Crush

by Mae Wood

  “I’ll be brave for a minute if you’ll be brave too.” The words rushed out of him, another confession.

  “Deal.”

  “I want more of that. More of you. More of whatever in the hell witchcraft you’ve got going on.”

  “I can work with that.” I felt a smile crawl across my lips and my voice cracked a bit with relief and a bone-deep longing.

  “Deal should close in August or September. It’s not quite June. That’s a long time.”

  “We can’t fuck this up.” The confession was mine. It was brutal and bare and completely committed.

  “What don’t you want to fuck up?”

  “Either. Both. Everything.” I laughed at knowing what I wanted but not knowing how to say it because putting words to it made it seem even crazier than I knew it was.

  “I get that. I don’t want to fuck anything up. Is your cousin going to be cool?”

  “Yeah, I think so. And it’s, what—June, July, August, September. Three, four months? That’s not a long time.”

  “It isn’t?” I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. I could hear the moment he stepped off the edge of the known world and joined me in this unending fall.

  “No, it’s not,” I said. “That’s part of the witchcraft.”

  “When can we—”

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Is ‘driving to Davis’ the wrong answer or the right one?”

  “One hundred percent the right answer.”

  “I’m feeling a gnarly headache coming on.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” I said in a saccharine voice.

  “Yeah, it is. I’m going to take some meds, but they’re not going to work, and then I’m going to bail early. May have to work from home tomorrow.”

  “I really, really don’t hate that at all.”

  “See you in about four hours.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ryan

  Tylenol down the hatch, and an hour later I’d begged out of work and was in my car, headed to Davis. The drive was the worst. The traffic was fine—leaving the city in the middle of the afternoon had some advantages—but I couldn’t get my car to go fast enough. Every mile felt like ten. How did time with her go so quickly, and time without her never seem to pass?

  Finally, I pulled up in front of a neat sixties ranch. It wasn’t any different from my childhood home in Bakersfield. I could guess the floor plan. Probably three bedrooms. What did she do with all that space? Oh damn, I bet she’s got roommates. I really hoped they weren’t home.

  Behind a screen door, the bright blue front door stood open. “Kenzie?” I called from the stoop.

  I heard feet pad my way and a brunette in yoga clothes emerged around a corner. “Oh, hey! Ryan?”

  “Yeah,” I said. Roommate. Damn.

  “Come on in,” she said, tilting her head to the side a few degrees, giving me the once-over. She seemed less than comfortable about me.

  “Nah, I can just wait for Kenzie. I’m early. I’ll go get a coffee or something.”

  “Really, come on in. She said you’d be here, but later.”

  I stepped into the small foyer with its worn parquet floor and brightly colored rug. “Yeah, I was able to get away early.”

  “Cool,” she said, rummaging through a backpack and paying zero attention to me. “She’s still at a study group, I think. Anyway, she’s not here. She said she’d be back by four. I’m on my way to a class, so just make yourself at home, I guess.”

  “Thanks—” I said, looking at her expectantly, hoping she’d give me her name.

  “Oh! I’m Sarah.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Her room is the second on the right. Gotta go. See you later.”

  With that, the whirlwind that was Sarah left me alone in the foyer. I hadn’t gotten a read on her. I wasn’t sure if I was actually welcome or if I really did need to grab a coffee until Kenzie was free. I texted Kenzie and let her know I was at her place and asked her if it was really cool that I was there, but when she didn’t respond right away, I decided that since I was the only one there, it really didn’t matter if I stayed.

  I wandered out of the foyer to explore. The living room was a disaster—throw pillows and mismatched sofas—and the kitchen wasn’t much better. The best I could say was that it wasn’t obviously a health hazard. Throughout the place, the walls were filled with framed posters of famous art and bulletin boards with snapshots stuck in with thumbtacks. It wasn’t like my place was photo-ready or that I was a design guy, but holy hell, at least it was neat. The distance between where we were felt huge at that moment. We were in two very different spaces, literally. I owned my apartment. She was living in the girl version of a frat house.

  We were miles from Bakersfield, but farmland was farmland and sixties-style ranches were sixties-style ranches. I’d been in versions of this house my entire life, but most of the time families had lived in them, not, what—based upon the large Greek letters painted on the wall of the dining room—was a group of sorority sisters? She really was living in the girl version of a frat house. What was I doing here?

  The short hall led to what I expected to be three bedrooms and a bathroom. The door to McKenzie’s room was decorated with more photos of her and her friends, her family, a dog, and wine reviews marked up with snarky commentary written in hot pink marker. She’d cut the reviews out and then put them on bigger paper and went to town. She really enjoyed taking swipes at some reviewer named Sterling Lancaster, and a few of her notes had me smirking and cheering her along. His pretentious reviews matched his pretentious name. I bet her notes would be even funnier if I knew more about wine.

  I pushed on her bedroom door and it swung open. The randomness of the rest of the house came to an abrupt end. A sturdy brass bed with white bedding and small, deep blue flowers. White furniture and curtains. A white rug with some blue edging. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t sophisticated. It wasn’t at all what I expected. I dropped my duffel bag by the closet door and spun around, trying to figure out exactly what I had been expecting.

  Chaos—that’s what I’d been expecting from her because she’d thrown my life completely upside down. But this wasn’t chaos. This was peaceful and calm and someplace where I wanted to relax.

  My mind drifted to some definite future with her. The walls of a kitchen that were painted blue against the white cabinets and countertops. Her hair was an after-sex disaster and her flushed skin was peeking around one of my hockey jerseys that came down to her knees. And I was putting together a cheese plate and she was opening wine and chattering on about it and I was so damn happy—

  Where did that come from? Way too fast, man. That’s way too fast.

  I shook my head to clear it and looked around her room again. Her bookshelf and bedside table were crammed with books and magazines, mainly about wine, and a fat green Complete Works of William Shakespeare lived on the bottom shelf. Was it for a class? Had she even read any of it? Read all of it? Skipped the sonnets in favor of the plays? I didn’t want to know. I wanted to live in this fairy tale about a girl who sowed chaos and lived in peace with poems by her bed and wore my old jerseys to sleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kenzie

  My phone bleeped with an SOS from my roommate Sarah, so I immediately abandoned my study group and gave her a call.

  “What’s up? You okay?”

  “There’s a man at our house?” Her voice rose at the end, like she was asking a question.

  “Ummm. What? What man?”

  “Ryan. He’s a man.”

  “Yeah, I told you and Hallie about him staying with me and you were both cool.”

  “You did not tell us that he’s a man man.”

  “Were you expecting someone less manly?”

  “Jesus. He’s got a real beard. He’s like old, McKenzie.”

  “He’s not like old old.”

  “He’s definitely older than Hallie’s TA of the Month.”

>   “Tucker’s probably, what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? So yeah, Ryan’s older.”

  “Um, anything more than five years different is creepy.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says us when Hallie was dating that post-doc in the fall. Come on.”

  “He’s hot.”

  “That’s beside the point. He’s so much older—”

  “He’s only thirty—”

  “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “If you want to join Hallie in the old-man club, fine. But other than the obvious reasons, why would he be interested in you?”

  “Why would he be interested in me?” I parroted back, stunned that she’d get in my face like this. He was interested in me. Why wouldn’t he be interested in me? I’m interesting.

  “Besides sex. I mean, if this is all sex and you’re not going to get all wrapped up in him and then fall apart and run away, then I’m okay with it. We’re graduating in two weeks. This was supposed to be about our big college blowout and now I won’t have a wingwoman, so I’m a little pissed about that.”

  “So that’s what this is about? I’ll still be your wingwoman.”

  “You won’t. But that’s cool. You’re going to miss the best parties because I bet he’s going to want to go to sleep by ten.”

  Ryan in bed asleep by ten? Oh, hell no, he might be in bed then, but he damn well won’t be asleep.

  I hopped off my bike and rested it against the front stoop railing. I looked down the street, wondering which car was his. Parking in Davis was a nightmare, so there were always random cars even on our relatively quiet street. I hoped he brought a bike. Or at least knew how to ride one. Otherwise, it was going to be a pain to go anywhere.

  “Ryan?” I called, stepping into the house and looking for him. When I didn’t see him, I called again, moving down the hallway. “Ryan?”

  “Hey,” he said, stepping out of my bedroom and walking toward me.

  I hadn’t even had to work for what I was after—him with that naughty-boy smile.

  “How’s the headache?” I asked, feeling warmth crawl up from my chest to my cheeks, but not from embarrassment. How he looked at me was beyond shameless. And I had no doubt my face was the same.

  “Maybe it was a migraine? It was truly awful. Never had one before.” He took a step toward me.

  “But you may have another in the morning, right?” I said, a wiggle to my hips as I stepped toward him.

  “Is this an invite to play doctor-patient?” One more step and he wrapped me up in his arms.

  Our lips collided. I was ravenous for him. I hadn’t realized the depths of my hunger until this moment when we were together again. Off came our shirts.

  “Pretty bra,” he said, trailing a lazy finger along the lace edge of a bright pink cup, his finger ghosting my breast. My skin prickled in response and my nipples tightened. I felt needy and satisfied at the same time. A need for us to be naked, my hot skin melding with his until there was no space between us. And with that greedy need, there was a certain rightness. That I knew this would be good, that I knew we would be good.

  I slid my hands up and down his sides, gently scoring him with my fingernails, and watched his body quiver in response. “Pretty you,” I said, my hands finding his belt and beginning to work the buckle.

  He exhaled my name. I paused my work and looked up at him expectantly.

  “Yeah?” I said after a beat when he didn’t go on.

  “You.” The predatory grin from earlier was gone. His eyes were wide and his features softened. “Just you.”

  He took my mouth with his own and we tumbled into bed, working together to pull off clothes with a fury to get as close as we both needed to be.

  On my back, naked beneath him, I parted my legs, wrapping them around his waist and hooking my feet together. I wanted to be near him in every way. I couldn’t get close enough. He couldn’t be deep enough inside me. “Please.”

  He nudged my entrance with his cock. “You ready?”

  “Yes,” I exhaled. I was past ready for this. I rolled my hips and tried to capture him. He slid into me and I oofed out a breath.

  “Good?” he asked, his nose nuzzling mine.

  “The best,” I said, taking his mouth with a lush kiss full of tongue and languid pleasure.

  He rocked into me and I held firm, relishing the harsh thrusts and soft kisses. This wasn’t wild. There were no porn moves, no Cosmo sex tricks. This was me and him with nothing between us and it was what I’d really wanted even though I didn’t know before that moment that it even existed.

  He picked up his pace, rising above me, each new thrust hitting my clit, sparks shooting through my toes and blurring my vision. I lifted my head and dropped kisses on his chest. The smattering of dark hair and hot skin were damp from his efforts. I rolled my tongue around a nipple and sank my teeth in.

  “Holy shit,” he bit out. “Holy shit. Kenz.”

  “More?” I said, the naughty smile now mine. I looked up at him, his face hovering far over my head.

  “Yeah,” he said. There was no smile returned to me. He was so close that this wasn’t silly anymore.

  “Get on it.” I reached out and slapped his ass and banged my heels against his back, urging him on, to go faster. I’d get mine. I had no doubt about that, but I wanted him to come for me. I wanted him to break for me. I wanted to completely wreck him.

  Faster and faster he pumped. I gently bit him again and he froze over me, his eyes bulging and his jaw open, gasping and groaning. My cheeks pulled as I smiled at his blissed-out face. I’d done that. I’d given him that. His breathing slowed and he dropped down to his elbows, covering my face and neck with kisses.

  “Kenz, you didn’t, right?” he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling and sending a different round of shivers down my spine. I shook my head. “I’m on it.”

  He slid down my body, planting a kiss at my navel before dipping his face to lick me lower. I’d settled in to enjoy the pleasure when he paused. I lifted my head to find him staring at me, all the joy washed from his face.

  “We forgot the condom,” he whispered, sitting back on his heels.

  “It’s okay,” I said, reaching for his shoulders but he didn’t give in to me. His back was stiff and straight. “I’m on birth control. Really.”

  “I can’t believe we forgot. I can’t believe I forgot.” The fear was gone, replaced by something like anger.

  “I wanted it. I thought you wanted it too,” I said. “We’re good.”

  “Kenz, what if—”

  “‘What if’ is a stupid game to play. You’re not going to get me pregnant.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ryan

  Kenzie. Pregnant.

  The daydream I’d had earlier of her in a blue kitchen wearing one of my hockey jerseys flashed in my head, changed this time—her belly was round. It scared the shit out of me. And what scared the shit out of me more was that I didn’t hate the idea. Hell no and hell yes battled in my brain. Breathe, breathe.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Nothing to apologize for. We both got carried away. I’m not complaining.”

  “Do you do this a lot?”

  “What?”

  “Unprotected sex. You do that a lot?”

  I felt her bristle and knew I’d completely stepped in it.

  “Whoa, wait. That was wrong. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What I meant to say is that you aren’t freaking out. Why aren’t you freaking out?”

  “Because I didn’t forget. Because of science. And because it was okay with me.”

  “It was ‘okay’?”

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean, I’m okay with doing that with you. The unprotected sex thing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive, unlike the pregnancy test I’m going to take in a couple of weeks just to show you. You do know how birth control works, right? We’re good. Come here,” she said, beckoning me to her.

  I curled up with her, our arms and
legs entwined.

  “Why’d you freak out on me?” Her question was a whisper, the softness wrapping around me in a blanket of concern.

  And what could I say to that as I lie warm and, well, safe in her arms, relaxing as the adrenaline surge faded away? The truth? About how Olivia had fucked me up in more ways than I could count? About how I hadn’t had a relationship in the years since her? About how that probably stunted my growth and how I’d turned into a workaholic?

  “I dunno,” I said, hugging her to me.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “To your question earlier about unprotected sex. It felt right with you, so I did it. It hasn’t felt right before.”

  I let the weight of that settle over me. She’d chosen me. Without even telling me, she’d chosen me. I hugged her tight to my chest, wanting her in every way.

  She pulled back from my grasp and looked me in the eye, drumming her fingers across my sternum. I felt the reverberations into my heart. “Thought one of us should be honest here.”

  Yeah, it’s right. It’s right to tell her. “I was almost engaged before. I had this whole idea of what my life would look like and then it just didn’t anymore.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, kissing my cheek and stroking my chest.

  “I’m not. We’d been together a few years and I couldn’t get her to set a date or pick a location or anything. And we didn’t … well, we always used condoms. Looking back on it, I should have seen it coming. But at the time, I was just so convinced of what I wanted that I just barreled straight on.”

  “You? Pushy? Never!” she exclaimed in a soft mock gasp.

  “I know, right? Anyway, she got brave on martinis one night and she told me she didn’t want what I wanted. That marriage and kids were a big question mark for her. I wanted those things. And we split.”