by Sally Henson
“I know you do.” He holds me close while he speaks through my hair, brushing by my ear with his breath. “You show me you do—every time we're together. Tonight, in the barn. I know we need to keep us a secret, but ... you like kissing me.”
You do. Accept it. Embrace it.
I snort at his kissing accusation even if it is totally true. “You’re right. I’m just … scared, I guess—making excuses.” I fit my hand in his.
“I couldn’t sleep. I had to come over and see you.” His arms move to my waist.
“I couldn’t sleep either.”
So, we hit a roadblock, big deal. We still want us as more than friends. Our secret is safe from our parents. I still want to kiss him all the time.
19
Regan
Lane scowls. “What’s so funny?”
Giggles start pouring out of me. “Pajama pants and rubber boots?”
He puffs out breath through his nostrils, weaving my hair through his fingers. “I wasn’t thinking about what I looked like, I just got in my truck and came over.”
He’d look good bald-headed, wearing dirty clothes. I tousle his hair and then comb my fingers through it, fixing it nice and neat. “Where’s your truck?” I look around and don’t see it anywhere.
He smirks. “I parked by the bridge and came down the path.”
Hmm, he doesn’t act like he found his present. “Did you notice anything different about your truck?”
His brows sink. “No. Should I have?”
I tilt my head and tease. “Nothing in the back?”
He mimics my actions. “I don’t think I even checked.”
Now he has me scowling. “What?”
“If there was anything in there, well …” His lips mash into a thin line. “Who knows where it’s at now. I kind of drove home like a maniac from your house.” His lips twist.
I clutch at his shirt. “Oh, no.” My head drops. No. I strapped it in. I look up at him. “I think it’s still there.” My insides begin to jump around.
His mouth widens into a hopeful grin. “Let’s go check it out.”
We run down the path to Fox Creek, Lane in his clodhopper boots, and me with my cold, bare feet. He carries me on his back through the tall grass along the creek to his truck.
“Wait.” I stop him at the driver’s door and slide down his back. “Let me check first.”
He sighs, hands me his little flashlight, and folds his arms.
I shine it up in his face and smile when he squints his eyes and turns away. He’s so cute. “Sorry.” I tease and turn to tiptoe through the tall grass to the bed of his truck. A couple of bullfrogs croak and plop into the water. I take a deep breath before I look over the edge. Please still be there. Please still be there. Please still be there.
I rise up on my tiptoes and dare to look at the spot where I thought I secured it in place. My breath blows across my lips as I collapse against the truck. Whew, it’s still there.
I point to the front of the truck. “Turn on your headlights and face away from me.”
“Come on. I’m not ten years old.” He complains, but he does it anyway.
I climb over the edge of the truck bed, unlatch the case and grab hold of the handle. “No peeking.” I hop off the side and then reach over the bedrail of the bed, checking to make sure he's not sneaking a look. It seems heavier, hoisting it up and over the bedrail this time around.
“What are you doing? Can I look now?”
“No! Keep your eyes closed.” The tall grass rustles every time I take a step no matter how stealthy I try to be. I’m so excited, my heart beats faster and faster. My lungs suck in another deep breath as I quietly step to the front of the truck, hoping he loves it as much as I think he will. Keeping my eyes on him, I rest the bottom of the case on the ground.
Lane has his hands over his eyes, but I can see his dimples show underneath them. His bottom lip’s curved to a smile.
“Can I look now?” He sounds like a kid in a candy store who's about to burst.
“Yes.” I stand there waiting, holding my breath, watching his eyes, his body language.
He drops his hands, and his eyes—dancing with excitement—find mine. They scroll down to the case and become round the same time as his mouth.
I’m about to explode. “Happy Birthday.”
His O-shaped lips curl back up into his smile that always sucks me in and then drops back to a frown.
My heart drops. I lower my head, but keep my eyes on him.
He swallows hard, forcing the word “Regan ....” His eyes wash all over me and then he rushes to pull me into his arms before pressing his lips to mine.
My heart bounces back up, swelling to the size of a football in my chest. I feel ten feet tall. “Open it.”
Lane takes the case, places it on top of the hood and unzips it. I stand beside him, watching his eyes grow wider as he opens the flap. He takes a long glance at me and looks back at the only perfect birthday gift I could think of.
“Holy … Regan. Did you buy this for me?”
I twist sideways, tilt my head, and shrug. “The guitar is from me and the case is from Tobi.”
He grabs my shoulders and pulls me closer. His hard, furrowed brow shows he’s angry, but the glistening in his eyes tell me otherwise. “This is too much.” He slowly shakes his head.
“Do you like it?” I'm pretty sure he loves it.
“It's amazing, but it costs way too much. You have to take it back.”
I’m standing on clouds. “It's non-refundable.” I lift my chin and use my highbrow, determined, there's no-way-I'm-taking-this-back tone.
Lane snorts and rubs the back of his neck … he knows I'm not taking it back. He strokes the guitar. “Fender Standard Telecaster. Did you know Brown Sunburst is my favorite?” He looks back to me.
I wrap my arms around his waist from the side and hug him. “I listen, even when you think I'm not.”
“You are …” He turns in my arms, shaking his head and tries to look angry with me. In a blink of an eye, his expression turns to …
I can’t take it anymore. I rise on my toes and whisper three little words. “Kiss me already.”
He slides his arm around my waist, keeping his eyes focused on mine as his lips gently press against my cheek and then to my lips. Slowly his lids fall shut and his kiss becomes more. My heart kicks up a notch, my chest swelling as if a balloon of elation inflates inside me. His heart pours out to me through his kiss.
Feeling this electricity inside me is still scary, but I—I like kissing him too much for it to stop me. It's as if I'm jumping off the cliffs, but better. Exhilarating. Thrilling. The quickening of my blood circulation warms everything but my trembling hands. I slide them under Lane’s shirt.
He flinches and then pauses. His hungry eyes seek mine for a second. Quickly, he picks up the pace again. Warm, smooth skin and spicy kisses make me forget about the cold. He arches over me pulling me closer.
Uh-oh. The butterflies multiply and escape their nesting place, migrating to my extremities and everywhere in between, lifting me off the ground. I'm about to get in too deep. My hands slide around to his chest and he flinches again yet pulls me closer.
He straightens us up when I resist and pulls his lips away.
“Lane,” I whisper breathlessly.
His eyes open at half-mast. Lane shakes his head and blinks as if he's trying to wake up. He clears his throat and swallows. “I'm beyond head over heels for you.” Lane’s voice is low and raspy. Without letting loose, he puts some space between us.
My heart flip-flops. How is he so ... Okay, like there is so much going on in my head right now, I can't even identify it all.
Don't even try to analyze it, Regan, it's over your head.
“You look like you’re on drugs, Lane Cary.” Even my words are coming out crazy.
“I am.” He leans in, pulling me close again, and kisses me on the mouth. “I taste it on your lips. Now that it's in my system, I c
an't get enough.” He brushes my lips again. “I'm hooked.”
Oh … my … kiss me already. I dive into his kiss. No holding back, enamored with his words, lost among the flames we’re tangled in on this overgrown path. Lost in each other.
When Lane pulls away, emotions flicker in his eyes like an old-fashioned motion picture. Some I recognize—some I don’t. This time we both shake our heads, blink profusely, trying to wake up from a dream. This kiss was too much, more than the last, but I gave in and so did he.
Lane interrupts our silent words and excited breathing. “You bought me a guitar.” He howls the words into the night air and twirls me around in his arms. Pulling me tight against his body, we dance in the beams of the headlights through the darkness of night, as he hums an unfamiliar tune. “You’re amazing, Regan Stone. Thank you.”
Above his erratically beating heart, I rest my head and listen as it sings to me in harmony with the melodic tune vibrating from his vocal cords. Today has been one disaster after another, a wakeup call. But it’s ending in kisses wrapped in sweetness.
20
Lane
My head begins to bob. I stiffen, shake my head, and blink profusely. My eyes will not focus this morning. They won’t even stay open. Mr. Warren’s voice is a lullaby. There’s a blur of a body in front of the class, and I can’t keep my lids from sliding shut. Muffled voices turn into an echo of silence as I slip into the darkness.
My body shakes from an outside force. “Mr. Cary.” The shaking continues. “Mr. Cary.”
Stillness and silence overcomes me once again.
Ice-cold liquid splashes over the back of my head. I gasp and jerk my body up in my seat. Water drips down my neck.
“Mr. Cary, I would like to see you in my office.”
I look around. My class is long gone and the next class is filtering in.
“Right now, Cary.” Mr. Warren’s gritty voice rumbles over his shoulder.
Crap! “Yes, sir.” I scramble to my feet and sling my backpack over my shoulder, shaking the water from my hair. Why did I even bother to come to class? I don’t think I heard one word Mr. Warren said the whole time.
I lean over and wipe my face with my shirt and follow him out of the classroom to his office two doors down. I stop in the entrance and wait for his instruction.
He nods toward me as he sets his satchel down. “Shut the door and have a seat.”
“Yes, sir.” I do as he says.
He takes his seat behind the desk in the oversized desk chair. “Mr. Cary, you fell asleep in my class.”
I glance down at my hands and then look him in the eye to face my consequences. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.
“Do I bore you, Mr. Cary? Because if that’s the case, why don’t you save us both the time and drop my class?”
I scoot to the edge of my seat, shaking my head emphatically. “Oh, no, no, sir. I like your class. I love history. It’s- “
“I don’t have the time to listen to your bullshit, Cary.” He folds his arms across his chest. “If you’re going to sleep through class, at least have the courtesy to do it in your own bed, not my classroom.”
I nod, eyes focused on his pristine desk. It’s not his classroom, technically. He’s the teaching assistant, but seems to do most of Professor Patton’s bidding for this class. I need to cut back on my hours at work. Falling asleep in class, skipping class … I can’t get in that groove.
“Now, tell me.” He pushes his seat far enough away from the desk to plop his loafer covered feet on the edge. “You’re from Stelmo?”
I scoot my back against the chair. What’s this have to do with sleeping in class? “Yes, sir.”
“Drop the sir stuff, I’m talking to you as Matt, not Mr. Warren right now.”
“Yes, si-, uh …” I lower my head, trying to gain some composure. “Yeah, I’m from Stelmo.”
In one motion, he drops his feet and leans his elbows on the desk. “Would you happen to be acquainted with one Lincoln Stone?” His fingertips pad against each other like a mad professor waiting for the results of his experiment.
I narrow my eyes. What did Lincoln do to this guy, steal his girlfriend or something?
I answer tentatively, “Yeah.”
His heavy eyebrows hang low over his dark eyes. “How acquainted are you?”
Crap. I fidget in my seat. I don’t know if I should give him the truth or lie. If Linc gets me a low grade in this class I’m so going to kick his butt. I clear my throat. “I’m dating his sister.” That says I know him, but gives me some room to distance myself if I need to.
“Ha!” He pounds the desk with his fist, leans back in his chair and chuckles.
I flinch. The pounding wakes me up even more. Whoa, I’m not sure what’s happening here.
A wide smile breaks across his face. “I used to room with him. What’s he up to? Still in the Navy, I assume.”
My muscles relax. Okay, they’re friends. “Yeah, he’s in the Navy. I saw him a couple months ago.” I shift in my seat. “I’d like to stay here and talk, but I need to get to my next class.”
He straightens in his chair. “Of course.”
“Maybe we could meet up over lunch sometime. Linc and I used to be close as kids. I’d love to hear any college stories you’ve got.” What I’d really like to do is get some answers for Regan.
He stands and pulls a card out of his pocket. “Send me a text. I want to find out what he’s been up to.”
I stand and take the card, shoving it in my back pocket, wishing I could explain why I fell asleep, but I don’t have the time. I’m already going to be late for my next class.
Joe’s going on about some girl he hooked up with after they played last weekend. He’s always going on about some girl, a different girl, every time I’m around him. I think he’s full of it. He acts like girls fall all over him because he’s the drummer.
Ross asked if I wanted to join him and the band on the quad while they talk music and watch girls wiggle their hips when they walk. I love to hear them talk about music, but I can’t concentrate on their dumb conversation right now. It’s cool out, and the crisp air floods my head with my time with Regan in the barn the night of Tobi’s party. Flirting and teasing with her is so much fun. Oh, but kissing her, kissing is so much better.
There’s such an undeniable connection between us. It’s like an invisible artery connecting her to somewhere deep inside me. At times, I feel so audacious when we’re close like that. It’s probably a good thing Haylee came searching for us in the barn. I could’ve stayed there—playing with her hair, my arms around her, keeping her warm, kissing her—all night long. Regan’s so soft, and she fits perfectly with me.
When she had her arms tucked under mine, I traced her outline. She used to wear her brother’s T-shirts and baggy shorts. The summer going into her freshman year, Tobi convinced her she doesn’t have to dress like a boy to be tough. Seriously, Tobi’s rough and tumble on the farm everyday, but she loves her frilly clothes when she’s not working. Regan can’t really hide her curvy body in clothes anymore and I like that. A lot. Even in her T-shirts and jeans her outline is appealing.
I almost blew it that night, though. Anyone related to the Fanigers must have something in their DNA that finds a way to screw with Regan’s life. What are the chances some guy from Chicago I’ve never talked to before find his way back to Regan like that? I didn’t tell her I went to the bar to watch Ross’s band because, I didn’t want her to think I’m working weekends so I can go out to the bars. We’re both still adjusting to us and to being apart. I should’ve told her. I should tell her everything—about having class with Johanna, but … I’m a coward.
Linc’s accusations and the stupid words from our parents really screwed my plans up. I haven’t been able to find a way to convince Mr. Stone he’s way off base without exposing Regan’s and my secret. If we can be patient, maybe this summer we can let them know. This isn’t how I wanted things to work out. I wanted to be that respectful
guy her dad’s hoping for—the guy who asks him permission to take her out, but he destroyed that plan by denying us the chance to even ask.
That day at Fox Creek, the day our relationship changed, she’d fallen asleep under the tree, our tree. As soon as I knew she was sleeping, I put my fishing gear up and sat beside her, watching her, playing with her hair, thinking about what I was going to say. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. How could I? She’s so amazing.
When I’m full of doubt and unsure of my future, unsure of everything … she’s unbridled the way she fights for me. Her confidence in me is addictive. And she really believes it, too; it’s not lip service. She thinks I’m confident and sure of myself … if ever I am, it’s only because of God and her. Regan thinks I can do anything I want to. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to be with the person who makes them feel that way? She’s the whole package.
I had to make her realize we’re more than friends. It had become too much for me to deny, and I just couldn't lie about it to myself or to her anymore. I know if we weren’t best friends, if we hadn’t spent so much time together as kids, there’s no way I’d be able to even talk to Regan. Her quietness, intelligence, the way she carries herself—it can be intimidating if you don’t know her like I do.
The day I realized I wouldn’t be around to prevent some punk from worming his way into her life was the day I freaked out. Cameron wanted to meet up at the diner before I had to be at the school for graduation. That’s really when I got my wake-up call, when it all started. His request triggered everything. He wanted to change the dynamics of the group. It took me all summer to figure things out, but our first kiss in the shed took my feelings for Regan to a whole new level. That hum in my chest still appears with every kiss we share. This excitement grows every time I see her, every time I hold her hand.
After I dropped her off from Tobi’s party—after our fight or whatever that was—I was a mess. As I ran down the path when I sneaked back over to her house, just the thought of seeing her again had me back on track. When I peeked through her window, all I wanted to do was crawl through, curl around her, and tell her I was sorry.