American Honey

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “Then you can have them.” She lifts her head and brushes her lips across me. My whole being lights up. There’s nothing at this moment I want more. Laney pulls my shirt over my head then goes for the button of my jeans. I love that she’s not shy, that she knows exactly what she wants. Which, right now, is me. After a few seconds of frenzied hands, we’re both stripped completely naked. I grab the other blanket and cover us as I nestle myself back between her knees. Laney folds her arms around me, bringing us as close as we can possibly be. I touch every part of her I can, skin-to-skin, mouth-to-mouth. I slip my hand between our bodies and skim her clit with one finger. She whimpers. It spurs me on, so I slip the same finger inside her and her body tenses.

  “Oh, God …” She digs her nails into my shoulders. I finger her slow and suck on her neck. “Kam, please not like this.”

  “Not like what? You have to tell me what you want, Laney.”

  “You. Only you.” She attacks my mouth, and I almost combust. I reach for my pants and pull out my wallet, then two blue foil packets. Laney grabs one. She tears it open, removes the condom, then reaches down between us. I watch as she sheaths my erection; the feel of her hands is euphoric.

  “Fuck, I need to be inside you.” I pump my hips against her palm.

  “No one is stopping you.” She opens her legs a little wider. I love this girl. I am stupidly, ridiculously in love with Laney Summers. I push inside her gradually, savoring every measured inch. Her body welcoming me like a warm embrace. Laney wraps her legs around my waist, and we start to move, searching for a comfortable rhythm. After a minute or two we find it, and that’s when all sense and reason fades away. There’s only Laney; underneath me, folded around me, seeping inside me.

  “Kam, you feel so good.” She flexes her hips, like I can’t thrust deep enough. Her muscles clench and her eyes close, as her breathing becomes choppy. “Please don’t stop.”

  “Never.” I push her toward her orgasm, giving her everything she demands from my body until she breaks. Being with Laney is beyond amazing; her smell, her sounds, the way she feels. It’s sensation overload.

  “Oh, God!” She comes in a rush, propelling my release. With my own climax threatening, I wring out every drop of ecstasy from her I can.

  As she writhes and moans beneath me, I explode, my body seizing in pure rapture. When my orgasm releases me, I drop down into Laney’s waiting arms. She hugs me tight. I hug her back; scenting her skin, skimming my teeth against her flesh, memorizing every luscious inch of her.

  “Is that the first time you ever blew the whistle on the fifty-yard line?” she asks while gliding her fingers up and down my back.

  I chuckle. “Yes. You?”

  Laney laughs. “Definitely.”

  “How was it?”

  “Unforgettable.”

  I peck her on the lips. I am idiotically happy at the moment. And it’s not because I just got laid. I very reluctantly withdraw from Laney --I could stay buried in her all night—and roll onto my back, snuggling her into the crook of my arm. We lay quietly, me rubbing her hip, her rubbing my chest. For the first time in months, everything feels right. It’s like when Laney is next to me my life is aligned. I kiss her head.

  “What was that for?”

  “Nothin’.” I shrug. “Can’t a guy just kiss his girlfriend?”

  She glances up at me. “Is that what I am?”

  “Well, Lemon, when I said strings I wasn’t talking about shoelaces.”

  “Glad you made that clear.” She tightens her arm around me. I smile.

  “Why do you always smell so good?” I breathe her in. That strange, exotic scent is tingling my senses.

  “Because I shower.”

  I pinch her playfully. “Smart-ass city girl.”

  “Hey!” She flinches, giggling. “It’s Plumeria.”

  “Plum-whatta?”

  Now she is full-blown laughing. “It’s a flower that grows in Hawaii. My mom always brings me back perfume when she goes.”

  “Hawaii, huh? She ever take you on her business trips?”

  “If she can. And if I’m not in school. Why? Want to go to Hawaii?”

  “Might not be a bad idea. I’m going to have some free time on my hands.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m not going to play football anymore.” That’s the first time I’ve admitted that out loud. It feels like someone just stabbed me.

  “Why aren’t you going to play football anymore?” Laney asks softly, snuggling closer to me.

  I huff. “Because I can’t throw anymore, Lemon. My accuracy is gone. And without that, I’m no good to anyone.”

  Laney frowns. “Kam, you really believe your football career is over?”

  I want to say no, but it’s time to face facts. “I think it is.”

  Laney stares at me for a long minute. “How was it before you had the aneurysm?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean, what did you do differently then compared to now?”

  “Nothing. I just picked up a football and threw. I never had to think about it.”

  “Maybe that’s your problem. You’re so worried, you’re over thinking it.”

  I gaze blankly at Laney. Over thinking it? Is that possible? “I never thought of it like that.”

  “Well this night is all about new perspective, right?”

  “I guess.” I nuzzle her neck and nip at her skin.

  My Lemon is smart, sassy, and now psychoanalytic. I hit the jackpot with this one.

  Chapter Nine

  I hold the football in my hands as the dawn peeks out from the behind the horizon.

  It’s Monday morning. Laney and I spent the entire weekend together making up for lost time. I don’t think seven days a week, twenty-four seven would be enough time to spend with Laney. The girl has me hooked, and there’s no place I’d rather be. Except maybe on a football field. Preferably with Laney. Naked.

  I roll the ball between my palms and inhale the smell of early morning. Everything is peaceful. Everything is quiet. I stare at the tire swing as pink light casts its luminescent glow.

  Maybe you’re over thinking it. Maybe she’s right.

  I close my eyes. What do I have to lose? Placing my fingers between the laces, I just let go; tossing the ball at the tire. I send every dream, every hope, and every expectation spiraling through the air. I open my eyes just in time to see the football pass through the hole. Something inside me lifts, then cracks. I pick up another football and throw again, sending it straight through the hole. Tears actually prick my eyes. I throw pass after pass, the way I once had. Almost every attempt hitting the target. I wipe my eyes after the bin is empty. “Yes!” I scream as loud as I can. The heaviness I’ve been carrying around the past few months now seems like nothing more than a weightless cloud. It feels like I just won a war.

  I walk back into my house like I’m on air. My mother is standing at the kitchen counter. Her eyes are bright and brimming with tears, she must have been watching. She hugs me. “Kam, I want you to know, whether you play football or not, I love you. I never thought to tell you that because I thought you already knew. But now I’m making it perfectly clear. I proud of you for who you are, not what you can do.”

  I hug her tighter. “Thanks, Mom.” I adore this woman. I don’t know what I would do without her. Oh, right, laundry, according to Laney.

  My mom lets go and holds my face in her hands. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I respond, and she releases me.

  “I gotta get to school.”

  “Picking up Laney?” my mom asks slyly as she opens the refrigerator.

  “Yup,” I smirk, and walk out of the room.

  ***

  Laney and I drive to school quietly while Justin Timberlake sings about it not being a bad thing to fall in love. At the moment, I’m inclined to agree. I squeeze her hand and glance over at the city girl whose presence, when we first met, felt like sudden impact. And stil
l does in a way.

  I pull into the packed parking lot. Everyone is hanging out, not sweating first period. The last week of school the vibe is laid back. Finals are done, sports are over, and summer break is about to begin. You can feel the excitement in the air.

  “Ready for your last week as a high school student?” Laney smiles at me.

  I look at the brick building I’ve spent the last four years in. Lots of memories, lots of fun, some regrets.

  “Yeah, I think I am,” I smile back.

  Laney opens the door, but I snatch her hand. “One thing, though.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  I reach into the back seat. “I want you to wear this.” I hold up the shirt. Laney looks down at my practice jersey and then back up at me. “I know it, and you know it, now I want everyone else to know exactly who you belong to.”

  She beams and pulls on the jersey. It goes perfect with her little cut-off shorts and Converse sneakers. I wonder if one of these days I can persuade her to wear a pair of cowboy boots. Preferably naked.

  “I think it’s only fair if I wear something of yours you should wear something of mine.”

  I look at her funny.

  “Relax. It’s not my underwear or anything.” She giggles, as she removes a black braided bracelet from her wrist. I would have never even noticed it; she’s wearing like twenty of them. “I made it for you.”

  “You did?” I slip it on. It feels right.

  “Hmmm hmmm. I wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

  My face falls. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Maybe. I still haven’t decided where to go to college.”

  “What are your options?” I swallow the lump in my throat. I know Laney has never been thrilled to live here, even if she did say the county was growing on her.

  “New York, New Jersey, Maryland, and Alabama.”

  “Alabama?” My interest is piqued.

  “Yes. Miranda talked me into the applying to the University of Alabama. She has this nutty hope we could go to college together.”

  “And you’re having trouble deciding?”

  “I’m not sure the new star quarterback for the Crimson Tide wants his high school girlfriend toting after him all year.” She bites her lip. It’s sweet and sexy all at the same time.

  “Laney? Are you crazy? I’m personally driving to Tuscaloosa so you can drop off your deposit.” I pull her

  over the seat and into my arms. Then I kiss her so hard she squeaks. I hope everyone sees, too.

  “So you wouldn’t mind if I stayed?” She bats her eyelashes. A piece of dyed red hair is falling over her face.

  “Mind? Lemon, if you decided to go anywhere else, I would haul you back here. No questions, no arguments.”

  Laney kisses me, and there’s so much heat behind it, the windows may just shatter. “Keep that up, sugar, and we may end up in the storage room.” I joke.

  “One, don’t ever call me sugar. Two, I think we still have twenty minutes before first period.” Laney smiles shamelessly.

  “I love you.” I laugh.

  Laney freezes. Her blue eyes, wide. Whoops that just slipped out. I wait for a response. And wait and wait. Should I worry yet? Then Laney relaxes in my arms and slips her hands around my neck. “I love you, too.”

  Words have never sounded so good. Except for ‘you have been accepted to the University of Alabama.’

  “Let’s go, Lemon. I want to show my new bracelet off.” I smack her ass.

  She kisses my neck.

  We each step out of my pickup and meet at the back of the cab. I grab her hand and look up; that’s when I notice everyone staring. Laney fidgets.

  “Why are you fidgeting? I thought you were used to being in the spotlight?”

  “I never said I was used to it.” Laney squeezes my hand. “I’d rather it be reserved for the men in my life,” she says so only I can hear her.

  “Well that better change fast. Because if they didn’t know you before, they sure as hell are going to know you now.” I look down at her.

  Lucky number seven: Kamdyn Fucking Ellis’ girl.

  The End

  Carey Heywood

  Chapter One

  “Did you hear someone bought the Wilson place?”

  I glance up from my breakfast and into Bess’s pointed stare. What’d I do? “What does that mean for me, Bess?”

  A Cheshire-Cat-like grin spreads across her face. “I wondered if you could run this apple pie I baked over to her.”

  Her?

  I shrug. “Sure. When?”

  She turns her back to me and nonchalantly replies, “How about before suppertime, after you’ve showered and changed?”

  This smells like a setup. I’ve known Bess my entire life. She’s like an unrelated aunt and a second mama. She’s been more prone to meddle now that my dad’s retired.

  I’ve been slowly taking over my parents’ farm since his health deteriorated. My mom and dad even moved out of the main house, moving down to a cabin at the back of the property. My dad’s always been a go getter. Our hope is that tucked away back there, he’ll be forced to take it easy and relax. So far it’s been working.

  Our farm, while owned by my family, is also home to three other families in search of a simpler life. We eat what we grow and barter for the things we need and donate any surplus to the local food bank.

  Bess would like me to settle down and start a family of my own. I have nothing against women. I’ve just been so busy that none of the single women I know have held my attention.

  I had a serious girlfriend a few years back, but farm life wasn’t what she was looking for. From what I hear, she’s married and has a kid living in the city. It’ll take a certain kind of girl to want this type of life. I love the families who call this farm home, even when it feels like I can’t get a moment of peace to myself.

  With the weather turning warmer, I’m moving from the main house to another cabin on the property. It’s within walking distance of the main house but gives me peace and quiet during the spring and summer months.

  I live in the main house during the winter just because it costs less for us to heat one place. The cabin my parents have moved to has no electricity, but is small enough that the wood stove is all they need for the winter.

  “Want to tell me more about this new neighbor, Bess?”

  Her cheeks redden and it’s clear she knows I’m on to her. “Her name is Bethany, and Mrs. Brendal said she was a cute little thing, so I didn’t think there’d be anything wrong with you going over and being neighborly.”

  “You know I don’t like setups, Bess,” I warn.

  “It’s not a setup. I’ve never even spoken two words to the girl. I just figured, since it sounded like she was around your age, it made more sense for you to go over rather than me.”

  I cock a brow at her. “And why’s that?”

  “You need more friends your age, Beau.”

  I groan, but it in no way stops her.

  “You work your tail off on this farm. When was the last time you went out or did something just for yourself?” I start to speak but she lifts her hand cutting me off. “You are just like your father, and if I have to banish you from the farm so you’ll relax, I will.”

  My shoulders sag. I push back from the table and cross the room to pull her into a hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Message received, loud and clear.”

  “We all love you, Beau. We just want what’s best for you.”

  Nodding, I swipe a muffin and head for the door before talk can get any deeper than it already has. I pass Ben, one of the kids living on the farm. He’s maybe ten and likes to think he’s grown.

  “Women,” he mutters as I walk past.

  Snorting, I nod. “Tell me about it.”

  My morning passes quickly, the grumble in my gut letting me know it’s time to head inside for lunch. After spending most of my morning caring for the few animals we have on the farm, a quick w
hiff confirms I now smell like them. I head straight for the shower. Bess will want me to deliver that pie after lunch, and if I’m already clean by the time I see her again, she’ll have no reason to fuss at me.

  In no mood to impress our new neighbor, I pull on an old t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. The insoles of my work boots are wearing thin, so I pull on an old pair of sneakers before I head back downstairs. Once this pie is delivered, I’ll spend the rest of my day moving back into my cabin.

  Bess frowns when she sees what I’m wearing but silently passes the pie. No words are needed to tell me she had hoped I’d be wearing a dress shirt and slacks. She’s lucky I’m going willingly seeing as how I’m the lamb being led to slaughter.

  My precious cargo, the pie, rides on the passenger side footwell. I can’t risk the hell that will befall me should it slide off the seat.

  Mrs. Wilson was our closest neighbor until she passed away. It’s still a five-minute drive from our farm to hers. Mrs. Wilson didn’t have as much acreage as us, but did have a pretty little pasture and stable setup to board horses. Pulling up to her house, I glance around, looking to see if our new neighbor is planning the same thing.

  The stables don’t appear to be recently used. It’s rained the last three days, and unless she’s using the back entrance, there would be more signs of traffic. I walk around my truck to retrieve the pie from the passenger side. There’s only one other car parked by the house, a small coupe with no trailer hitch. At this point, I’m guessing no on the horse boarding.

  I amble up the front steps and rap my knuckles on the edge of the screen door. A crash, followed quickly by a yelp, has me pulling open the screen door and opening the front door.

  “Hello? My name is Beau. I live on the next farm over. Are you all right?”

  A muffled groan coming from the back of the house has me dashing toward the kitchen, pie still in my hand. The sight I come upon catches me so off guard I almost drop it.

  There’re two bare legs sporting some hot pink flip-flops peeking out from underneath a toppled over two-legged table. How in the world? I skip asking questions and jump into action. Quickly setting the pie on the counter next to me, I reach forward to lift the table off my new neighbor.