. He pulls me closer to him, until I'm on my toes, reaching for him. Not wanting the moment to end. Then...

  Tongue.

  And everything snaps shut.

  My eyes.

  My lips.

  He pulls back, releasing me slowly onto the floor. Or maybe I just imagined that I was floating on air. When I open my eyes he's right there, his face only inches from me. A slight smirk graces his lips. "You just tell me when you're ready for more, Luce."

  By now, I've lost the need to breathe. I yank on his shirt and pull him back to me. "Now," I tell him.

  He lets out a soft chuckle, but my mouth on his cuts it off. I'm a mess. My mind is reeling and my body tingles everywhere. I open my mouth slightly, encouraging him to continue where he left off. When his tongue brushes against mine, we moan into each other. He takes control, showing me what to do—making my first kiss perfect. He pulls away before I'm ready to stop. I pull him back to me by his shirt. He chuckles again, and this time I don't feel dumb. I just feel him—his lips, his tongue, and his hands on my waist, gripping tightly.

  We kiss for nowhere near long enough before his phone rings and we reluctantly break apart. His eyes never leave me when he lifts the phone to his ear. "Hey Mom... I know... I'm sorry, I'll be home soon."

  I look at the clock with a grimace. It's twenty minutes past his curfew.

  "I know," he continues, "No, I left the party... I'm with Lucy. Yes... No... Yes... Okay."

  He hangs up and gazes down at me, and almost shyly, a smile spreads across his face. "You're so short."

  I laugh at that. But his features flatten at the sound of it. Then heavy footsteps thud down the stairs. My eyes widen and my breath catches. I pull on his shirt until we're in the pantry, and I close the door to hide Cameron from my dad. Or maybe the other way around.

  It's dark, the only light coming from under the door. "What's going on?" he whispers. I reach up and cover his mouth with my hand. His fingers circle my wrist and pull it away. Then his arms wrap tightly around me as I slowly crumble to the floor.

  I hate these nights.

  I hate that he gets like this.

  I hate that he's allowed and I'm not.

  I hate it.

  I hate it so much I let it out in angry tears.

  Cameron's hold gets tighter as he brings me closer. So close I'm curled into a ball on his lap.

  And the tears won't go away.

  I hate everyone.

  I hate everything.

  -CAMERON-

  Footsteps thump into the kitchen. I can hear the clanking of glass and the overwhelming smell of whiskey. She's curled into herself, her face pressed against my chest with her silent tears soaking through my shirt. I stroke her hair, wanting to comfort her. I don't know if it helps—but I don't know what else to do. The sound of shattering glass makes her flinch. "Fuck!" The deep tenor of his voice has my heart racing. "Dammit!"

  The sound of footsteps thud nearer. She sits up and moves in front of me—like she's ready to protect me. She doesn't need to protect me. I'm here to protect her.

  "KATHY!" her dad yells. "Kathy!" Quieter this time. And then a loud thump; like a body crashing to the floor. She flinches again. I hold her face and get her to look at me. "It's okay," I whisper. And then I kiss her. Because I don't know what else to do, and I don't know how to make things better. So I distract her from what's happening outside that door. I distract her from what's happening in her life. I distract her from her reality.

  When minutes pass with no further sounds, I pull back. "Ready?"

  She kisses me once more and nods.

  We stand up and I make sure she's behind me when I open the door and peek out.

  He's laying on his side, passed out on the kitchen floor, a smashed bottle of whiskey near his feet. She moves around, walks over to him and gets on her knees in front of him. "Daddy," she whispers, shaking him roughly. "Daddy!"

  He rolls onto his back and grunts in response. Her gaze quickly flicks to me before she lifts his arm and settles it around her shoulders.

  That small look was all I needed to know that whatever fleeting moment we shared before he came down is over, and that the walls that surrounded her have slammed right back down.

  "Come on, Daddy. Let's get you to bed." Her tone's flat. Not sincere. Not sympathetic. She struggles to help him stand. Only now do I realize how huge he is. At least six-five. Built like a Mack truck. I don't know how she's holding him up. She's barely five foot, weighs the equivalent of his right leg. I step forward, an offer to help, but she shakes her head to stop me.

  "Where's Kathy?" he says groggily. She doesn't answer; just keeps struggling to lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  I sweep u
p the broken glass off the floor and bag at least ten bottles of alcohol. When I come back in through the back door after throwing them out, she's walking into the kitchen. She smiles sadly when she sees me—that wall still in place. "I think your mom's here."

  I'd completely forgotten that she was picking me up. "Are you gonna be okay?"

  She leads me to her front door, never once looking at me. "I'm fine."

  I step to her and take her hands—my eyes searching hers. "Are you though?"

  "You can't say anything to anyone, Cameron. I mean it," she snaps.

  "I wouldn't, Luce."

  "I'm serious." She yanks her hands away. "People will start to worry. They'll send people to check on us and they'll separate us. I'll lose my brothers. And you—you were never supposed to see any of that." She opens the front door for me.

  Mom's headlights blind me for a moment. She must see my reaction because she switches them off.

  "I'll come by early tomorrow, okay?"

  She shakes her head. "No, Cameron. Not tomorrow."

  I rear back in surprise, my brows bunching as I search her face for a reason. "Why?"

  "I just need time with my family. Alone."

  I don't know what to say, so I stay silent.

  She flinches when I touch her hand, but it doesn't stop me from gripping it and pulling her into me. "I wish I could help. I wish I could fix things." I kiss the top of her head.

  "LUCY!" her dad shouts, his voice causing my blood to boil.

  She looks up at me now, her eyes stone cold. "I hate him," she whispers before breaking away and going back into her house.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  -CAMERON-

  Yesterday was the first day since I started going to her house that I didn't see her. It took everything I had to not call her, or to not just get on my bike and ride to her house. I got to school early, hoping that I'd catch her before class, but I never saw her at her locker. My eyes kept wandering, looking for her everywhere. By the time lunch rolled around, I began to panic. But when I saw her sitting alone, against a wall of the building opposite the cafeteria, where I currently stood, the panic was replaced with something else. Nerves. Excitement. Anticipation. "I'm out." I pat Jake on the shoulder and squeeze past the people waiting in the food line.

  My palms are already sweaty by the time I get to her. I stand over her, but she doesn't see me, her eyes too fixed on the e-reader in her hand. It makes me chuckle, remembering the first time I truly noticed her. "Hey," I say, trying to get her attention.

  She doesn't budge.

  I softly kick her shoe with mine.

  She finally lifts her head. Her eyes widen when she sees that it's me, and slowly, but surely, her lips begin to spread into a smile.

  "Can I sit?"

  She nods, her smile getting wider.

  "Am I interrupting your reading?"

  She leans forward, looks back down at her e-reader and shakes her head.

  I sit next to her and stretch my arm behind her, wanting to be closer... remembering how she felt in my arms. I've thought about it a lot, but I've also thought about what happened afterwards—the shit with her dad and how she acted because of it. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine."

  And something tells me that 'I'm fine' is her go-to line. Her go-to lie.

  I raise my hand and tilt her chin with my finger so I can actually see her face.

  Her cheeks burn red and I fake a confidence that doesn't exist. Leaning in slowly, I place my lips on hers. She smiles against them, but pulls away quickly, eyeing our surroundings.

  I push back the slight feeling of rejection and move on. "What are you reading?"

  "Nothing."

  "You can't be reading nothing. What is it?"

  "It's just about a boy and girl falling in love."

  "Yeah? Is the guy a stud? Is his name Cameron?"

  She laughs, the sound so powerful it drowns out all other sounds. "No."

  "Read me some."

  "No."

  "Come on. I wanna know what this kid does that makes you so drawn to the story."

  "No," she says again. "I'm not reading to you. That's weird."

  "Fine." I lean in so I can read over her shoulder.

  We're close. Too close. My nose grazes her cheek, and my lips follow. I kiss her cheek; the warmth from her blush heats my lips. She's frozen, like she was on Saturday night, and I love that I have that effect on her. My lips brush down her cheek and into the crook of her neck, where I kiss her again.

  She jerks back quickly.

  And I can't ignore the rejection the second time. "You not into public kissing?"

  "No," she says. "It's not that..." Her nose scrunches. "I mean, I don't know if I am. It's just that I don't really know what this is yet... you and me. I think I just need some time to figure it out. And you know me... you know my life... you see how things are for me. I don't know if I can—"

  "Okay," I cut in. "Take your time. Decide what you want. But just so you know—none of that means anything to me—your life, I mean. It doesn't change the fact that I want you." I pause, replaying the words in my head. I just told her I wanted her. I should feel embarrassed, or at least awkward, but I don't. "I'll wait for you, Luce, until you're ready. Just tell me now, so I don't sit around getting my hopes up... do you think that maybe someday you'll want me, too?"

  She bites her bottom lip and looks around again. Then she lifts her e-reader and reaches up to my face, her e-reader blocking us from the rest of the world. She kisses me softly, and longer than I expected. "Yes," she says, pulling away.

  I can't help grinning like an idiot. "Good."

  She leans in closer so our sides are flush against each other. It's a sign—her way of showing me that she wants me without having to say a word.

  I hear Logan and Jake talking loudly as they walk past. Logan stops in his tracks at the sight of us. I want to hide her from him. I don't want him to know who or what she is to me. He smirks, right before he starts humping the air. I shake my head at him.

  "Your friends are idiots," she giggles, but her eyes are cast downwards, focused on her e-reader again.

  "Yeah, they kind of are." I watch as her eyes move from side to side.

  "So I have practice after school, I'll come by right after."

  She switches it off and shoves it in her bag. "Baseball practice?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay... so you'll be hungry after, right?"

  I laugh. "Most likely."

  She gets on her knees and throws her backpack over her shoulders. "Good. I'll make extra for you." Her eyes search the area around us, and when she's satisfied no one can see, she places both hands on my shoulders and pushes me against the wall.

  My eyes widen in surprise.

  "Just a quick goodbye kiss," she says, before moving in and giving it to me.

  ***

  "I hate that guy," Logan jerks his head toward Jake and a new kid.

  "The new kid? Dylan?"

  He nods. "He thinks he owns the school."

  "Really?" I glare over at them. "Apparently he kills it on the basketball court, but I dunno." I shrug. "He hasn't said two words to me. He seems quiet."

  "Those are the ones you have to worry about, Cam. The quiet broody assholes get all the girls. Better watch him around that new girl of yours."

  I play dumb. "What new girl?"

  "Shut up, asshole. You don't think I notice you watching her all the fucking time?"

  I lift my chin. "I think if there's an asshole in this entire school to watch out for, it's you."

  He laughs and adjusts his cap. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm not into stealing my friend's girls." He shoves his hand in his catcher's glove and smacks my arm with it. "Say the word. Claim her. I promise to stay away and I'll make sure she's untouchable to everyone else."

  "I'm not an asshole and she isn't property. I can't own her."

  "If that's what you want." He raises an eyebrow. "She's cute. In a couple yea
rs she'll be hot. Guys will be all over her. I'm just trying to help out."

  I think about what he's saying, and he makes a good point. Only he's wrong—she's hot now. "Fine. I claim her. She's mine."

  His smirk is instant. "You can't own someone, you pig. She isn't property."

  I laugh. "Fuck you."

  Jake struts over to us. "Ya reckon that new kid Dylan can hang out with us this arvo? He seems like a top bloke."

  Logan's gaze moves to me, confusion clear on his face. I shrug. He lets out a chuckle before gripping both of Jake's shoulders and shaking him gently. He looks him right in the eye, speaking slowly and clearly. "I have no idea what the fuck you just said."

  ***

  I don't bother knocking when I get to her house, and I'm glad I don't because no one would have heard me over her screaming. "What's wrong with him?" she shouts. I drop my backpack and run to the kitchen. The boys are standing above her, the younger ones are crying... and so is she. Hysterically. She's holding the baby in her arm, with one hand touching his forehead.

  I drop to my knees next to her. "What's wrong?"

  "I don't know," she sobs, trying to level her breathing. "He won't stop crying and he's burning up. I got home from school and my aunt had to rush out. He was fine, and then he wasn't. He hasn't stopped crying."

  "Have you called your aunt?" My voice is strained. I'm scared. I want to help her but I don't know how.

  "Get me the phone," she yells at the boys.

  Where is her dad?

  Leo hands her the phone. Her fingers make quick work of pushing the right buttons. She holds it to her ear while her eyes move to mine. "What did I do to him?" she whispers.

  My heart breaks. "It's not your fault," I tell her, but she's already speaking hysterically into the phone. "Aunt Leslee, something's wrong with Lachlan." She can barely speak through her cries. She glances up, taking a look at each of the boys, and then me. "Help," she says. And I know it takes everything in her to ask for it.

  I take the phone from her when she's done and dial 911. I try to stay calm as I tell them as much as I know—which is fuck all. Then I hang up and call my mom. "I need you to come to Lucy's. Now." She doesn't waste time asking questions—just tells me she's on her way.

  Lucy hasn't stopped crying, and neither has the baby. The older boys are comforting the younger ones as much as possible, but I can see in their faces that they're just as afraid as we all are.