by Monica Cole
While he’s out of sight, I climb down the rock and rush to grab my shorts. I’m zipping them up when he comes strolling around the rocks, smiling coyly.
“Wipe that smile off your face or I’ll do it myself.” I warn, stalking across the sand to retrieve my flip flops. I shove them on my feet then turn to see him watching me, arms folded across his chest.
“You have to admit, that was pretty funny.”
I narrow my eyes. “No. It wasn’t. You know I’m terrified of snakes.”
He drops his arms and comes to stand in front of me. He lifts his hand and brushes away a piece of hair stuck to my cheek, leaving me to wonder how a simple touch can feel so overpowering. “I was actually referring to you on top of that rock in your underwear,” he replies, the tips of his fingers grazing my jaw. Our eyes meet and he quickly withdraws his hand, hooking it behind his neck as he takes a step back.
Pulling my hair over my shoulder, I shoot him a threatening look. “Just so you know, if you ever mention this to anyone, I will kill you.”
He crosses his heart. “You have my word.”
We walk back to the cove to find the party still in full swing. Canyon grabs me a beer while I huddle close to the fire. Whitney is nowhere in sight so I pull out my phone to text her. There’s already a message from her lit up across the screen.
Whitney: Left with Clark. Hope you don’t mind. I talked to Canyon and he offered to give you a ride home. Have fun. ;)
I’m scowling at my phone when Canyon returns.
“Guess you found out I’m driving you home.” He sits down beside me, opens a beer and passes it my way.
I take a long drink, drawing patterns in the dirt with my toe. “It’s fine. But if I knew she was going to take off with Clark Benson tonight I would have fought harder to stay in bed.”
Canyon polishes off his water and tosses the bottle on the ground, stretching his legs out in front of him. He leans back on his hands, our shoulders brushing, our hands resting close together. When I glance over, he’s staring at the sky. It’s too cloudy, so the stars aren’t very visible, but the moon is swollen and bright, casting a white glow across the cove.
“I’ve missed it out here,” I muse, mostly to myself. It’s the one place you can come and actually see the stars, and I’ve always loved marveling at them. I figured that out the night I was on the cliff, staring out into the starry oblivion, wondering if I’d end up there when it was all said and done.
“Me too,” Canyon agrees. He drops his head back and it’s all I can do not to reach out and trace the sharp line of his jaw. The curve of his lips. It’s scary how much I still feel for him. That after two years he’s still wedged this deep in my heart. Just when I thought I’d removed him, I find out there’s shard after shard needing to be picked out.
“How long has it been since you’ve been out here?” I ask curiously.
He lifts his head and rubs his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Two years.”
My stomach coils. Two years. That means he hasn’t been out here since I left. “Oh.” It’s all I can manage. I’m not sure what to say because what I really want to know is why.
Instead I ask, “So what brings you here tonight?”
He shifts, and our hands brush, creating tiny sparks along my skin. We both look down, but neither of us moves, and I’m praying he’s the one to pull away first because I’m not sure if I can. Thankfully, he does. But not before skimming his fingers along mine, as if memorizing each one.
“I’d tell you, but you’d just get angry.”
I draw my legs to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees. “Someone sounds scared.”
“Yea, I’m scared. You might be cute as hell when you’re mad, but you’re also terrifying.”
I don’t know whether to smile or blush at his comment, so I shake my head to hide both reactions. “Just tell me.”
“Whitney texted and told me about the party,” he caves. “She said you were coming and that I should stop by.” He pauses to look at me, his brown hair swept to the side in the breeze. “I think she just wanted me here, so she could run off with Clark.”
I roll my eyes because that’s probably the truth. “Well, sorry you got volunteered for babysitting duty,” I say somewhat irritated. Not at Canyon, but my best friend who went through all the trouble of dragging me to a party just to ditch me. It makes me wonder what she’s up to with Clark Benson or with having Canyon show up when she knows how things are between us.
“It’s not a chore, if that’s what you mean. It was either this or sit in front of my laptop all night editing pictures. This definitely beats the hell out of that.”
Somehow I doubt it, but I don’t voice my thoughts. Maybe I’m the only one who’s bothered by how much time we’ve been spending together, or that I keep catching myself enjoying it way more than I should. Ten minutes and zero conversation later, Canyon stands up.
“Come on,” he says, offering me his hand. “I’ll take you home.”
Even though I’m not thrilled for him to drive me home, I don’t argue. I’ve already spent the last hour with him. What’s another twenty minutes?
When I finally climb into his truck, it’s like opening a time capsule. I swear it’s filled with the same crap: cd cases, empty McDonald’s cups, and a candy skull bobble head jiggling on the dashboard. The only difference is the absent smell of smoke. It smells abnormally clean. Like lemons.
“You’re truck smells weird,” I announce, clicking my seat belt into place.
Looking out the rearview window, he places his hand on the back of my seat and reverses onto the road. “I quit smoking,” he says. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him smoke once since I’ve been back.
The windows roll down as we pull off a dirt road and onto the highway. One of my and Canyon’s favorite bands, A Day to Remember, is playing through the speakers, and it’s so eerily familiar, I could almost swear we stepped back into the past.
I’m about to ask him why he gave up smoking when he says, “Parker made me quit.”
My eyebrows furrow, but he continues before I can ask why.
“It was right after I offered him a job at the studio. He told me he’d take it, but I had to promise to quit smoking.”
There’s humor in his voice which makes me smile. “That’s Parker for you. Manipulating a situation to benefit someone else.” I place my feet on the dashboard, something that used to drive Canyon nuts. I see his eyes cut in my direction, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I’m glad you quit, but I think a part of me will miss it.” I say thoughtfully, but wish I would have kept it to myself because now he’s looking at me. Curious.
“Why is that?”
I swallow hard, eyes glued to my knees. “I don’t know.”
Canyon stares out the windshield for a long minute before turning to me. “You know you can still tell me anything. No bullshit, remember?”
My heart throbs. Like I could forget.
I sigh. “I used to be grossed out by people who smoked. But then I saw you do it. And it was like some exotic art form. You have a way of doing that. Like with your photography. Taking something so simple and making it beautiful.”
Before he can see my face, I avert my eyes to the window, hating myself for this moment of weakness. Of honesty. But that’s the problem. It’s so easy to be honest with him. So easy to want to.
“How come you never told me that?”
I turn my head. He’s watching the road, face impassive and I’m almost relieved by it.
“I don’t know,” I say, toying with a string on my pants, “you never asked me.”
He smooths his hands over the wheel, tapping his thumbs. “Remind me to never not ask you anything again.”
We drive the rest of the way in silence and by the time we get to the house, I’m anxious to get inside.
Canyon comes around the front and walks me to me door. Just like he used to.
; “Thanks for the ride,” I tell him. I try the door, but it’s locked, so I start patting around my pockets for my keys when I realize they’re still in my purse. My purse that is still in Whitney’s car.
“Shit,” I mutter, turning to face Canyon, “I don’t have my keys.”
He lets out a mock sigh as he reaches into his back pocket. “Lucky for you, your mom gave me a spare.”
He waves it in front of my face.
I cross my arms, unimpressed.
He unlocks the door, letting it swing open. It's pitch black, so I step inside and flip on one of the table lamps.
“Thanks for driving me home,” I say, leaning my shoulder against the doorway.
“Thanks for letting me. I was a little worried you might refuse the ride.”
“I’ll be sure not to disappoint you next time.”
The corner of his mouth curves up so perfect it makes me dizzy. “I guess some things never change.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning you still have a smart mouth.” He leans the slightest bit closer. So slowly, that if I weren’t so aware of him all the time, I probably wouldn’t notice. But I do. I can feel the heat spilling off his body, and he smells like the lake. All those things stir up something inside me until I’m swept up in a whirlwind of everything Canyon.
“You used to like my smart mouth,” I say before I can stop the words from spewing out.
His lips twitch.
“True,” he agrees, taking another step forward, “but that’s not the only thing I liked about it.” He reaches up and even though I’d be better off slamming the door in his face, I don’t. I stay, gripping the doorframe so tightly my hand is going numb. His thumb brushes against my lip, rough against my soft. And then just as soon as it’s there, it’s gone.
He drops his arm to his side and steps back. “I better get going. Still got work to do at home.”
“Okay. Thanks for driving me.”
He smiles, shoving his hands in his front pockets. “Thanks for telling me thanks for the third time.”
Oh.
“I’m just messing, Elle. You’re welcome.”
I look up, and he’s already walking backwards through the yard. “Goodnight,” he calls as he rounds the front of the truck.
I wave as he drives off, and then shut the door behind me.
Chapter Ten
Past
October 24, 2012
Parker bailed.
Okay. He didn’t actually bail but he might as well have. Canyon, Parker, and I have had this planned for a week. Go to Alden Dairy Bar for dinner and see the new horror movie that just released. Then last night Parker started feeling bad and by the time this morning rolled around, he had a full blown cold. I feel sorry for him. From the way he looked, I can tell he feels terrible. But I also hate that he isn’t here because now this dinner and a movie thing feels a lot more like a date than two friends hanging out. Dinner with Canyon isn’t the problem. We go out to eat all the time. What we never do is go to the movies. I’ve avoided it like the plague because the theater is where horny teenagers go to grope each other and make out and that’s the last thing I want. To sit alone with Canyon in a dark theater while everyone around us sucks face.
Yet that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Right now I’m sitting with Canyon at the back of the theater, trying to convince myself that this isn’t a date while the couple in front of us are shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. Maybe I’m overthinking it. I overthink a lot of things. But Canyon looks nice tonight. Nicer than he normally looks, and I always think he looks nice. He’s wearing dark washed jeans and a gray long sleeved Henley he left unbuttoned at the top. He even has a new pair of Converse. Not the old torn up pair he always has on.
“Are you even paying attention? You’re missing the killer ripping out the slutty girl’s intestines,” Canyon’s voice invades my head, and I jolt when his lips unexpectedly press against my ear. Instinctively, I turn to look at him with our faces landing inches apart, the tips of our noses touching in the process. A huff of air escapes my mouth and heat swirls between our faces. I’m all too aware of how easy it would be to lean in and kiss him. Find out if his lips are as soft as they look. I bet they taste like popcorn and Snow Caps. The perfect combination of salty and sweet.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips and when his eyes drop to my mouth, a thousand sensations flare to life in the pit of my stomach. I’m on fire. Every inch of me is raging with heat, but all I can think about is his mouth and my mouth and kissing. I swallow hard, eyes wide, my heart thundering in my chest. His head tilts, his nose skimming the side of mine. I close my eyes and clutch the armrest as tightly as I can. Only it turns out not to be the armrest and instead I’m digging my fingernails into Canyon's arm.
He jumps back, cussing under his breath as he examines his arm. Even in the dark I can see the imprints of my nails on his skin. I think one of them might even be bleeding. I’m mortified. Not just because I probably gave him tetanus, but because I think we were about to kiss. Oh my god, we almost kissed.
While Canyon is preoccupied with his arm, I stand up, fumbling around on the ground for my purse.
“Elle,” he says my name on a sigh and tries reaching for my hand.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” I pull my hand away, and before he can respond, move down the aisle and hurry out of the theater. When I get to the bathroom I lock myself in a stall, the reality of this situation hitting me hard. God, this is bad. Canyon and I are friends. Best friends. Which means we sure as hell don’t need to be kissing. Kissing only makes things weird and the last thing I want is for our friendship to be awkward. Canyon is a part of my life now. A huge part. I can’t stand the thought of screwing that up.
By the time I leave the bathroom, Canyon is waiting outside. When he sees me, he shoves his phone in his pocket, and I frown when I see the red marks on his arm. It takes us ten minutes to maneuver our way out of the busy parking lot and by the time we’re driving through town, I’m beginning to wonder if Canyon’s going to avoid talking to me for the rest of the night.
A streak of lightening cuts across the sky right as a light on his dashboard starts blinking. He pulls the truck to the side, and it rolls to complete stop. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Canyon drops his head against the seat and slowly exhales, “We’re out of gas.”
“My house is like a mile away. I don’t think it will kill us to walk.”
Canyon doesn’t argue. We both climb out of his truck, and he locks the doors before we start down the sidewalk.
“You know, this is kind of how that movie started. The car breaking down. A group of helpless college students wandering around trying to find help.”
Canyon smirks and I roll my eyes at his attempt to scare me.
“It’s a good thing neither one of us is a slut. We have a better chance of survival.”
He chuckles and steps in front of me, his hands in his pockets as he walks backwards. “I don’t know. A killer could probably mistake you for a slut in that outfit.”
My mouth drops open. “Fuck you!”
“See! Now you’re telling me to fuck you. You better run fast if you see something emerge from the shadows.”
I laugh because he’s an idiot. Not because he’s ridiculously cute right now.
Out of nowhere, a raindrop hits my head, and then it’s pouring, thunder rumbling ferociously in the background. I squeal, and Canyon takes my hand as we run down the sidewalk, laughing like a bunch of kids caught in a rainstorm. By the time we reach my house, we’re drenched. Canyon runs past me and throws the front door open, still laughing as we stumble inside. The living room is dark, so I assume both mom and Parker are asleep. I press a finger to my mouth to remind Canyon to be quiet as we go to the kitchen.
My tennis shoes squeak against the tile floor as I go to the laundry room and grab a few towels. When I come back, Canyon is hobbling on one foot, yanki
ng his shoes and socks off.
“I’m going to throw my clothes in the dryer.” He takes the towel from my hand and steps past me.
“I’m used to you doing what you want around here. I don’t know why you’re announcing it.”
He disappears into the laundry room, making a bunch of racket before poking his head around the doorframe. “Maybe I just like giving you a play by play,” he says. His head disappears again. More racket.
“Right now, I’m tugging my shirt over my head, and I’m throwing it into the dryer.”
There’s a sharp, wet slap when it hits the dryer. I roll my eyes, trying not to laugh as I towel dry my hair.
“I’m having a hard time getting the zipper on my jeans,” he continues. I catch sight of him hopping around, tugging at his jeans. “There we go. Okay, just building climax there.”
“I’m on the edge of my seat,” I say sarcastically.
“Good. Because I’m taking off my jeans.”
They hit the dryer with a smack, and I swallow hard.
“Hey, guess what boxers I’m wearing.”
“Why would I want to know that?”
“Just guess.”
I kick off my sandals and wrap the towel around my shoulders. “The ones with cameras on them my mom got you for your birthday.”
“Yep. And I just threw them in the dryer.”
I can’t help it. Dirty thoughts spill into my head, and I swear I’m experiencing hot flashes. I try to push away the mental picture of him being naked, but it’s hard when I know he’s a few feet away without a single article of clothing on. He walks into the kitchen and when I see what he’s wearing, I almost melt like the puddles of water on the floor. A towel is wrapped around his hips, showing me more of him than I ever thought I’d see. His hair is damp, curled around his ears, and there’s a little bit of water beaded on his abs.
The hot flashes are starting all over again, but I manage to pull myself together before he notices I’m staring.
“Parker probably has something you can put on until your clothes dry.” I wrap the towel tighter around my shoulders and lead the way out of the kitchen.