To Be Your Only

by Rae Kennedy

  I reach the stables where I make out a blond head inside—I’d recognize Wes’s short curls anywhere. But just as I come to the entrance I hear Eric’s voice and it makes me stop short.

  “So, are you excited for your date tomorrow?” Eric asks.

  “Uh, yeah. It should be fun. But it’s not exactly a real date.”

  “Why not? Kyla’s a fun girl and she’s cute.”

  “Sure. She’s lots of fun. But I’ve never thought about her that way. I only asked her because you suggested it.”

  I shrink away from the door so I’m sure I can’t be seen. I already knew this information so I don’t know why the words sting.

  “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think you two might hit it off, though. I think you should give this date a fair shot,” Eric says.

  “Hmm.” Wes nods. “But, don’t you think she’s a little young? I mean, she’s Gracie’s age.”

  “Yeah, she’s young, but she’s an adult. She’ll be twenty in September.”

  “You know when her birthday is?”

  “It’s the same week as Gracie’s. They always had joint birthday parties growing up—of course I know when her birthday is.”

  “And you don’t think she’s a little, I don’t know, over-the-top? Like, she talks practically nonstop.”

  “I’ve noticed. I guess it’s never bothered me.” There’s a little irritation in Eric’s voice. “She’s funny and smart and she doesn’t talk nonstop if you actually talk back. Engage in conversation. Maybe you should try it.”

  “Whoa dude, sorry. I wasn’t trying to be offensive. I like Kyla a lot. I’ve just never thought about her in a romantic way.”

  “I’m saying if you’re going on this date, take it seriously, or don’t take her out at all.”

  “All right, man. I will. I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about it. When you were talking about doing a double-date, you made it sound pretty casual.”

  “She’s my little sister’s best friend. She’s practically like my little sister, too. I just want to make sure she’s being treated well.”

  I take a second to compose myself. Three deep breaths. Then I put on my I totally got enough rest and absolutely did not sleep through my alarm smile and walk into the stables to greet Eric and Wes like I haven’t just overheard any of their conversation.

  To Wes’s credit, he immediately smiles, waves me over and offers to saddle up Daphne for me. He’s incredibly nice to me the entire day—not that he’s usually not nice. But he’s definitely being extra nice right now. More smiles. He even winks at me at one point.

  I’m not going to lie and say all of this attention from the man I’ve been desperately crushing on for the last eight years doesn’t feel amazing—because it does. But what I overheard him say about me earlier is still rattling in the back of my head as the day goes on, and it’s tainting everything.

  Too young.

  Over-the-top.

  Talks nonstop.

  In fairness, he’s not wrong. I can be dramatic and I do talk a lot, but, like, in a charming way. And nineteen and twenty-five is a bit of an age-gap, but it’s not like I’m Lolita or some shit. Like Eric said, I’m an adult.

  Remembering the way Eric stuck up for me also fills me with weird feelings. Warm feelings that make me want to hug him. I know it was just him being a good friend and wingman—that’s literally what wingmen are supposed to do, right? They talk up their pilot person. It’s in the job description.

  And then his comment about me being like a sister bubbles up and I get all defensive. Like, I am not your sister, dude. Because that would make this last week of masturbating mishaps way more fucking awkward than they already are.

  “I’m really looking forward to our date tomorrow,” Wes says as we walk back up to the house from the stables, the blush in his cheeks just visible through his tan skin.

  He looks down right after he says it, his lashes fanning across his cheeks. When he looks back up with his light blue eyes and shy smile, I melt. He’s so cute. And sweet.

  “I’m excited too. I think we’ll have a lot of fun.”

  His smile widens. “We’re still on for me picking you up at your house at seven, right?”

  “Correct. Seven o’clock sharp. Except you might want to factor in some buffer minutes in case I have some sort of last-minute fiasco.” Stop talking so much, Kyla.

  “Fiasco?” Wes looks confused.

  “You know”—I count them off on my fingers—“shaving accident, wardrobe malfunction, existential meltdown, deciding to cut my own bangs. That sort of thing.”

  He lets out a belly laugh. “Eric’s right, you are so funny. I don’t know why I haven’t noticed that before.” He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye.

  I nod along, deciding not to mention that all of those things have actually happened to me before a date. Wes smiles and looks at me. I think for the first time, he really looks at me. He tilts his head a little, his grin going lopsided, and brushes a stray lock of hair out of my face.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” This is really happening. For real.

  He waves goodbye as he gets into his truck, and I watch as he drives away down the gravel drive.

  I turn around, a stupid smile on my face that’s so big it’s making my cheeks hurt, and Eric is standing on the porch with his arms crossed, leaning up against one of the big white columns.

  “Ready for your haircut?” I ask.

  With a snort, Eric jerks his chin and pushes off the column. He walks down the steps and heads in the direction of his cottage and I follow.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Almost done.” I lean down in front of Eric and slide my fingers up through his hair, pulling up to check if the length is even. For all of the complaining he does about his red hair, I’ve got to say, it is really nice and thick. And soft. “Need a little more off this side.” I take my scissors again and start trimming.

  Eric has been a good client, sitting perfectly still on a dining chair in the middle of his kitchen, shirtless—of course—while hair clippings fall around him to the floor. He hasn’t complained about the mess and has moved his head this way and that, turning and tilting as I’ve commanded. My boobs have also been at his eye level almost the entire time—he’s done about as good a job of ignoring that fact as I have. That is to say, not a great job at all.

  “So, you said your date’s name is Lucy. Lucy who works at the hardware store?” I ask as I continue to snip.

  “Yep.”

  I haven’t been to the hardware store in quite a while and I’m having a hard time conjuring up an image of Lucy. I know she’s at least four or five years older than me, since she graduated before I got to high school. I guess that makes sense, since Eric is almost eight years older than me. Yep, she’s a perfectly acceptable age for him. Not too young.

  “Are you excited for the date tomorrow?” I come around to his front to check length again—which means my boobs are in his face again.

  “I’m a little nervous.”

  He’s nervous? About Lucy from the hardware store?

  “Is she the girl you told me you have unrequited feelings about?”

  “Uh, no.”

  For some reason, that makes me feel better. I don’t know why, but Eric pining over Lucy from the hardware store just doesn’t feel right.

  “Why didn’t you ask the girl you have feelings for?” I tilt his head to the left then the right to make sure they look the same then start trimming the top and adding texture.

  “She’s...not exactly available right now.”

  “Oh. Okay. Then why are you nervous?”

  “I haven’t been on a date in a while. Over a year. And the last girl I went on a few dates with, I made the mistake of bringing her along to a big family dinner. Totally scared her off.”

  “What? Your family’s great. How did they scare her?”

  “I don’t think you’ve ever been the target of my parents’
well-meaning, but intense form of interrogation.”

  I imagine Tom shaking his chicken leg at me while asking what I want to do with my life.

  “Pshaw. If she couldn’t handle your parents then she definitely wasn’t the right one. You’ve got to find a girl with more lady balls than that. Plus, if you expect her to put up with you the rest of your lives, she’s got to be able to give it as good as she can take it.” I didn’t mean for that to come out as sexual as it sounded.

  “Well, I can definitely give it good,” Eric says with a smirk.

  I smack his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that.” I set the scissors down and reach for the trimmers. “Why so long since your last date?” I turn on the trimmers and start the edging.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve been busy.”

  “That’s a boring answer.”

  He chuckles.

  “Hold still.”

  “I guess it’s also hard dating in this small town. Not a lot of options. And the ones I do have all remember me as a scrawny kid with acne and red hair who was made fun of and didn’t really hit puberty until senior year.”

  “You were never that bad.”

  He gives me a look.

  “Okay, fine,” I say. “But you’ve really, uh, filled out now.” Nicely. Very nicely. “Anyway, high school is dumb and doesn’t really matter. I was constantly called fat in high school. Or sometimes ‘Gracie Gallagher’s friend, you know—the heavy one.’”

  “What?”

  Now it’s my turn to give him the look and I pinch the excess flesh on my thigh to prove it.

  “All right. You do have some meat on your bones—”

  “Thanks,” I deadpan.

  “But it’s in all the right places, trust me. You have a body most guys would like nothing more than to sink into.”

  “Wow.”

  “Sorry.” Eric’s fair skin flushes pink.

  “I never said I listened to those people. Most of them were girls who were probably jealous of my rack and the fact their boyfriends liked my ass better than theirs. And I’ve never had any of the guys I’ve been with complain.” I finish the edging and set the trimmers down.

  “Been with? Like, slept with?” Eric asks, his cheeks getting redder.

  I nod as I brush little hairs off his neck and shoulders.

  “How—how many guys have you been with?”

  Oh. My. God. Did he really just ask me that? I mean, my number is probably higher than most girls my age since I started young—probably too young—but it’s not that many.

  “What the fuck, Eric? What kind of question is that? Do you really think I’m going to answer that? Because the answer is no. No, I am not going to answer that.”

  “I wasn’t going to judge you. I was just making conversation. Sorry.”

  “Fine. How many people have you had sex with? If you tell me your number maybe I’ll tell you mine.”

  He looks away, going quiet. He absolutely doesn’t want to tell me his number. And now I’m intrigued. Why is he suddenly getting shy?

  “Okay, now I have to know, because you don’t want to tell me.”

  He looks back up, a mischievous twinkle back in his dark brown eyes. “Sex could have a lot of definitions. What are we classifying as sex in this case?”

  “You’re right. For this purpose, since you’re a heterosexual male—right?”

  He nods, his mouth in an unamused line.

  “Right. So let’s keep it simple and just count vaginal penetration. With your penis, specifically.” Stop thinking about his penis.

  He squints at me, biting the inside of his cheek, silently for a minute.

  “Is it taking you that long to count?”

  He looks me dead in the eye and says, “Zero.”

  My jaw drops. That seems like such a cartoonish reaction, but I’m that shook.

  “But didn’t you date what’s-her-name right out of high school for like, five years?”

  “Three and a half. She had a lot of conviction in her beliefs and wanted to wait until marriage. And I respected that.”

  “And you didn’t want to fuck her enough to marry her.”

  He cracks a crooked grin. “No, I guess not. I haven’t had an actual girlfriend since. Just dated a bit.”

  “So, you’re a virgin?”

  “I wouldn’t really call myself that. I’ve had many other kinds of sex—just not that specifically.”

  “Oh my god. Are you actually into pegging? Because I was just joking about that, but—”

  “No! Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but, no, pegging is not my kink.”

  I widen my eyes and smile slowly at him and wait.

  “What? What’s that look for?”

  “Well, the way you said that sort of implied that you do have a kink.”

  “Don’t most people?”

  “I don’t know, maybe.” I don’t think I have one, I just like sex in general. “So what is it? You have me curious.”

  He hesitates. “You really want to know?”

  “Yes.” I don’t want to think about the reason why, but I really do want to know.

  I can see him wrestling internally about whether or not to tell me. Finally, he lets out a deep breath and says, “I like to eat pussy.”

  Oh. “That’s not really kinky.” But the words still make my heartbeat quicken.

  He shifts slightly in his seat, coming closer and lowering his voice. “I really like to eat pussy. Sometimes that’s all I want. I could probably go down on a girl for hours.”

  My clit pulses. Oh. Shit.

  I laugh off the uncomfortable amount of heat building under my skin with a joke. “Do you just go around the county offering free cunnilingus services?”

  He laughs. “No. Not exactly. And my services—as you put it—aren’t usually unreciprocated.”

  “So you’ve done lots of oral but none of those women wanted to go further than that?”

  “No. Most of them probably would have. I was the one who didn’t want to go further.”

  “Do you want to wait until marriage, too?”

  “Not necessarily. I just want the first time to mean something. The first time should be sort of special, right?”

  I humph. “Tell that to Darren Johnston.” I still side-eye minivans.

  “I don’t know. The longer I waited, the harder it got to justify doing it with someone random. I figure if I’ve waited this long, it should be for something.”

  “Did you never just want to get it over with?”

  “Sometimes, yeah. But it never felt like the right moment. Or the right person, I guess.”

  “That’s nice. I definitely didn’t wait for someone special.” Side-eyeing you, Darren Johnston.

  “And then there’s the whole kid thing.”

  “Kid thing?”

  He steeples his fingers to his lips. “How to explain... When a man and a woman love each other, they—”

  I smack him on the shoulder. “You brat. You’re lucky I don’t have the scissors in my hand still.”

  “Even if you use protection, accidental pregnancies happen, and that’s kind of one of my criteria.”

  “Criteria? Is there a check-list you’d like to refer me to?”

  “No. But I have to think, is this a person I’d be okay co-parenting a child with for the rest of my life? It’s kind of a big deal, to me, at least. Ideally, I’d be with her and we’d raise our kids together, but I know not everything in life turns out as planned.”

  “I get it. Being raised by a single parent and having a dad who doesn’t really care about being in my life—it is a big deal.”

  He’s looking at me with sad eyes, like he wants to apologize for bringing up the subject but I turn around before we can dwell on it.

  I run water in the sink and get my hands wet then come back to where he’s sitting and comb my wet fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead and into some semblance of a style. We’re close again. His gaze f
lashes down to my cleavage for just a second before he’s looking back at my face.

  “So what’s your number?” he asks.

  “It’s a secret.”

  “No fair, I told you my number. And my kink. You’ve got to give me something.”

  “Do I?”

  He pushes out his bottom lip in a pout. It looks so plump and pink and soft that I have the urge to move in and bite it. I’d bite it until he moaned and then I’d lick away the hurt and take his whole mouth, kissing him hard. I wonder what he tastes like.

  Fuck, I’m staring at his lips again. The tip of his tongue pokes out, wetting those lips.

  He reaches a hand out toward me, his fingers lightly run up the outside of my calf then curl around the back of my knee. The touch is oddly intimate and it makes me straighten instantly.

  I wipe my hands on my jeans and turn around awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but at Eric’s face right now.

  “Your hair looks great. I know that’s basically me complimenting myself, but yeah. I think it turned out well.” I look back at him. His hair does actually look really good. It makes his face look more defined, rugged even. The shadow of a beard that’s starting to come in also looks...hot. Jesus Christ, I need to get out of whatever circle of hell I have apparently wandered into.

  He’s regarding me with his curious little grin, a slight tilt to his head and a glimmer in his eyes that makes me feel like he’s reading my mind.

  Shit on a stick. “I think Lucy will love it. You know, on your date tomorrow. With Lucy.”

  He nods and some of the playfulness dissolves. “Right. Thank you for the cut.”

  “Yep, anytime.” Wait. That was a dumb offer. We should probably not do this again. Ever. “Well, I should be going now.” I shuffle away toward the door.

  “Yeah. See you tomorrow. Are we still going to visit your grandpa in the morning?”

  Fuck me. I did agree to that. “Uh, yeah. Of course. Meet at my place around nine?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Great.”

  “Great.”

  Great.

  CHAPTER 13

  I’m already waiting on the front stoop when Eric pulls up in front of my house at precisely nine.