Kissing Her Crush

by Ophelia London

  “My guitar.” She stopped chewing, like what he’d said made her nervous. He grabbed an apple and took a bite. “The other night at Hershey Lounge, you mentioned you’d seen me play at Phillip Arthur.”

  “And you casually mentioned you play at open mike nights.” She threw a balled up napkin at his head. “You totally had me going. I thought you were a sexy starving artist.”

  “Aren’t I?”

  “I think we better stop this line of conversation.” She tore off a hunk of bread and tossed it to him. “Eat.”

  They ate in silence for a while. The distant creek, the odd car, crickets, and other nocturnal elements the only sounds.

  “It’s still too dark to see exactly where we are.”

  “Bullfrog Valley,” Luke replied. “It’s one of the suburban parks out here in the sticks that share a trail.”

  “Oh, okay.” She glanced around. “I love running these trails.”

  “I didn’t know you run.”

  “With my job, I’d be bigger than your parents’ house if I didn’t stay active.”

  He scoffed. “You’d look good no matter what size you are. Women get too hung up on scales and dress sizes and calorie counting.”

  “So says the holistic microbiologist.”

  “All I’m saying is, men don’t care about that. Yes, I think it’s important to have a healthy lifestyle—it’s my job to want that—but not to the point of obsessive exercise or starving yourself.”

  Natalie tipped her chin to finish the last of her orange soda, then threw both arms open and pointed at her stomach. “Does it look like I starve myself?” she asked, then hiccupped.

  “You look damn perfect.”

  She lowered her arms and gazed across the darkness at him.

  “I, um, meant you as a generalization, not actually you. I know you’re healthy.” He couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding over her upper body, focusing on a singular area that had nothing to do with a healthy lifestyle, only about being a woman. When his temperature shot to fever pitch, he cleared his throat. “We need to get back to the lab now. Right? How long have we been out here?”

  “Thirty minutes.”

  “Oh.” Only a half hour? They had way too much time left out here alone in the dark. “Cool, that’s cool. The night is still young, or we’re still young, or…” He needed to shut up before he said or did something he couldn’t take back. But he couldn’t just sit here, either, looking at Natalie by lantern light. It was like the tunnel all over again.

  So he pushed his food to the side and grabbed his guitar.

  Natalie lowered the pear she’d been nibbling and didn’t care that her eyes were ready to bug out of her head. Luke was going to play.

  “It’s been awhile,” he said, sitting cross-legged then adjusting the strap around his back. “Can’t think of the last time I played at all.” He held a pick between his lips and strummed. “This thing’s really out of tune.”

  Natalie waited like an anxious groupie while he adjusted the nobs on the neck of the guitar. Soon, strums became a melody, one she recognized as a song by the Eagles, that one about having peaceful, easy feelings.

  “Sing,” she asked.

  “It’s been a really long time since I sang for anyone.” He glanced up and met her eyes. “Okay, but not this one.” His tune morphed from the Eagles to the Beatles. First it was a few bars from “Twist and Shout,” which made Natalie giggle, then it slowed into the opening of “I Will.”

  Luke Elliott was singing.

  The melodic words filled the night air, enfolding her in a silky veil. His voice was soft at first, but as the song went on, it grew stronger; Luke grew stronger and more confident. The lyrics took on new meaning than from all the times she’d heard them before. His singing voice asked if she wanted him to wait a lonely lifetime for her. But with their history, the question should’ve been the other way around.

  He ended by humming the bridge a second time, his eyes closed.

  Front row to a private concert by Luke was teenage Natalie’s fantasy come to life. The whole thing made her slip back into that innocent, infatuated mindset, turning her insides warm and spongy.

  “Luke,” she said softly. “That was beautiful.”

  “I’m rusty.”

  “Beautiful.”

  He glanced at her, strumming the beginning of a new song she didn’t recognize. “You’re very kind to say that.”

  She couldn’t help biting her lip, but it was okay, Luke couldn’t see it clearly in the dark. “I don’t remember you playing that in high school.”

  “I haven’t played it for anyone.”

  “Why did you choose it, and not one of the old standards you’ve played a million times?”

  “I don’t know. I was thinking of another song, but with you sitting here and…I don’t know, I changed my mind.”

  His words—that probably meant nothing—made that spongy, innocent warmth flame in her chest, at the back of her neck. There was nothing innocent about it now. “You said you hadn’t played for a while.”

  “Not for a couple of years.”

  She pressed her lips together before speaking. “Not since before you and Celeste split up?”

  Luke stopped playing and dropped his fingers from the strings. At first, she thought he was angry, but as her eyes focused better, it seemed as though he was blinking out of a fog.

  And then something in his expression read gratitude. For her.

  The impossible idea caused another wave of heat to wash over her body.

  “It’s understandable,” she said, needing to fill the silence. “It was a terrible time in your life. Playing guitar is a happy thing for you, so maybe subconsciously you didn’t want to ruin that positive release while you were going through all the sadness.” She wanted to gag herself but couldn’t stop speaking. “Do you think maybe that’s why you stopped playing? It’s good for you, though, mentally. If it makes you happy like it used to, you should play all the time now, and—” She cut herself off. “Oh, jeez. Sorry, it’s not like I care—I mean, I do care, I care, but… I’ll stop talking now. None of my business. Sorry, mouth zipped.”

  To stop the madness, she pulled her knees up to her chest, pressed a fist over her mouth and looked away. The shadowy shape of a tree was not too far distant. Maybe she could sneak off when Luke wasn’t looking, climb into its branches, and hide. Yes, very good plan.

  “Play another song,” she said when he didn’t say anything. The silence was too excruciating. “Something loud and frivolous and—”

  “Natalie.” Luke’s voice cut in. The tone was as smooth as when he’d been singing. “I’m done playing.”

  “Why?” She stared at him with concern. “I’m sorry. It was thoughtless of me to bring any of that up.”

  “You’re not thoughtless. You’re insightful, irritatingly insightful.”

  “Then, why won’t you play?”

  His eyes pinned on hers while he undid the strap and set his guitar to the side. “Because I’ll need both hands free.”

  “Oh.” Comprehension was slow coming. “Ohhh.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Oxygen hung in her lungs, and her next inhale came in a hot gulp as the gorgeous man of her adolescent dreams crawled over to her.

  She opened her mouth; wasn’t there something important she should be telling him?

  “Shhh.” Luke interrupted whatever it was. He knelt before her and ran a finger across her cheek, over her chin until her eyes fluttered closed.

  His lips brushed hers once, twice, his breath warm against her chilly skin, making her dizzy. A hand cupped her cheek, rougher and manlier than she remembered. As he kissed her again, his hand slid to the back of her neck. She felt him fist her hair, felt the moment they both stopped breathing.

  The calm before the storm…

  It was too much to remain still, and she took his face in her hands, needing his mouth to put out the fire. Luke groaned over her li
ps, and his palms splayed across the front of her thighs, adding fuel to the flames.

  Simultaneously, they rose to their knees, and his arms wrapped all the way around her. He was warmer than the blanket that had fallen to the ground. Natalie heard the gasp that escaped her own lips as he pulled her to his chest. Silently, he looked her in the eyes. Some kind of earnest expression sat behind them, but it was too dark and she was too blind. All she could see was that mouth.

  So she kissed her teenage fantasy, the popular boy she used to dream would see something special in her and love her forever. The man kissed her back.

  Luke’s fingers combed through her hair, making her neck arch. She could taste what he’d just eaten, the sweetness of an apple, minty tea, a deeper something she’d tasted before in the tunnel—something that only belonged to Luke.

  Gravity changed, and her back was flat on the blankets, with gorgeous Luke Elliott hovering over her. Braced by his elbows, his mouth started on hers, then ran a trail across her cheek, over her jawline. She fisted the back of his shirt in both hands when his lips made contact with the sensitive spot at the base of her ear.

  “Hmm, you like that,” he whispered, his breath hot and intoxicating.

  “I like…everything.”

  Luke chuckled, then kissed the same spot, slowly, over and over. “Your neck,” he said, trailing his mouth down the side of her throat, stopping once or twice for a more thorough inspection. “It’s ludicrous, but I swear I taste chocolate coming out of your pores.”

  “What did you expect?” she said, cradling the back of his head.

  He pushed off the ground and gazed down at her, all his manly hotness right there, hers for the taking.Without a word, he took both her hands, and extended them over her head.

  A gush of warmth swirled in her stomach as her core coiled, every other muscle going weak.

  “Let me get a better taste.” With one strong hand pinning both of hers to the ground, his other swept the hair from her neck, exposing both sides.

  She closed her eyes and took it in, took everything in. His spicy smell, his weight, his mouth on her skin, the sounds he made in response to her sounds, the sheer, unspeakable, chemical reaction that happens in the brain when a person is completely blissed out.

  A sensation that could never be bottled or even wrapped in Hershey foil.

  “Ow,” she said. “I think a pear is stabbing my spine.” She put her palms on his chest and rolled them so she was on top. “Better,” she said, sitting up so she could gaze down at him. “Any fruit digging into you?”

  “I have no idea.” He reached out both hands and cupped her cheeks.

  Another burst of chemistry made her lean down and kiss him, her hands on either side of his head, bracing her weight until they began to shake. With his hands sliding around her back, Luke eased her onto his hard, muscly chest, and she sank into him, their kisses growing deeper, their paces changing back and forth from hot frenzy, to slow and deep.

  He rolled them again. Natalie loved his heavy weight pinning her down, their bodies almost as close as they could be. Almost. At the thought, she felt for the bottom of his shirt. She’d forgotten it was a button down, not easily pulled over his head. So she started in on the buttons, their mouths still connected in their latest frenzy.

  Wordlessly, Luke rose off of her a few inches, giving her access to that forever long row of buttons. How many were there? Fifty? If she had any strength left, she’d fist the front of his shirt and rip it open like the rock star she used to dream he was.

  After she managed to get it halfway open, she slid her hands inside, fingers gliding over his hard, ripped chest. She pushed the shirt back from his shoulders and reached her mouth to his collarbone. At the same time, his hands slid inside her shirt.

  It was right then that Natalie caught fire.

  Luke smelled the smoke but ignored it. How could he be expected to think of anything besides Natalie’s curvy body beneath him? Or her soft skin under his hands as he glided them up and up and up.

  Before he’d lost himself completely, the Boy Scout part of his brain kicked awake and glanced to where the kerosene lantern was on its side.

  Driven by instinct, he rolled off Natalie, grabbed a corner of the blanket, and gave one hard yank until she and the remains of the picnic flew onto the grass. He heard her yelp, but there hadn’t been time to give a warning, he’d only acted, using the wool blanket to smother the fire.

  It took a few seconds before the flames were extinguished. Another minute, and it could’ve been a real problem.

  Heart pounding like a marching band, Luke sat back on his heels and exhaled, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. Once he was sure the kerosene had been soaked up, he turned to see Natalie lying on her side, probably in the same position as when she’d landed.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her tangled, sexy hair was in her face, her eyes peeking through the long, wild strands. “What happened?”

  “We kicked over the lantern.”

  She rose onto her knees. “We started a forest fire?”

  “I smothered it before it got out of control.” Before I got out of control.

  His hands, now covered in kerosene, still burned from where he’d been touching her. His mouth needed to be on hers again. Everything felt unfinished, interrupted. Like the rest of his life since seeing her that first night.

  Natalie pushed her hair back and crawled to him like a cat. “You’re sure it’s out?”

  “Positive.” He moved the blanket to show the area where the spilled oil had spread the flames.

  “You didn’t get burned, did you? Are you hurt?” She grabbed the soiled blanket from him, pushed it aside, then took his hand and flipped it over, then the other one. He wanted to lace his fingers through hers and squeeze. Then kiss her soft little hand, kiss her mouth, finish this thing like he always had—physically satisfied with emotions untouched.

  “I’m fine,” he said, knowing he couldn’t finish anything with Natalie. Luckily, all they’d done was kiss. Yes, again. This time though, he couldn’t blame red, wavy lights, or the rocking motion of the boat. He’d known exactly what he was doing when he’d put down his guitar.

  What she’d said about Celeste, and how he’d stopped playing music because of her. He’d never thought of it that way, but she was right. For some reason, Natalie helping him see that made her more appealing than ever.

  “We need to scrub our hands,” he said, moving away from her. “We’re covered in kerosene.”

  “Ew, we stink. And look at the mess.”

  Luke followed her eye line to the grass where their entire picnic was now scattered. “I’ll clean it up. There’s a faucet around the corner. No soap, but you can rinse your hands.”

  She stood but took only a few steps. “I can’t see.”

  “Take the other lantern.”

  “Then how will you see?”

  “Okay, we’ll stick together.” They gathered all their food and wrappers and dumped them in the trashcan. His scorched camping blankets were probably ruined, so he stuffed them in the trash, as well.

  Natalie was carrying his guitar and holding the lantern. “I think that’s everything,” she said, already leading the way toward the faucet. “We’re going to need industrial soap to get this off. There’s some at the lab.”

  “Some at the house, too.”

  They both turned to look up the dark road. Knowing what they’d find up there was a huge house with too many empty bedrooms to count, they said in unison: “The lab.”

  It made Luke laugh, and then he wanted to beat his skull against a tree for a while. But at least they were on the same page. Both staying here and going to the house was full of unspeakable temptation.

  At least at the lab, nothing could happen. It was a sterile, scientific environment. Holy.

  Back at the Jeep, Luke extinguished the lamp, and they were on the road to the med center. The safe zone. Seeing Natalie out of the corner of his ey
es, thinking about their latest kiss, their first kiss, their fire, made him floor it to that safe zone.

  Chapter Nine

  “I feel like I need a shower, after all.”

  As Luke said this, Natalie gave him the eye. His shirt was untucked and still halfway open from her greedy fingers. Good golly, his chest, the lines and dents, the speckles of dark hair. She could stare at it all day. They’d both scrubbed their hands clean, which were probably the only parts of their bodies that didn’t reek of kerosene.

  “They have a few here,” she said.

  “I’m not about to strip down in the hallway to use one of those Hazmat showers, even if it is the middle of the night.”

  It took Natalie a few seconds to blink that image out of her mind. Luke stripping in the hall? “Um, there’re private showers in some of the restrooms.”

  “Cool.”

  “I think I might join you.”

  “Now there’s a plan.”

  She rolled her eyes. “In a different shower than yours.”

  “Can’t say I didn’t try.” He snapped his fingers. “My clothes deserve their own Hazmat bag.”

  “Mine too. I always keep another outfit in my car for kerosene lamp oil spill emergencies.”

  “So do I.” Luke slapped a hand on his chest like he was shocked. “Tonight’s been full of so many revelations.”

  “Funny,” was all she could say.

  Neither of them had mentioned the kiss. Natalie would be content if the subject was never broached. They both knew it was a mistake, so why bother talking about it?

  She was a chemist, so she understood the very real chemistry that connects people. She and Luke had been caught in that reaction, and their chemistry was way too explosive when kept unchecked. Since science and plain old human logic were not her strengths when it came to him, they simply couldn’t be alone in the dark again. Like ever.

  “Your shower is two hallways that way,” she said, feeling left over charges from their latest explosion.

  “And yours?” He cocked an eyebrow. “In case killer geese attack and you need rescuing.”

  “Barring any flesh-eating birds, I’ll meet you back here after we both—”