You might as well go to school close to me. That’s what she said at dinner when we were talking about me going to A&M Galveston, and of all the things that Catie Dixon is known for, it’s speaking her mind. It’s still not enough proof, not enough for me to make a move, not enough to tell her that I’ve missed her and I didn’t even realize it until these last few days.
That sounds like a total line, doesn’t it? That’s the last thing I want her to think—that I’m somehow playing her, because it’s been a while since I did anything with a girl. I mean, it has been a while, and honestly, she makes me want things. But with our immediate futures such as they are, if anything were to ever happen, it’d be a one-night situation. Two nights max. A fling. And I can’t do that. Not with her.
“So?” she breaks the silence, and I shake myself out of my head. Why do I keep getting trapped in there, stuck in this Catie Dixon quicksand that I can’t keep myself from stepping in?
“Yeah?” I make sure to keep my voice even and cool.
“Did you have fun?”
“Yeah. Did you?”
“Well, they’re definitely not serial killers,” she says. “They’re sweet.”
I laugh. “Yeah, they are.”
“Caleb?” she asks. “Do you want to do what he was talking about? That program?”
It strikes me that I have no reason to lie to her, and the fact that she already knows I’ve been talking to Professor Jackson makes lying about it seem even dumber. “It sounds interesting, yeah. But I’ve already made a commitment. I think I’m just getting cold feet, but I’ll get over it.” I clear my throat. “There’s still time for you, though, you know.”
“What?” She stops walking. “What are you talking about?”
I slow down and turn back to her. “Come on, Catie. You’re not going to get a degree in business. You want to be a reporter. You should do that.”
She huffs out a breath. “No. No, I can’t.”
“Why not? You totally should. You’d be perfect. You’re nosy, talk all the time, and never stop until you get an answer.” I smile, but I’m slightly worried by her scrunched-up face. “They’ll find someone else to take over the business.”
She starts walking again, this time at a faster pace, fast enough that I have to stretch my legs to keep up with her surprisingly long stride.
“Hey,” I reach out and grab her wrist to stop her. “Wait.”
She whips around to face me. “Someone else can take over? Really? Says the boy who gets out of all of it because you’re a natural-born athlete?”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“Yes, I know that my dream job is not running a flooring store.” Her eyes are almost shooting sparks as another flash of lightning illuminates the entire Gulf and the thunder rolls. “But some of us don’t have a choice.” She huffs. “Why are you even talking like this? And by the way, our parents don’t want someone else. They want family. They want me.”
She pulls out of my grasp and walks away again.
I hurry after her. “Slow down. Catie, I’m just saying—you’re just starting senior year; you have time. They’ll support you, whatever you to do. They just want you to be happy.”
She kicks the cool sand with a bare foot. “You don’t understand. I’ve got Gramps. I can’t leave him. And my parents—our parents—built this company for us. They don’t want us to struggle, and I’ve always said I’ll do it. How do I tell them, ‘Oh, never mind, love you all, but I’m going to college in Chicago to be a reporter?’”
Wow. “You say it just like that.”
She bites her bottom lip.
“Chicago?”
“No. Caleb. It doesn’t matter.” She turns to go again, but I hold onto her arm.
“Wait,” I say. “Tell me about it. Please.”
She shakes her head. “I said no.” Her brow furrows, and I can barely stand it. The houses behind us cast a light on her that makes her look like some sort of beautiful, glowing, otherworldly creature. The wind has kicked up, and it’s blowing her hair back in a way that makes me want to touch it. So I do it, without a second thought. I reach out, and I touch her hair. She looks down at where we’re connected, confused.
“What are you doing?”
I ignore the question, because honest to God, I do not have an answer for her. “If you could go anywhere to college, where would you?”
She deflates a little, then inhales and reinflates instantly. “Nowhere. It’s not going to happen so why bother dreaming about it?”
I take a step closer. There’s a hitch in her breath.
“Tell me.”
She blinks and backs away from me. She starts walking again but slower this time, dragging her feet in the sand, allowing me to catch up.
“Fine.” She throws up her hands. “Northwestern University. Heard of it?” One eyebrow quirks up in a way that is both cute and sexy and I want to kiss her.
Focus, Gray.
“Yeah. I’ve heard of it. Great lacrosse team.”
She exhales. “Yeah, well, they’ve got an amazing journalism program, too. So amazing I probably won’t even get in. And it’s near Chicago, which means I’ll probably die of hypothermia, although the campus looks pretty. Old buildings and lots of trees, and the admissions woman who came to school said there are a lot of scholarships. But it’s also a million dollars a year, so probably not nearly enough. So I let myself get excited, but there’s no way I can go…”
I stop walking again, but she forges ahead. Big, fat raindrops start to fall. “What are you doing? Come on, it’s raining,” she calls back over her shoulder.
“No!” I stand my ground, crossing my arms. “First tell me why you can’t go.”
She lifts one shoulder and glances up at the sky. “I just told you, Caleb! Plus Gramps. He’s sick, and Mom and Dad can’t take care of him alone.”
“Why?” The rain falls harder. “Can’t they get someone to come into the house?”
She shakes her head. “That’s expensive, and it wouldn’t be the same.”
“Catie,” I say. “If your grandpa knew that you weren’t gonna do what you want to do because of him, he’d lose it.”
She takes a few steps toward me. Its pouring now, and her hair and skin and dress are soaked. She closes the distance between us. “It doesn’t matter. He’s never going to know. He needs me. Mom and Dad need me.”
The rain is ridiculous, but I don’t move.
“And you’re one to talk,” she says. “It doesn’t exactly sound like being a lacrosse-playing, business-major Olympic hopeful is your dream. That professor guy really likes you, and you should see how excited you got when he was talking about all that stuff. Why don’t you take your own advice?”
My heart hitches in my chest.
“I think you’re being stupid,” I say.
It’s a straight-up deluge now.
“Well, I think you’re stupid,” she says. “If you don’t want to be a lacrosse player, you should not be one, Caleb! It’s pretty simple. And also, I’m getting soaked.” She turns her back to me and walks fast to the steps that lead up to our neighborhood. I jog to catch her. As she starts to climb, I reach for her hand, take it firmly in mine, and stop her forward motion. She’s two steps up and spins around. I’m still on the sand, which means we’re face-to-face. Rain is falling hard on us. This might be the biggest mistake of my life, but I don’t care.
It’s so dark right here that I can barely see her features, but I see enough. Her lips are parted just a little—in surprise? In anticipation? I have no clue. I touch her face. My fingers lace through her wet hair. I lean forward and slowly move closer, pulling her to meet me.
She lays her free hand on my forearm, grasping it gently. I take the cookies and the sandals from her and put them down on a step.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hey,” she answers.
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know there’s no going back, because our lips touch, and if
it’s right or wrong or a huge mistake, I don’t know. Right now this is the only thing that I truly know I want. I kiss her deeper as she leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck. Blood rushes through me like a storm surge, strong and powerful and maybe even a little destructive.
Maybe, but I don’t know, and I don’t care. I move up a step, pull her closer to me, close as I can, as close as she’s willing to come.
Chapter Sixteen
Catie
We’re soaking wet and long rolls of thunder rumble around us, but I don’t care. I could die out here on this beach, and I’d die happy.
He’s kissing me. I’m kissing him. We’re kissing. His kiss is different than any boy that’s come before him. He knows how to move his mouth and lips and tongue really, really well.
Lightning strikes close, and he pulls away. “We should go in.” His voice is as low as the thunder that follows.
“Go in,” I repeat from my sensory overload–induced fog. And do what? I don’t know what he’s thinking comes next, but I know I want more. I want all. All of Caleb. Now. He leads the way, holding my hand and pulling me along. I’m in a daze, a drunken stupor, even though I only had sweet tea tonight. I have kissed Caleb Gray, and that kiss has gone straight to my head.
We climb the steps up to the house, and he’s still holding my hand. When he unlocks the door, Mo is there, barking like crazy. We both know what that means—Mo does not like thunderstorms, and he’s probably been here freaking out.
“Hey, dude, I’m sorry.” Caleb sits on the floor and pulls the dog into his lap and circles him with his arms. “It’s okay, boy.” I sit down with them and try to help. Mo whines a little and calms, until another bolt strikes and he’s barking again. I can’t help but feel a little guilty, because I’m sitting here hoping that the storm moves on already so Mo relaxes and we can get back to the kissing.
Yes, that makes me a terrible person, but we had some serious momentum going. What if Caleb changes his mind—what if all that energy fizzles out and he starts to regret what we just did?
Like he’s reading my mind, he reaches out and touches my cheek. “Hey,” he says and smiles that smile—the one that gets him anything he wants. I would have denied it twenty-four hours ago, but doesn’t he know that he doesn’t have to use it on me?
“You’re dripping,” he says, wiping water off of my chin.
“You, too.”
He nods toward Mo, who is still in his lap. “You okay, boy? I think he’s okay.” Caleb gives him another belly scratch. “You’re okay.” Mo steps away, and I pray that the thunder is over.
“Let’s go change,” Caleb says.
He stands up and walks ahead of me through the hall. Mo stays close to him, and so do I. Caleb’s hair is sticking out in all different directions, and his shoulder muscles are defined through his wet shirt. How is it possible that I shiver when there are parts of me that are burning up right now? He stops at his door. I can’t wait another second. I grab the hem of his shirt, and he turns around. I reach up and take him by the collar, pulling his face down to mine. His kiss is so good, somehow sweet and rough and tender and hot, all at once. I can barely take it, so that’s why I decide to push him through the open door of the bedroom and tell myself to stop thinking. I remind myself that I don’t always have to know how everything is going to work out, although I know that this boy I’m kissing, I want things to work out with him.
Stop it, Catie.
Focus on the now. What he’s doing to me right now—he seems so hungry, and I’m meeting the kiss with the same intensity.
It’s not sexy to stop and consider the consequences. Just a baby—I don’t want to have a baby—so I do think about protection. I hope he has some, because I don’t. I came here this weekend with my friends only to figure things out, not for anything casual.
He steps backward and trips over Mo, who is staring at us like we’re out of our minds. I push my hands up under Caleb’s shirt, urging him to take it off. We get to the edge of the bed, and he sits down and pulls the shirt over his head as I work the side zipper on my sundress and let it slip down around my feet. This is new for me—the whole seduction thing.
Stop thinking, Catherine.
He takes a second to look at me, like he’s drinking me in. His eyes on my body don’t embarrass me. On the contrary. The nerve endings on my skin are alive—little filaments that spark at his touch. I know he can see it all. My bra is wet and see-through. I’m wearing a thong—barely there. He smiles at me like I’m a work of art, and the voltage in my body is amped up. I cup his cheeks in my hands, and I see his smile fade. This scares me, and the last thing I want right now is to be scared, so I take a chance. I climb onto him, straddling him on the edge of the mattress. His arms wrap around my waist. I can feel how much he wants this, too. This is happening.
But then he lifts me slightly off his lap and hoists me backward onto the bed. It’s easy for him. I’m lying crossways, tugging at his arms, waiting for him to cover me with his body. Instead, he lies down beside me, up on his elbow, his eyes boring into mine. He’s not smiling anymore.
“Catie?” he says, his voice almost a deep growl.
I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my life as I want him right now. “Talking? You hate talking.”
He inhales. “You are so beautiful.”
I pull away from him and frown, even though I’m thrilled. Boys have told me that I’m beautiful before, but this is different.
His hand cups my cheek. “All right. Now why do you look mad?”
“Hm.” I screw up my mouth. “You didn’t used to think that.”
An eyebrow lifts. “You’d be surprised how long I have thought that.” He turns up his mouth at one corner. “But by the time I noticed, you were otherwise occupied.” His hand hovers over my skin, the electric charges spark between it and his fingers.
“Is that why you ignored me for so long?”
He shrugs and smiles. “Seemed easier that way.”
I’m mad with desire. “I wish you hadn’t.” I reach up around his neck and pull him down to kiss me again.
As his lips touch mine, I think of Darren McKee, who I dated for the first half of last year. I lost my virginity to him, in his car. Everything we did was in his car—and very uncomfortable.
I told myself the next time it would be better, with someone who really cared about me. I’m thinking maybe this qualifies.
Caleb kisses me again, and his hand lands on my belly, completing the electric arc. His fingers move, and I’m almost bursting out of my skin with all these sizzling filaments alive inside of me.
Mo barks from the floor, and barks again.
Caleb’s fingers reach the edge of my bra. Mo barks again. Caleb stops. He moves his hand off of me.
Another bark. Please, shut up, Mo.
Then Caleb slowly pulls back. I open my eyes, wide. “What’s wrong?”
He stares down at me with the most intense gaze. “I don’t think I can.”
I try to jump-start my stalled brain. “You what?” I ask, genuinely confused. My fluttering heart skips a few times. “Caleb? It’s okay. You can.”
I try to pull him down again, but he shakes his head and then sits up straight, leaving me lying beside him, my body suddenly covered in goose bumps.
“No, I can’t. I told your mom I’d watch out for you.”
A wave of anxiety is swelling in the distance. I swallow hard as my brain comes back to life and starts to make sense of what’s happening here. “Caleb, I don’t need watching. Trust me.”
He huffs out a long breath and averts his eyes. “I know that. But, still. I can’t do this.”
When he says it, the wave crashes, and I’m thrown back to memories of him walking away from me, ignoring me, treating me like I was nothing but a nuisance.
“You just said I was beautiful.”
“You are.”
“Oh my God,” I say with a bite. I sit up stick straight. “I should have known.”
“Now wait,” he says. His eyes skim my body, and I see him wince. I swear it’s like the sight of me is all of a sudden painful to him.
“No,” I say. “I’m going.”
“Why? Catie. Don’t go. I’m gonna say something, and I need you to listen to me.” He reaches behind him for the orange Longhorn blanket folded at the end of the bed and covers me with it. “Can you please—?” He begs. “Listen.”
“No.” I push the blanket off of me. “I’m not embarrassed.” I’m so not embarrassed that I jump off the bed and stand in front of him in my underwear. No, not embarrassed, but suddenly freezing in my damp underclothes and the blasting AC. I sort of wish I had that blanket, but I have a point to make.
“Listen to me, Catie.”
“No, you listen. You haven’t changed a bit, Caleb, and I should have seen it coming. You go out of your way to be polite and make people feel special, but for whatever reason, you can’t do that for me.” I bend down to pick up my dress and remove any evidence of me ever being in here. “Never mind,” I say. “I’ve got enough problems; the last thing I need is another one.”
And isn’t that the truth? My head was messed up before, and now this rejection feels like a nuclear bomb just dropped. How stupid am I?
As I turn to leave, aware of my frozen butt hanging out in the dumb thong, he laughs, that low, slow, cowboy laugh that gets him all the ladies. Not this one. Not this lady!
“Now you’re laughing at me? Great.” I glare at him over my shoulder. “Just like always.”
“No!” He stands and walks to me, blanket in his hands, still chuckling, like this is all hilarious, when it is most definitely not. “All right, now wait, Catie. Stop right there.”
I cross my arms.
“I am not laughing at you. Come on. Stop.” He opens the blanket and wraps it around my shoulders. “But seriously, if you don’t cover up right now, I’m gonna have to leave the room.” He pulls it around me. “Come on. Sit down, all right?”
Stuck With You (First Kiss Hypothesis) Page 13