“Then so be it. But it wouldn’t be the end of the world. At least you’ll have tried.”
I bite my lower lip. If only it were that easy. But it’s not. It never has been. Because I am who I am, and Dad was who he was. I’ll never be like him. I open my mouth to say that, but something else comes out instead.
“I called my mom this afternoon. It was stupid. I knew she wouldn’t answer, but her number hasn’t been disconnected yet, and when the voicemail kicked in, there she was. I got so angry. Why did I get angry?”
“You’re allowed to be angry.”
“Really?” My eyes fill with tears. “It doesn’t feel that way.”
“You’re allowed to feel everything.”
The next breath burns in my chest. It hurts, and part of me wants to stop talking and avoid the pain and sadness, at least for tonight. But I can’t avoid it, and I have to let it out. “I miss her. I miss talking to her. I want to tell her and Dad about you.”
“I wish you could.” He sounds moved by the idea. He blinks, and his eyes are just as wet as mine probably are.
“It’s so unfair that I can’t tell them anything about you. I wish they could get to know you. I want—” I break off and take a shaky breath. “I spoke to Mom’s voicemail. It was terrible.Iwas terrible. And I can’t take it back. I talked to her, and I know she’ll never hear it, but I said so many awful things.” There’s a note of shame in my voice.
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
“I did. I shouted at her.” I cover my face with my hand, and Easton’s arms tighten around me. “I asked why they didn’t take a different way home that night, or choose another time to leave. Why not earlier or later? I told her how angry I was.”
Easton is silent for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “I’m sure your mom wouldn’t have thought that was awful. I think she would have wanted you to let your feelings out instead of swallowing them. She would have understood, I’m sure of it.”
He’s right and I know it. I knew the whole time, but until thismoment, I wasn’t sure if I believed it. Sighing, I nestle more tightly against him.
“She would have liked you. Dad already thought you were great.”
He gives me a tiny smile. “I don’t know if he would still think that. Most fathers aren’t very happy about seeing their daughters with boyfriends.”
“Is that what you are?” I ask, surprised by how uncertain I sound. Easton already told me he’s in love with me, after all.
He puts one hand on the side of my face and gently strokes my cheek with his thumb. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes,” I say, my breath catching as his thumb touches my lips. “That’s what I want.” The words come so easily, as if I should have said them from the very start. I probably should have.
Easton sits up and bends over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. In a good way. Much too good.
“I don’t want to worry anymore,” I say. “You’re my best friend, Easton. But you’re also much more than that, because...” I take a shaky breath. “Because I’m in love with you too. I probably have been from the beginning; I just didn’t know it. I don’t want to be scared of it anymore.”
His eyes glow with emotion, and he’s so beautiful that my heart can hardly stand it.
“I want to kiss you,” he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. I love his voice. It’severything. When I hear it, my body is suddenly nothing but heat and urgent wanting.
I put my hands on either side of his face, and instead of answering, I pull him down to me until he kisses me.
Our mouths open at the same time. His tongue is hot, and theworld around me blurs until it ceases to exist. It’s just him and me. His weight is pressing me into the mattress, but he’s still not where I want him to be, where Ineedhim to be. I move my hips, and he understands. In one fluid motion he slides his whole body on top of mine. His groin presses against mine, and I spread my legs. I can feel his erection against my center. It’s almost more than I can bear.
His mouth wanders from my lips down my jaw, my neck, to the collar of my T-shirt. The shirt has to go. His clothes too. I want to feel his skin beneath my hands, on my lips, against mine. I grab the hem of his T-shirt and push it up. His hips instinctively press into mine before he sits up and quickly pulls the shirt off over his head.
I swallow as I look up at him. He’s beautiful. So beautiful. Not as toned as the boys in ballet, but slimmer and more athletic. His muscles aren’t as defined, but he’s still buff. My gaze wanders over his chest, his stomach, and down to the very visible bulge in his boxers before I look back up at his face. His eyes are dark and full of desire, his lips swollen from our kisses. His hair is all messed up; I did that. I forget exactly when and how, but it doesn’t really matter.
I sit up, holding his gaze, and break eye contact only briefly as I take off my shirt. He’s holding his breath; I can see him exhale as soon as I let the T-shirt fall.
“Rayne.” My name sounds like longing when he says it. I reach out a hand to him. I need him to touch me again; It’s almost unbearable when we aren’t connected.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I nod. I don’t think I’ve been this sure of anything in a long time.
