One Southern Night (A Novella)
Page 7
“Never.” I push her toward her orgasm, giving her everything she demands from my body until she breaks. Being with Laney is beyond amazing; her smell, her sounds, the way she feels. It’s sensation overload.
“Oh, God!” She comes in a rush, propelling my release. With my own climax threatening, I wring out every drop of ecstasy from her I can.
As she writhes and moans beneath me, I explode, my body seizing in pure rapture. When my orgasm releases me, I drop down into Laney’s waiting arms. She hugs me tight. I hug her back; scenting her skin, skimming my teeth against her flesh, memorizing every luscious inch of her.
“Is that the first time you ever blew the whistle on the fifty-yard line?” she asks while gliding her fingers up and down my back.
I chuckle. “Yes. You?”
Laney laughs. “Definitely.”
“How was it?”
“Unforgettable.”
I peck her on the lips. I am idiotically happy at the moment. And it’s not because I just got laid. I very reluctantly withdraw from Laney --I could stay buried in her all night—and roll onto my back, snuggling her into the crook of my arm. We lay quietly, me rubbing her hip, her rubbing my chest. For the first time in months, everything feels right. It’s like when Laney is next to me my life is aligned. I kiss her head.
“What was that for?”
“Nothin’.” I shrug. “Can’t a guy just kiss his girlfriend?”
She glances up at me. “Is that what I am?”
“Well, Lemon, when I said strings I wasn’t talking about shoelaces.”
“Glad you made that clear.” She tightens her arm around me. I smile.
“Why do you always smell so good?” I breathe her in. That strange, exotic scent is tingling my senses.
“Because I shower.”
I pinch her playfully. “Smart-ass city girl.”
“Hey!” She flinches, giggling. “It’s Plumeria.”
“Plum-whatta?”
Now she is full-blown laughing. “It’s a flower that grows in Hawaii. My mom always brings me back perfume when she goes.”
“Hawaii, huh?” I stare into the black ocean above us glowing with stars. “She ever take you on her business trips?”
“If she can. And if I’m not in school. Why? Want to go to Hawaii?”
“Might not be a bad idea. I’m going to have some free time on my hands.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’m not going to play football anymore.” That’s the first time I’ve admitted that out loud. It feels like someone just stabbed me.
“Why aren’t you going to play football anymore?” Laney asks softly, snuggling closer to me.
I huff. “Because I can’t throw anymore, Lemon. My accuracy is gone. And without that, I’m no good to anyone.”
Laney frowns. “Kam, you really believe your football career is over?”
I want to say no, but it’s time to face facts. “I think it is.”
Laney stares at me for a long minute. “How was it before you had the aneurysm?”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, what did you do differently then compared to now?”
“Nothing. I just picked up a football and threw. I never had to think about it.”
“Maybe that’s your problem. You’re so worried, you’re over thinking it.”
I gaze blankly at Laney. Over thinking it? Is that possible? “I never thought of it like that.”
“Well this night is all about new perspective, right?”
“I guess.” I nuzzle her neck and nip at her skin.
My Lemon is smart, sassy, and now psychoanalytic. I hit the jackpot with this one.
I hold the football in my hands as the dawn peeks out from the behind the horizon.
It’s Monday morning. Laney and I spent the entire weekend together making up for lost time. I don’t think seven days a week, twenty-four seven would be enough time to spend with Laney. The girl has me hooked, and there’s no place I’d rather be. Except maybe on a football field. Preferably with Laney. Naked.
I roll the ball between my palms and inhale the smell of early morning. Everything is peaceful. Everything is quiet. I stare at the tire swing as pink light casts its luminescent glow.
Maybe you’re over thinking it. Maybe she’s right.
I close my eyes. What do I have to lose? Placing my fingers between the laces, I just let go; tossing the ball at the tire. I send every dream, every hope, and every expectation spiraling through the air. I open my eyes just in time to see the football pass through the hole. Something inside me lifts, then cracks. I pick up another football and throw again, sending it straight through the hole. Tears actually prick my eyes. I throw pass after pass, the way I once had. Almost every attempt hitting the target. I wipe my eyes after the bin is empty. “Yes!” I scream as loud as I can. The heaviness I’ve been carrying around the past few months now seems like nothing more than a weightless cloud. It feels like I just won a war.
I walk back into my house like I’m on air. My mother is standing at the kitchen counter. Her eyes are bright and brimming with tears, she must have been watching. She hugs me. “Kam, I want you to know, whether you play football or not, I love you. I never thought to tell you that because I thought you already knew. But now I’m making it perfectly clear. I proud of you for who you are, not what you can do.”
I hug her tighter. “Thanks, Mom.” I adore this woman. I don’t know what I would do without her. Oh, right, laundry, according to Laney.
My mom lets go and holds my face in her hands. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I respond, and she releases me.
“I gotta get to school.”
“Picking up Laney?” my mom asks slyly as she opens the refrigerator.
“Yup,” I smirk, and walk out of the room.
Laney and I drive to school quietly while Justin Timberlake sings about it not being a bad thing to fall in love. At the moment, I’m inclined to agree. I squeeze her hand and glance over at the city girl whose presence, when we first met, felt like sudden impact. And still does in a way.
I pull into the packed parking lot. Everyone is hanging out, not sweating first period. The last week of school the vibe is laid back. Finals are done, sports are over, and summer break is about to begin. You can feel the excitement in the air.
“Ready for your last week as a high school student?” Laney smiles at me.
I look at the brick building I’ve spent the last four years in. Lots of memories, lots of fun, some regrets.
“Yeah, I think I am,” I smile back.
Laney opens the door, but I snatch her hand. “One thing, though.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
I reach into the back seat. “I want you to wear this.” I hold up the shirt. Laney looks down at my practice jersey and then back up at me. “I know it, and you know it, now I want everyone else to know exactly who you belong to.”
She beams and pulls on the jersey. It goes perfect with her little cut-off shorts and Converse sneakers. I wonder if one of these days I can persuade her to wear a pair of cowboy boots. Preferably naked.
“I think it’s only fair if I wear something of yours you should wear something of mine.”
I look at her funny.
“Relax. It’s not my underwear or anything.” She giggles, as she removes a thick, black braided bracelet from her wrist. I would have never even noticed it; she’s wearing like twenty of them. “I made it for you.”
“You did?” I slip it on. It feels right.
“Hmmm hmmm. I wanted you to have something to remember me by.”
My face falls. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Maybe. I still haven’t decided where to go to college.”
“What are your options?” I swallow the lump in my throat. I know Laney has never been thrilled to live here, even if she did say the county was growing on her.
“New York, New Jersey, Maryland, and Alabama.”
> “Alabama?” My interest is piqued.
“Yes. Miranda talked me into the applying to the University of Alabama. She has this nutty hope we could go to college together.”
“And you’re having trouble deciding?”
“I’m not sure the new star quarterback for the Crimson Tide wants his high school girlfriend toting after him all year.” She bites her lip. It’s sweet and sexy all at the same time.
“Laney? Are you crazy? I’m personally driving to Tuscaloosa so you can drop off your deposit.” I pull her
over the seat and into my arms. Then I kiss her so hard she squeaks. I hope everyone sees, too.
“So you wouldn’t mind if I stayed?” She bats her eyelashes. A piece of dyed red hair is falling over her face.
“Mind? Lemon, if you decided to go anywhere else, I would haul you back here. No questions, no arguments.”
Laney kisses me, and there’s so much heat behind it, the windows may just shatter. “Keep that up, sugar, and we may end up in the storage room.” I joke.
“One, don’t ever call me sugar. Two, I think we still have twenty minutes before first period.” Laney smiles shamelessly.
“I love you.” I laugh.
Laney freezes. Her blue eyes, wide. Whoops that just slipped out. I wait for a response. And wait and wait. Should I worry yet? Then Laney relaxes in my arms and slips her hands around my neck. “I love you, too.”
Words have never sounded so good. Except for ‘you have been accepted to the University of Alabama.’
“Let’s go, Lemon. I want to show my new bracelet off.” I smack her ass.
She kisses my neck.
We each step out of my pickup and meet at the back of the cab. I grab her hand and look up; that’s when I notice everyone staring. Laney fidgets.
“Why are you fidgeting? I thought you were used to being in the spotlight?”
“I never said I was used to it.” Laney squeezes my hand. “I’d rather it be reserved for the men in my life,” she says so only I can hear her.
“Well that better change fast. Because if they didn’t know you before, they sure as hell are going to know you now.” I look down at her.
Lucky number seven: Kamdyn Fucking Ellis’ girl.
The End
Not a Bad Thing- Justin Timberlake
Cruise- Florida Georgia Line
Don’t You Wanna Stay- Jason Aldean
Bleed It Out- Linkin’ Park
Marissa Carmel has loved writing ever since a young age. She has a duel degree in History and Political Science, but took as many creative writing classes in college as she could. She spent most of her twenties bartending, which is where she met her husband and a multitude of interesting people. When she’s not reading or writing, she’s hanging out with her family, experimenting in her kitchen or doing yoga on the living room floor.
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Other Works by Marissa Carmel
Stripped From You (Strip You Series #1)
Strip Me Bare (Strip You Series #2)
These were the hardest twenty thousand words I ever had to write. I’ve never pulled characters out of thin air before, and if it weren’t for some awesome people, this novella would not be the work it is today. For Megan Smith, our friendship means the world. You have done so much for me, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express my gratitude. For Allison Friar for informing me about all things Crimson Tide and Alabama. To my brother Jerry, for sharing his football and locker room stories. My husband Danny for helping coordinate plays for a powder puff football game (being married to a quarterback paid off). My editor Jenny Sims, my all-star beta reader Candy Royer, my amazeballs cover designer Marisa Shor (Cover Me, Darling) and MC’s groupies for always wanting more. Till the next!