Has to Be Love

by Jolene Perry

  I slump. “I can’t do this.”

  Cecily snorts. “Yes you can, and you will. You two used to be friends, Clara. Maybe try to get some of that back.”

  “Elias won’t talk to me,” I protest.

  “Well …” She sighs. “I’m here. Let’s go.”

  I tentatively press on the throttle, and we drive into the parking lot.

  No Elias.

  Thank you.

  We step off the machine, and I push open the front door to see Elias standing behind his mom.

  Stomach. Gone.

  “Hey.” I wave as my smile trembles.

  Elias gives us each a brief nod before turning away and pushing through the doors into the warehouse.

  Cecily puts her hand on my back and shoves me forward.

  “Just really quick today.” Mrs. Motter smiles, but it’s a weird, flat, forced kind of smile.

  Right. I broke up with her son. Broke his heart. And it’s not like she doesn’t know.

  “Okay.” I walk around the counter on shaky legs and flop in the chair next to her.

  We stare at each other for a moment, but I don’t have words.

  “I’ll sort nails,” Cecily offers as she moves to that part of the store. I swear every one of us has sorted the bins with nails at some point growing up.

  “Just an accounting question.” Mrs. Motter taps her computer, and I stare for a moment, leaning in and squinting.

  “You just have a few things in the wrong column. Ten minutes. Tops.” And then I can leave.

  “Thank you,” she says quietly as she slides her chair back.

  I try to focus on the numbers and columns instead of the fact that she’s still silent. I move the numbers back over and scroll down to make sure nothing else is amiss.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out.

  There’s a text from Rhodes. I’d like to see you today if you can swing it.

  My head swivels both ways, like Elias will suddenly appear and see that Rhodes is writing me. And then my gaze falls on Cecily’s back. She’s the perfect cover to find a way to spend time with him.

  Yeah. I can swing that. At work now. Should be done in fifteen. Where do you want to meet?

  I hold my breath waiting for his response.

  You’re the expert.

  I’m the expert? Oh right. I live here. We’ve spent a lot of time in my barn, and we’ve hung at the fairground cemetery. School is out. Church is out. Our few restaurants are out because technically I’m still his student, and neither of us wants to deal with the backlash of us being seen together.

  I’ll pick you up and we can ride the wheeler. Is that okay?

  I set my phone in my lap and shuffle a few more numbers on the Motter computer.

  With you on the tiny seat of a four-wheeler? I’m in.

  Oh crap.

  Well. Actually … the idea that we’ll be stuck that close together might be fairly awesome. And my chest bunches up in guilt over sitting next to Elias’s mother while texting a guy I’m about to go see.

  See you in 30 min to an hour.

  And now I just need to focus and get these numbers in.

  “You’re seriously ditching me?” Cecily says as we pull up to her house.

  “It’s for a good cause?” I try a sweet smile.

  She folds her arms. “I’ve barely seen you!”

  “I’m sorry, but I really, really want to spend a few minutes with Rhodes.”

  “Fine.” Cecily frowns in a fake pout. “Have fun.”

  “I will.” I grin, sit back on the seat, and once again hit the gas. This time for Rhodes. Because with him there’s no pressure. No expectations. Just now.

  The swirling excitement whips into a near-frenzy as I cruise up the trail to Ms. Bellings’s house. I take a sharp left next to a creek that I know flows through her yard, which is better because being on the roads on my way to him might not be the best thing.

  I now get why people do things they’re not supposed to. My head is light and swimmy, and my stomach is twirling with anticipatory nerves. This is forbidden, but at the same time, we could totally be in the same college classes next year, so it’s fine.

  I’m meeting up with a guy who likes me for my talent. A guy who is older, goes to my dream school, and wants to kiss me even though my lips are scarred.

  Rhodes is jogging down the steps before I’ve even stopped in the yard and slides on behind me. The strong arms I spent so much time watching are now wrapped around my waist.

  “Okay, Alaska, take me into the wilderness.” His lips touch my neck, sliding a rush of tingles through my core.

  I open my mouth to say something but words don’t come. Instead I concentrate on the feel of his strong arms and how his chest occasionally bumps against my back and how his thighs rest over my thighs. We drive back toward the creek and about a mile up the trail where I know there’s a lookout. My face doesn’t matter. Elias doesn’t matter. School doesn’t matter. We matter.

  He stands up behind me as we pull to a stop. “Wow. You can see the canyon both ways from up here. The town …” He points. “The river … Wow …”

  I stand up in front of him and nearly reach back to grab his hand, but I’m not sure if I can just do that now or …“Glad you approve.”

  His arm slips around my side and across my front. “You could turn around.”

  I turn around, stumbling over the seat before I’m facing him, each of us still with a leg on each side of my four-wheeler.

  He kisses me once, sliding his lips across mine and leaving me aching for more. “Let’s sit.”

  Rhodes sits first, and there’s really nowhere for my legs to be until he grasps me under my knees, lifts my legs, and wraps them around his body. He holds my waist tightly, sliding us together. A wave of heat spirals through my body as his lips meet mine again.

  Arms hold me, a body is pressed against me, lips search for mine. I feel wanted. Sexy. Pretty. Desired.

  His hands slide over the back pockets of my jeans, and he chuckles into my mouth when his fingers slide over my notebook. “Can I see?”

  “Nope,” I tease as I nip at his lip.

  “Tease.” He nips me back.

  I run my tongue across his lower lip before leaning away from him. “Yep.”

  He slides his hands up my back, bringing me closer still. “Being alone with you is so, so perfect,” he mumbles into my neck before kissing me again.

  His warm hands slide under my shirt and up my back. Will he touch my bra? Want something else I’m not ready for? “Not too far,” I whisper as my body tenses.

  Rhodes grasps my sides, hands still under my shirt. “You feel amazing.”

  I rest my forehead against his, practically panting for air after so much kissing.

  “The Mormon thing, yeah? Why you don’t want to move fast?” he asks.

  The “Mormon thing” would probably keep me from wrapping my legs around him and wanting his hands on my skin, but I can’t give that up. Not now. I’m thinking too much again, which is exactly what I don’t want. Instead of answering, I tighten my legs and lick his bottom lip until his lips find mine and we once again find a beat to touching and kissing and … and everything that I wanted from him.

  33

  I’m looking over heads and trying to smile for graduation pictures while searching for Rhodes in the sea of blue robes and hats. Maybe he’s not here.

  Intoxicating. Burning. Desire. All words that used to make me cringe in their corniness now stir my chest into this fluttery feeling that’s thick with anticipation and want.

  Esther and Abby come by and give me hugs that feel more genuine than any words we’ve exchanged. “We would have talked to you more, but you’re so …”

  “Intimidating,” Abby finishes.

  I shake my head, totally baffled. “Me?”

  They both nod. “You always seem to know what you want, and you’re always so focused and driven.” Esther folds her arms. “So … um … good lu
ck in school and everything.”

  “Where you going?” Abby asks, but I’m not sure what to say.

  “University of Alaska this year and then … maybe New York.”

  Maybe.

  I sent in my deferment letter. This gives me a year of … a year of whatever I want. Visiting the plastic surgeon in Alaska. Going back to Seattle for my first surgery. Really, it just bought me time. I need time. And hopefully they’ll accept my deferment, and I can start next fall. Hopefully.

  I mumble, “Congratulations,” as they move away. How could I possibly be any kind of intimidating? How can I not just say yes or no about leaving for college? People do it every year. Lots of them. My plan just got shattered with Cecily going early and the plastic surgeon. I had to have some part of my plan intact.

  Elias and his parents stop next to Dad. I hold my breath. The boy whose ring I wore is shifting his weight and moving his hands in and out of his pockets while our parents nod, smile, chat. We haven’t given each other more than a glance of acknowledgment in the two weeks since we split, so I’m sure he hates this as much as I do. I think about all the love he’s given me that I’ve done a terrible job of returning. I step next to him and slide my arm through his before I lose my courage.

  “Congrats.” I give him a squeeze.

  He leans over like he’s going to kiss my head, but stops because we’re not like that anymore. I’m waiting for him to tell me how awkward and weird and horrible this is, but we both know it.

  “You too.” He gives me a quick one-armed hug before walking away.

  I watch him go. His walk is more familiar than maybe anyone else’s but Dad’s. My heart cracks, but I can’t be held to what Elias wants. I can only be held to what I want. I’m just not sure what that is yet. So, my revelation in New York about making decisions that only had to do with me was a good one, but I still have no idea what I want to do with myself.

  Cecily pushes her way through the crowd and grabs me in a tight hug.

  Dad snaps a few pictures before sliding his phone back into his shirt pocket. “What are your plans tonight?”

  “Hang with Cecily.” I shrug. Even though that’s just part of my plans.

  “No one else?”

  “Nope.” I’ve spent a lot of fake time with Cecily over the past week, which has been used to spend time with Rhodes—especially since Dad’s suddenly claiming to be too busy to have him over for dinner.

  I shrug. “In a graduating class of thirty, not many of whom I have a lot in common with …”

  “Okay.” Dad gives me another pat. “Be safe. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Of course.”

  It’s Dad’s turn to walk away but I slide my arm through Cecily’s, ready to plan my night.

  “Did you want to see me, or am I just your excuse to be out of the house?” Cecily’s eyebrows rise. “Yet again.”

  “Both?” I give her a hopeful smile.

  Cecily pulls me into a tight hug. “Be careful, Clara. I like Rhodes okay, but he’s no Elias.”

  I pull back. “Was it you or not you who asked me almost every time we talked why I was still with Elias?”

  She folds her arms and leans against her doorframe. “Only because you always seemed lukewarm. But he’s a lot safer, and you have this reckless look about you.”

  “What does that even mean?” I throw my hands in the air, immediately frustrated. “I’m still me. What do you think I could possibly do? You’re the one who said I should be out having fun.”

  “I don’t know, okay?” She tightens her arms. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

  I’m not sure what I’m after tonight. I just know I’m tired of being so careful all the time. That I’ve always done the right thing and the safe thing, and turning down Elias wasn’t safe. At all. It opened up anything. Everything. Tonight I get to be selfish.

  “You made it.” Rhodes smiles widely as I step into his aunt’s house. Soft guitar music’s playing and the lighting is dim. I’m wondering how much of it is just the atmosphere he likes and how much of it is atmosphere he created. For me. Or us. Or … I don’t know what.

  Wow. Me being here is really real.

  “Can I get you something?” he asks.

  The energy crackles and bounces between us, and I’m wondering how long I should wait before I touch him or move to feel his lips on mine or slide my arms around his waist.

  “I’m good.”

  “I was reading. Just sort of waiting.” He shrugs. “Hoping you’d make it by.”

  “I made it.”

  “I see.” He leans in so close that I think we might kiss, but pulls away and sits on the large sectional. The thing is so deep it’s almost a bed, and I’m a bit surprised that Ms. Bellings has such modern furniture in her house.

  “This guy’s lyrics are amazing.” He leans back.

  “Bobby Long, huh?” I ask. “Are you trying to make a move?”

  “Now that we’ve established … whatever this is between us.” His eyes don’t waver, and my nerves kick into overdrive as my throat does that really horrible swell-up thing that happens whenever I really need for it not to. “Yes. I’m trying to make a move.”

  Instead of waiting for him, I decide the best reaction is first action, whatever that means. Anyway, I move in first. I expect him to kiss me like he did in the barn—hungrily. Like he couldn’t get enough. But instead my lips barely touch his and the faint touch sparks between us.

  “There’s some pretty mean chemistry at work here,” he whispers.

  I feel his smile as he kisses me again.

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Somewhere between one and forty minutes (time sort of gets wonky when I’m kissing Rhodes), he’s on top of me and the couch is feeling a little like heaven.

  He’s turned on and I’m turned on, and I also understand that phrase a little better because it feels like with the smallest touch I could explode.

  His tongue traces over my lips before his kiss deepens again, and then he trails kisses down my neck. He tugs my collar to the side and kisses my collarbone, past my bra strap, and to my shoulder.

  No guy has ever touched me like he’s not afraid to. Elias would never have tugged at my clothes to feel more skin.

  “Let’s get you out of this.”

  I’m about to ask, “Out of what?” when his fingers slide up my sides and lift the shirt over my head.

  Oh. Wow. Okay. I’ve never been so … exposed.

  “You’re gorgeous.” His mouth is nowhere near mine now, and I’m not sure what to do. Do I touch his hair? His back? He kisses between my breasts and I can barely breathe, waiting to see what will happen next. How will I know what he thinks? If this is good or not good?

  His fingers follow the scar lines over my shoulder and down my back. His lips find the scars on my side, and normally I’m ticklish there, but everywhere his mouth touches me drives an intense need in my body to breaking point.

  He reaches around to my back and unclasps my bra, making me gasp.

  “This okay?” he asks as he slowly pulls it off.

  It doesn’t feel like much of a question, so I stay silent as he slides the straps down my arms, and now there’s a guy, a man, lying on top of me and I have no shirt on and no bra on, and this is feeling very real and maybe a little scary, and maybe like it would be better if I had been the one to push this instead of him.

  And then Rhodes sits up and slides his T-shirt off, revealing the shoulders, abs, and arms I’ve watched since he arrived.

  Emotions crash into the rhythm of want, intensifying all of the burning that makes me need to feel him.

  He lowers himself on top of me again, and in about three seconds the heat of him and the feel of his mouth on my mouth fuzzes out everything else. All of the undressing was maybe a fantastic idea. His fingers massage my sides, and I’m pressing my hips up toward his because I can’t imagine not feeling his hardness between my legs like in the loft of the barn,
and I think about how much better it will be now because his skin is against my skin.

  His fingers dance around the top of my jeans and I’m gasping for air as we kiss and I pull on him and my heart hammers and my body just wants, wants, wants.

  I don’t realize my pants are unbuttoned until his hand slides under the edge of my panties. He’s seriously moving his hand down …

  Oh.

  Wow.

  All I can think as his mouth moves over my chest and his tongue teases me and his fingers slide over my skin, on me, under my underwear, is that I get why people like sex. I get why people do this. Why they don’t mind being naked because it leads them to this, and I’m whimpering and trying not to, only I’m worried if I don’t whimper that I’ll moan or worse, and I can’t have that. It seems to be encouraging him because his movements are getting more frantic, which is making my body more frantic.

  This time I do make an embarrassing noise, which is followed by total … shock.

  And not the good kind. It’s a shaky, weak, pulsing rush of goose bumps and a fear I’ve never experienced.

  I don’t really even know Rhodes, and I’m half naked on a couch in a house I’ve never been in before—and I maybe shouldn’t be with him like this. As the pieces continue to crash down, he continues to tug down on my pants and to unbutton his pants, and for as much as I wanted more of Elias, I’m not ready. Not with Rhodes. Not right now.

  “Wait. Stop.” I’m out of breath, and I’m not sure he can hear me.

  This is so weird. Real but not real. Surreal. How did I get here? How did I end up in this weird place of nakedness with an almost-stranger?

  Okay. Not almost-stranger. But almost-stranger compared to most of the people I know. My heart pounds so hard that I swear it’s blurring my vision. How could I have let this happen? My decisions. My way. For me. That’s what I decided. But this …? I’m not sure how my decisions led me here, even though I was a part of all of them.

  “Rhodes.” I skitter away from him, my pants now below my hips, and frantically pull on them until I realize my shirt and bra are gone and I’m so exposed. So insanely, ridiculously exposed and I want it over, to be done, for me to be home and in my own bed and far from him and this and everything, and I can’t make it happen fast enough.