But I push these fears down because scarier is the idea of saying no and missing this chance I desperately want to see him.
“Okay,” I tell him. “We can still go together.”
“Okay?” I hear the excitement and relief in his voice, and that makes me smile.
“Yes, of course okay. I really want to see you again.”
“All right! Well, I can get there the day of the concert. I can stay with Sam and extend the visit maybe.”
“Maybe,” I say, fear and hope churning through me in equal parts.
We don’t talk for much longer, both of us probably deciding it’s better not to risk starting an argument about the past and messing everything up again. So, I offer him detailed directions to the house I’m living in, tell him I’m looking forward to it, and then finish the very mundane task of folding my laundry with a joy in my heart I’d not felt when I started.
TYLER
Second chances can turn out good or bad.
As I drive up the interstate toward Seattle, I consider I’d been given a second chance after Pepper attacked me. She’d knocked me unconscious and had torn enough into my flesh and muscle that I might have bled to death had the kids in the neighborhood not screamed at the top of their lungs and then hauled ass to my house for help. There were times I didn’t want that second chance, times when the skin grafts were too painful or the degradation of being made fun of too hurtful. But in the end, I was grateful for my life, especially now when I could experience how it felt to have a lot of that pain peeled away.
I don’t consider Laney and I ever really having had a second chance at anything. I’m not sure what I was needing from her, maybe to feel like someone who rejected me could want me again or maybe just not wanting our relationship to have ended so badly. But whatever it was, it hadn’t been what I needed—it wasn’t important to me in the end. The only second chance I want now is with Claire and hope with all my heart that she’ll give it to me.
The directions she provided are spot on, the big white house she’d told me she’s living in just ahead and impossible to miss. What is also impossible to miss is Claire. Seeing that beautiful face of hers is a little awe inspiring, especially since I’d had to get used to seeing her only in my dreams. I can’t wait to get close enough to look into her blue eyes, but for now I take in the rest of her, her long legs shown off by her short dress and boots, a light jacket over her shoulders, the beautiful length of her neck visible with her long hair pulled up into a ponytail.
She is gorgeous, a true sight for sore eyes.
She doesn’t appear to see me yet, and so I pull over, park across the street and steel my nerves while I attempt to quiet the jumping rhythm of my heart. I’ve pictured this day so many times, but now that it’s finally here, I feel the pressure of everything that’s at stake.
I grab the bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat that I’d pulled over and bought just outside of Tacoma. Holding them, I catch myself in the reflection of my rear view mirror, smooth my hair and hope she doesn’t think I’m too freckled from being in the sun all summer, hoping she’ll see something in me that she likes, hoping this is the start of our second chance.
But when I get out of my Jeep and start to cross the street, Claire isn’t alone. There’s a tall guy suddenly next to her, a stranger I guess, except that strangers don’t usually put their hand on the small of a woman’s back and get away with it like this guy is.
“Hey,” I say, striding up, my nervousness being replaced by a swell of anger and jealousy.
He half turns, slightly startled, then gives me a look like he’s wondering who the fuck I think I am.
Claire steps around him, and we lock eyes, and I’m so afraid this guy is going to get in our way when all I want to do is pull her close to me.
“Tyler… hi…” she says, walking up to me and offering what feels like a hesitant hug. “How was your trip?”
“Uh… okay,” I say, not able to enjoy this moment with her until I’m clear on what’s going on here.
“Will,” she says to him. “This is Tyler… Tyler… Will.”
Will appraises me for another few seconds before extending his hand to me. “You’re the one taking her to see Bastille?”
“That’s me,” I say, making sure to shake back with a firm hand.
“Anyway,” she says, her eyes darting from me to him. “I’m going to head out with Tyler now, so I’ll see you around, okay?”
“I suppose,” Will says before nodding at me, turning on his heel and walking away from us.
“Shall we?” Claire asks, not exactly looking guilty, just nervous.
“Yeah, okay.” The guy has definitely put me off, and I’m still holding the flowers after I’ve opened the passenger door and gotten Claire in. She doesn’t even seem to notice.
She’s looking straight ahead when I climb in next to her. Her staring out my windshield and not saying anything isn’t exactly how I pictured this going.
“These are for you,” I say, finally handing the flowers over that are bent now, probably gripped a little too hard by me in response to Will. I knew guys would be all over a girl as gorgeous as she is, but seeing it right in front of me is pretty tough.
“Oh, yes. They’re beautiful.” She barely looks at me as she accepts them. “You didn’t have to, though.”
“I wanted to.” More than wanted to. “Who was that guy?” I ask, not wanting to start a fight but knowing I’ll just burn up inside if I don’t get some clarity.
“Just a friend. We were kind of barely dating, but not anymore.”
“Did you sleep with him?” I spit it out without a second’s thought, and I regret it just as quick.
She lets out an annoyed breath. “No. I did not sleep with him, Tyler. As if it’s any of your business. You want me to ask you how many girls you’ve slept with since we broke up?”
“None.” It’s easy to say. I’d met girls over the summer, been propositioned by more than one, but the only girl I wanted was Claire, and I’m still holding out for that.
She lets out another sound, incredulous perhaps. “Are we going to sit here and argue about this or are we going to the concert?”
“We’re going to the concert,” I say, starting up the Jeep. “But it’s early still. Should we get something to eat?”
“Sure. I’ll tell you where to go.”
At that, I ease, thankful to have my navigator back at my side, even if she’s a little mad at me.
“Do you want to come up?” The sounds of the concert are still echoing through my head, even after we’d stopped for more food afterward and are now back in front of her house, me walking her to the front door.
“You want me to come up?” I ask, needing to be sure I heard her correctly.
“Only if you want,” she says, touching her hand to my bicep.
She’d touched me at the concert, innocently enough. We’d been having fun and laughing, and she’d been singing to the music, and I’d pretty much just watched her. But here, just the two of us in front of the house she shares, her touch to my upper arm undoes me in a way that I’ve been trying to protect myself from, not wanting to feel too much only for her to reject me.
“I definitely want to,” I say.
The house is big, the wide stairs creaky, sounds of muffled music and voices coming through the walls of the many rooms the house has been cut up into and rented out to college students like Claire.
She takes my hand halfway up the stairs and leads me to the very end of a long hallway, pulling a set of keys out of her purse and opening the door and then turning a lamp on at her bedside.
“I have my own bathroom at least,” she says, pointing to a narrow door just off the room that doubles as a bedroom and living room. “Not everyone does. Mom helps me out a little, and I’ve got a part-time job. Never thought I’d consider myself lucky just to have my own bathroom.”
“Hey, it’s all pretty much communal for me,” I say, looking around the spa
ce with posters on the wall and a made bed. Nothing fancy, but good for a college girl. “We get pretty remote, so there’s these trailers we can camp out in, but if there’s a town close by, we might be lucky and get a room and a hot shower at a motel, but we usually have to share those, the rooms, not the showers… ”
She laughs, but with obvious reserve. “Is that what you really want to do?” she asks, taking off her light jacket and stretching her arm out like she wants to take mine.
“For now, it’s good. Keeps my mind occupied. I’m obviously deferring college this year, and Dad’s proud of me at least.” I hand her my jacket, and she puts it along with hers over the back of a small chair.
“He should be proud regardless,” she says, turning to a cupboard above a small counter. She takes out a glass, fills it with water and then carefully places the flowers I’d gotten her earlier in it. “Do you want some tea or something?” she asks, setting the glass of flowers to the side, her body still turned away from me. “I only have the hot plate… that’s all they allow us in here, and no cooking… just coffee or tea or instant soup.”
“I’m good,” I say, taking a step toward her. “All I really want is you.”
“Tyler—”
With her back to me, I wrap my fingers through her hair and then bring my hands down and grip her shoulders.
“Tyler…” This time she says it with soft surrender, turning her head to the side, her profile more beautiful now than I’d remembered it.
Like a man possessed, I pop open the button of my jeans and unzip, so damn hard in such a short time, enough that I’m worried I might release myself all over Claire’s dress without her even knowing what the hell just happened. Without the finesse I’d hoped to have, I lift the hem of her dress, pulling it up while pulling her panties down.
“Is this okay?” I whisper into her ear, asking again after only getting a nod.
“Yes… it’s okay,” she says, pulling at her own clothes now and then reaching around and tugging at the band of my boxers. “I want this,” she says, a little breathless.
It’s what I’ve wanted for months, and as she tips her ass slightly up toward me, I pull my hardness out of my boxers, step forward and guide it up and into her warmth from behind.
“Ohhh… god,” I groan, wrapping my hands around her stomach and holding her up against me.
Her heartbeat reverberates through my body, or maybe it’s just mine echoing off of her. I lean in and kiss her beautiful neck, having imagined just being happy with a kiss, but now that I’m inside of her, drunk on her, I don’t want to make any move that could ruin the moment for us.
With her hand reaching around, her fingers dragging through my short hair, I’m completely hers. I begin thrusting into her when she asks me to, and I keep one hand held tight around her stomach, the other underneath her thigh, raising her leg up so that I can push myself deeper into her.
I lose myself all over again in Claire, picture the first time I’d seen her over a year ago at school, that girl I’d deemed too perfect and beautiful to be a student, figured she had to be a teacher, the kind of hot young one that could inspire songs. At first, I’d resisted loving her out of fear, but here I am, still feeling the same way, still lighting at her touch.
“I love you,” I tell her, my lips burrowed up against her neck, my stiffness rooted deep inside of her. My hands, calloused over a summer of wielding axes, must feel rough to her soft skin, but I touch her nonetheless.
Her response is a moan of pleasure, and I continue on, thrusting inside of her, keeping my lips on her skin, my hands on her curves. I don’t even let go after she’s shaken through her orgasm or after I’ve released my own built up pressure, groaning into her and nearly blacking out from the pleasure.
Breathless, I lower her lifted leg to the ground, gently pull out of her and turn her to me, wanting to see her eyes, wanting to kiss her lips.
“Can I stay?” I ask, not wanting to leave her, hoping she wouldn’t make me go after what we’d just done.
She hesitates, kissing me instead, eventually pulling away and burying her face in my chest.
Holding the back of her head, I give her time, not wanting to pressure her, just grateful to have her next to me.
“You can stay if you want,” she finally says, lifting her head. “I just need to freshen up in the bathroom, okay?”
“Of course, whatever you need.”
While she’s in the small bathroom, running water, maybe taking a quick shower, I take a seat on her bed, finally removing the heavy boots I’d worn, my work boots that I’d cleaned and polished up for her. They’d gotten so comfortable over the summer and early fall that I hated not to wear them.
I unbutton my shirt and pull it off next, then stand up and take my jeans off, folding my clothes in a nice heap, setting them on my boots and setting my phone on top of those.
I sit there, basically naked, and wait for the girl that I love, the girl that I’d just been with in the most intense way you can be with someone. When she opens the door, her hair is still up in that ponytail, a light tank over her chest, and panties that look like they have strawberries or cherries printed on them.
And then there’s the necklace that hangs in plain sight, just over the soft curves of her chest, the caduceus I’d given her when she got her acceptance letter to UW. I’d seen the chain when I’d kissed her neck, but I hadn’t wanted to get my hopes up that the part unseen was the caduceus.
“You can clean up if you need to,” she tells me, pulling back the comforter so that I’m forced to stand.
“Sure,” I say, though I’m anxious just to get into bed with her, even more so after seeing the necklace, something that still ties she and I together.
“There’s mouthwash and an extra toothbrush if you need it,” she says once I’m up and walking toward the small bathroom. “Not that you’d need it,” she adds, looking down at the hardwood floor. “Sorry.”
“No, I probably do,” I say with a forced laugh, going into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.
I take a few deep breaths, not able to shake a sense that I’m not completely welcome here, that Claire hadn’t told me she loved me when I’d said those words to her, but then there’s the necklace. If not for seeing that, I might be considering just cleaning up and going, not wanting to push myself on her, not sure if her having sex with me means she wants the same things I do.
After a quick shower, I dry off and walk back into her room with nothing but a towel covering me, deciding the only way to find out what Claire is actually feeling is just to come out and ask her.
“I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me here,” I tell her, my heart thumping as I do, afraid she’ll tell me I’m right, that she’d rather I leave.
She’s sitting up in her bed, the covers pushed back. “Is something wrong?” she asks, like she can’t fathom I’d feel unwelcome here.
Perhaps I hadn’t read her right.
“I just… can I sit?”
“Of course you can. What is it?”
I shake my head and sit on the bed, my feet on the ground while hers are underneath the comforter. I turn to look at her. “I want to be here, but you don’t seem all that enthused. I told you I loved you, and you… well—”
“I do love you,” she says, scooting forward and putting her hand on my shoulder.
When she says that, the tension that had already started to build up again in my body eases, and I find myself relaxing.
“I’ve never stopped loving you,” she continues, “not even when I was hurt and angry at you, but I have to safeguard my heart too. So, maybe if I’m being kind of standoffish… that’s why.” She touches the caduceus, and I know then it means something to her, that I still mean something to her.
I climb up next to her in her bed and wrap her up close to me. “You’re wearing the necklace.”
She smiles. “I wear it often. It makes me feel closer to you.”
“Really?”
That allows me more strength than I’d had before to soldier on. “I’m willing to give you whatever time you need. Maybe I could move in with Sam and get a job here.”
She doesn’t say anything at first, even her breathing hesitant.
“You don’t like that idea?”
“Tyler…” She rests her palm on my bare stomach. “You can’t just stop what you’re doing. Don’t you have like a contract or something?”
“Yeah, but I could maybe get out of it.”
She shakes her head. “If this is ever going to work, it can’t be about either of us turning our backs on our own lives. I can’t ask you to move up here and then feel like I’ve messed up your life if we don’t work out.”
“But we will work out,” I tell her as sure as I can.
“I think it’s better if we talk about it in the morning, when emotions aren’t clouding our judgment, okay?”
I don’t want to do that. I want to get it all out now. I’d spent the entire summer waiting for a conversation and a chance like this one, and my judgment sure as hell doesn’t feel clouded, not when it comes to her. But I have to be patient. Mom said I had to give her time if that’s what she asks for.
“Sure, we’ll talk in the morning,” I relent.
She smiles at me assuredly and then turns out the lamp on her side table. Her bed is small, but that’s fine. It means that I have to hold her body right against me, my hands wrapped around her stomach, her hands over mine. There are things that still need to be said, still so many thoughts weighing heavy on my mind, but being close to Claire quiets them. For now, I’m grateful for this and know I’ll go to sleep happier than I’ve been in a very long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CLAIRE
Between the Girls (The Basin Lake Series Book 3) Page 32