He held my hands like that, over my head, digging into the bed, when he was deep inside me. I think he was remembering that too as he stared at our clasped hands.
“I’m right where I’m supposed to be,” he said, looking at me, his brown eyes burning into mine. Into me.
“Me too,” I said.
He nodded toward my laptop. “So, write that. Life is good, you’re the person you want to be, and you’re crazy nuts about your boyfriend.”
We’d never said the boyfriend/girlfriend words out loud to each other. Though I knew we were exclusive.
The second time we had sex in my room, he held my hands like he was now and held himself away from me. “You’re mine,” he’d said, and I knew it wasn’t a question.
“Yes, I’m yours,” I’d answered, meaning it. Then I’d turned myself, coming on top of him and leaned down, letting my hair fall around us, cocooning us. “And you’re mine,” I’d said, again with no question, though God, I wasn’t as sure of myself as he’d been.
“Yes, I’m yours,” he’d said, and flipped me again, driving into me as he pushed my legs up to my chest.
That was all the talk of exclusivity we’d had, but it was all we needed.
“Yes,” I said, motioning with my free hand to the laptop, “I can indeed say I’m good and crazy about myboyfriend.” I emphasized it, so he’d know I was cool with it. Cool with it? Hell, I’d wear his letter jacket and school ring if people still did that kind of shit.
“But then what do I write for the other three thousand words?”
He smiled that killer dirty smile that usually only came out when he was getting me out of my clothes. “What? You can’t espouse on my hotness for three thousand words?”
“Seriously? Espouse?”
“I did go to college for three years, you know. Some of it sank in.”
“I thought you majored in football?”
He shrugged and sat back in his seat. I disentangled my hand from his and leaned so I could run my fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. I never got tired of sinking my fingers into that silky mess. “I could easilyespouseon how hot you are. For a freakin’ novel, let alone three thousand words. But I’m guessing that’s not what the prof has in mind.”
I sat back in my seat, letting go of him. I checked the time on my phone. “Those ladies have to be out of the locker room by now. You should probably get in there.”
We were really careful about spending time together when Lucas was officially on the clock. He couldn’t jeopardize this job.
He didn’t talk about it much, but I knew there was some legal stuff looming with Andy and his mom and that whole thing.
He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a couple of minutes. So, tell me who you think you are. Don’t worry about getting it down on paper right now.”
“I…I…you know me,” I said, getting uncomfortable. This was even worse than trying to write it and coming up with nothing.
“I’d like to think I do, yeah. But who doyouthink you are, Lily?”
“I’m…I’m…” I fidgeted in the desk, pulling it a bit a way from him. He readjusted, moving his phone from his pocket to the desk and setting it next to Bribury key ring he carried, seemingly settling in.
I loved to look at him, but I found it easier to speak if I looked away, at the front of the out-of-use classroom. These rooms still had blackboards, not the whiteboards or electronic whiteboards that all the other rooms on campus were equipped with.
In my mind I saw snatches of words, phrases writing themselves on the blackboard. “Alexis’s younger sister. Gray’s older sister. Grayson and Susan Spaulding’s second child.” I paused.
“You mentioned your father that night we went to look at the graffiti. Who is he, anyway? I’m assuming politics or some CEO or something.”
It was a fair assumption, given the majority of the student population at Bribury came from one of those two worlds. Sometimes both.
“Politics. He’s a political consultant. He’s run a presidential campaign.”
“Did his guy win?”
I didn’t want to get too deeply into it. We were now sliding from my story into Jane’s, and it wasn’t my story to tell. “No. But he’s had other big wins.”
