The Learning Hours

by Sara Ney

  I crave those three little words, so starved to hear him say them I don’t know what’s come over me. It goes so much deeper than the lust I feel for him every day or how I long to see him when we’re not together. Or how just the sight of his name on my phone or his car parked on the street makes me shiver.

  The sound of his voice when he says my name.

  The way he looks when he’s excited or confused.

  I’m falling in love with him.

  And that has been our issue all along, hasn’t it?

  The realization dawns on me: I know how I feel, but does he? Rhett has convinced himself a girl like me—whatever that means—couldn’t sincerely like him, let alone fall deep.

  My hearts sinks.

  “Rhett?” I hand his cell phone back.

  “Hmm?”

  “I…” I hesitate. Do I tell him? I shouldn’t say it now—this isn’t the right time or the right place—but I’ve always been a bit too impulsive for my own sake.

  I want to call Lana for advice; she’d talk me down off the ledge. I do not know how to navigate a guy like Rhett, one who has his shit together. Who doesn’t chase girls because he doesn’t have the confidence.

  Who knows what he wants but not how to take it.

  I draw a deep breath into my lungs.

  “I think I care because I’m…I think I might be, you know.” My face is on fire, burning to the roots of my hair, praying he takes the hint. “I might be.”

  “You might be what?”

  I can’t gauge his reply, whether he’s anxious or irritated or—

  “You can tell me, Laurel. Whatever it is.”

  Rhett

  “Just spit it out—it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid.” Jesus, whatever it is, I wish she’d say it. Put me out of my damn misery.

  She looks nervous. Guilty.

  What the hell could be so hard to say? Is she seeing someone else? Is she dumping me? Fuck—that would kill me.

  “Laurel?” I can barely get her name past my lips, the stretch of her silence making me want to fucking vomit.

  When she opens her mouth, releasing a sigh, ten words I never expected her to say come pouring out: “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

  I blink.

  Flushed, down to my boxers. Swallow down the lump that’s formed in my throat. Repeat those ten words over and over in my mind until they’re playing on a loop.

  Did she seriously just say she’s falling in love with me?

  There’s no fucking way.

  “Just a little.” She fidgets in her seat. “Aren’t you going to say something?” Her eyes are bright, like the sky before it rains. Her voice? Timid and cracking and unusually small. A whisper. “Please say something.”

  I have no idea what to fucking say.

  She loves me? This girl—this smoking hot, gorgeous, sexy, intelligent girl loves me?

  It refuses to compute in my brain. Won’t.

  Can’t.

  “Oh my God.” A sob escapes her. “You don’t feel the same way.” Her wide eyes take on a horrified gleam. Downcast.

  No girl has ever told me they loved me before, if you don’t include my mother.

  I sit in stunned silence, processing, basically freaking the fuck out.

  “That’s not it,” I finally croak out, my own words raspy. “I just don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. I get it. I didn’t tell you so you’d say it back. I just had to get it out, so you knew I was serious about you. So you’d know.” She stands, almost knocking over the chair. “I should go.”

  “Jesus, Laurel, please—”

  Her palm goes up to stop me, nose turning red. She’s about to cry. “Please, just let me leave, okay? I want to go. I’ll be fine.”

  But she won’t be fine, and neither will I.

  Not by a long shot.

  I let her leave, actually sit and watch her pack up her things, fighting back tears as she shoves shit into her backpack, the whole time wishing my brain would work.

  Fucking tell me the right thing to say for once.

  Rhett

  “Mom.”

  “Hey honey!”

  “Hey.” My unenthusiastic greeting has her proceeding with caution. Maybe she even assumes the worst—that someone on the team has pulled another stupid stunt.

  “Everything okay? You never call.”

  “Everything is fine.” After a few seconds, I clear my throat. “I need some advice.”

  “Is this about Laurel?”

  I shift in my desk chair, turning to face the window. “Yeah.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “No. Yes.” I run a hand through my shaggy hair. Why haven’t I fucking gotten it cut yet? “I don’t know.”

  “All right,” she says slowly, cautiously. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

  “It’s really not a big deal.”

  “Okay.” She waits me out, patient. “Is it related to…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “S-E-X?”

  “What? No!”

  “Did you break up with her?”

  “Huh?” Why would she phrase it like that: did I break up with her? “No, nothing like that.”

  “Because that young lady is sweet on you Rhett—those blue eyes sparkle when they look at you.”

  “They do?”

  “Yes. Even your dad noticed.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, your dad.” Mom laughs. “We were young once too, you know. We remember what it’s like to be jeune et amoureuse.”

  Young and in love.

  “Is that it?” Her voice is quiet. “Does that have something to do with it? She’s a sweetheart.”

  I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use to classify Laurel, but I keep my mouth shut.

  “And she likes you.”

  Loves me, actually.

  Loves.

  I roll the word around in my head, the concept foreign.

  “Is that the problem? You don’t think she likes you?”

  My silence speaks for itself.

  “Why do you think you’re not worthy of her liking you?”

  Leave it to Mom get to the root of the problem without even trying. The phone line is silent as I mentally catalogue the reasons why I’m not worthy of her liking me:

  I’m not handsome.

  I’m not outgoing.

  I’m awkward with an embarrassing amount of inexperience.

  My teammates treat me like shit though I’m now the team’s winningest athlete.

  Laurel is everything I’m not—beautiful, boisterous, and popular.

  “Honey, are you still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I want you to listen to me Rhett Clayton Rabideaux.” Her tone is firm, her words encouraging. “You’re smart, you’re clever, and you’re hardworkin’—not many young men your age can say that.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Handsome—”

  I scoff, interrupting her monologue.

  “Be quiet and listen to your mother,” she snaps over the line.

  I clamp my jaw shut.

  “I’ve never seen anyone so young work hard as you do. It’s all you’ve done since you were little. You’d set a goal and work toward it—we could never tell you no. I worry that I should have given you more limits, but you never wanted to settle.”

  She’s quiet, considering her next words. “Practice, practice, practice. Helped take care of Nanan when she was alive. Worked every single summer, savin’ every last dime to buy that Jeep.”

  She pauses again.

  “I know you think Dad and I are upset you transferred, and that’s probably my fault, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Daddy and I are selfish. We didn’t want you to transfer because we wanted to keep you close to home—it had nothin’ to do with Iowa as a school. We’re so proud of you, Rhett.

  “You’ve always been a role model to your brothers, stayin’ out of trouble, away from the alcohol
and drugs. Don’t you think it’s time to let yourself have some fun? Get caught up in the love of an intelligent, pretty girl?”

  Silence.

  “Rhett honey, anyone with eyes can see that she loves you, even if she doesn’t know it yet herself.”

  I give my head a shake she can’t see. “She does know. She told me.”

  Mom’s breath hitches. “When?”

  “Today.”

  “Is that why you’re callin’?”

  “Yeah. She told me and I…”

  Mom’s voice lowers gently. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” Pause. “Is that bad?”

  Mom’s short intake of breath is not the reaction I was hoping for.

  Shit.

  “Oh sweetie. What did she do?”

  “She got a little upset, got up and left me sittin’ in the library.”

  “How do you feel about Laurel?”

  “I like her.”

  “Is that all?”

  Is it? “No.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Maybe.” Probably.

  “But you’re not ready to say the words?”

  I’m ready; I’m just fucking scared. “I don’t know, Mom. I’ve never said it to anyone but you.”

  “I’m sorry honey, I wish it was easy. Wish I could give you an answer and tell you what to do, but I can’t. This one you’re going to have to figure out on your own—it’s your heart.” She pauses. “And Rhett honey?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Don’t make her wait too long—don’t make her wonder. She’s probably already upset and embarrassed enough as it is. Go talk to her and tell her how you feel.”

  “Kay.”

  But I’m not sure if I will.

  Because I’m not sure if I can.

  Rhett

  “Laurel, I’ve been givin’ this a lot of thought, and last night when I talked to my mom, she told me I shouldn’t make you wait for me to tell you how I feel.”

  Wait, shit. I can’t tell Laurel I talked to my mom about her—I’ll sound like a fucking idiot, a goddamn momma’s boy.

  I start my speech over, speaking into thin air—into Laurel’s empty yard, where no one is around, leaving me no one to converse with but the squirrel eyeballing me skeptically from a big oak tree.

  I give him the stink eye right back. “Stop judgin’ me you little asshole, this is hard enough as it is. I’m tryin’ to…I’m tryin’…”

  Jesus, what the hell am I trying to do? I sound bat-shit crazy. Look crazier, pacing Laurel’s yard, back and forth in front of her damn door, a light drizzle taking its cue from the dark clouds above, adding to my dark mood.

  “Shit. What am I doing?”

  A raindrop falls from the sky. Then another, until the sky opens up and I’m literally standing in the mothereffing rain.

  Suddenly she appears in the driveway, barefoot, in a t-shirt and tight black leggings, running to her car on her tiptoes. Yanks the door open, ass sticking out of the cab when she leans in, swiping an unseen object from the center console. Slams the door and turns back toward the house.

  She doesn’t see me standing here.

  “Laurel,” I call her name in the rain, loud enough that she spins on the grass, brows raised, surprised to see me in her yard.

  Shocked, actually.

  “Rhett?” She steps toward me, clutching her phone charger. “Rhett, what are you doing here?”

  She squints her blue eyes up at the sky as beads of water blanket her hair. Her skin is already dewy.

  “I came to see you.”

  “Okay.” She smiles, giving a hasty glance up at the sky. “Do you want to come inside?”

  “No.” My head shakes, adamant, the brim of my ball cap keeping only my face dry. “No, I need to say what I came to say.”

  Laurel nods slowly, hair now completely saturated, falling in limp sheets to her shoulders. She tightly winds her phone cord and tucks it into the back pocket of her jeans. “All right.”

  I take one step forward, then another, until I’m crossing the lawn. Until I’m not two feet in front of her. “I was goin’ to come over with a sign—you know the green flyers they hung on campus? The Get Rett Laid ones? I was gonna make a new one, for you.”

  God I sound dumb.

  “Oh yeah?” She closes the gap between us, blue eyes practically dancing they’re so alive. “What would the poster have said?”

  I brush the water off her forehead, eyebrows. “I had one all made up. It said”—I clear my throat, nervously gathering up my courage—“Rhett Gets Love.” Pause. “Jesus Christ, did that sound as fuckin’ dumb out loud as it sounded in my head?”

  She laughs, tipping her head back, black mascara beginning to run a little. I swipe at the mess with my thumb, taking her face in my huge hands. Lean in close when Laurel cuffs my wrists with her hands, holding on to me tight.

  “That doesn’t sound dumb at all. It sounds romantic.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes.” Rain-drenched hair sticks to her lips. “Are you going to kiss me?” she asks.

  “Not yet.” Our foreheads touch. “I have somethin’ to say first.”

  Patiently, she waits me out in the rain, breathing heavy, shirt soaked, nipples straining against the fabric. Bare feet in the water-drenched lawn.

  “I’m sorry I let you walk out of the library. I was scared.”

  “I know,” comes her murmur. “So was I.”

  “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

  “You won’t.” Her lips steal a quick kiss to the tip of my nose. “I promise.”

  Then here goes nothing. “Je suis en train de tomber amoureux de toi.” I’m falling in love with you. “Je t’aime, Laurel.”

  She tries pulling back so she can see my face. “What did you just say?”

  “I said—”

  “I know what je t’aime is, baby. I just can’t believe you said it.” Her hand brushes down the side of my jawline, sweeping at the rain. “Say it again—in English.”

  “I love you.”

  Her cheeks are flushed—whether it’s from the cold or my declaration, I do not know. “You love me.” She says it breathlessly. Giddy.

  “I do.” I cup her face, mouth hovering over her damp lips. “I fucking do.”

  “Now are you going to kiss me?”

  “I thought you wanted to go inside?” I can’t resist teasing her. “Get out of the rain?”

  “No, I can’t stand it anymore. I want your lips on me now.”

  “Then yeah, now I’m going to kiss you.”

  As if in time to the perfect beat, our mouths meet, breath and rain and tongues all in one effortlessly choreographed motion. Heads tilted, I lick the water off her lips, suck it off her tongue.

  “You feel so warm. So good.” Laurel’s hands leave my wrists, straying down my ribcage. She presses her breasts against my chest. “Let’s go inside. Get out of the cold.”

  My mouth drifts from her lips to her neck. “Want to get naked?” Holy shit, did those words just come out of my mouth?

  Laurel moans against the column of my neck. “I like it when you’re assertive. It gets me hot when you tell me what you want.”

  I back away, taking her hand, marching her to the entrance. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes.”

  “I am definitely so wet.” She giggles beside me, stumbling on the ground. I halt in my steps. When I sweep her up in one motion, she gasps. Wraps her arms around my neck and plants her lips on my mouth. “You are so sexy.”

  I manage to get her through the door without killing us both on the rickety wooden steps, kicking off my shoes in the kitchen and the door closed behind me.

  Her roommate—Donovan, I think she said his name was—is sitting at the counter when we bust in while sucking face, his mouth slack-jawed at the sight of us, soaking and dripping from the rain.

  “Um, hiii?”

  “Donovan,” Laurel says breathlessly, still flushed. “This is Rhett. Rhett, my
roommate Donovan.”

  “Hey man.” I give him a nod. “We’re just going to…” My head jerks toward the hallway.

  “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.”

  That’s good, because I’m already halfway down the hall, walking down it sideways so I don’t bang Laurel into the wall, still carrying this sexy, waterlogged wisp of a girl until I find the bathroom. She feels so fucking good in my arms I could carry her around all damn day and not get tired of it.

  Setting her down, I bend to start the warm water in the shower.

  Wordlessly, we start stripping once the door is closed, tearing off our clothes in tandem. I peel off my sweatshirt. T-shirt. Track pants and briefs, kicking them into a sodden pile.

  Laurel stands in just a lace bra and black leggings, and though she hardly needs my help getting naked, I get down on my knees, pulling down the waistband of her pants, kissing her abs in the process. Kissing the tender flesh above her panty line.

  Pull the black fabric down her hips. Thighs. She steps out of them, one foot at a time until they’re lying in a heap on top of mine.

  My mouth settles on the mound beneath her panties; they’re damp too, but I’m determined to make them wet. Her hands grip the counter, bracing herself when I hike her leg over my shoulder. Bury my face between her thighs and suck through her underwear.

  Her head tips back, moan throaty when I pull those down too. Tongue sinks into her pussy when her legs spread wider.

  The sounds she makes are unintelligible. Indelicate. Desperate and quiet.

  So fucking hot.

  And she’s all mine.

  When she comes, I lift her effortlessly, setting her in the shower. Step in behind her, under the spray, unclasping her bra and tossing it onto the tile bathroom floor.

  I take a pink bar of soap, lathering up my hands, palms gliding up her naked, damp flesh. Run them over her front, cupping her heavy breasts.

  God, I’ve always wanted to do that.

  And now I am.

  My hands are on her tits and my hard dick is wedged between her ass cheeks where it’s nice and tight and warm. It’s like fucking heaven and I don’t want to leave.

  Laurel moans again, arm reaching around to grab me when my mouth hits the column of her neck and sucks her shoulder, my hips beginning a slow thrust against her crack.