“I’m actually not allowed to have girls in my room, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to my mom.”
I giggle as he pulls me toward him. His lips move across me, planting kisses on my lips, my nose, my cheeks, before moving down to the crook of my neck. He weaves one hand through my hair and uses the other to cup my breast, gently catching my nipple between two fingers. With a soft moan, I roll my hips against him, and he pulls back to grab his waistband and slide out of his bottoms.
My breath grows shaky as I move to lie back on his bed. Jake sits on the edge of the bed, lips parted as his eyes run over every inch of me.
“What is it?” I ask, reaching for his hand. He takes it, rolling his thumb in small circles against my palm.
“Nothing,” he breathes. “I just want to look at you for a second.”It’s intoxicating, the way he’s staring at me with such pure desire, and I feel myself arching toward him, ready and needing. He bends to retrieve his wallet, extracting a condom before returning to cover his body with mine. When he slides into me, I gasp, my fingertips pressing into his bare shoulders.
“Oh god.” His voice is ragged as he buries his face against my skin. “You have no idea how long I have wanted this. How long I have wanted you.”
“Me too,” I gasp, pulling him closer as he moves in and out of me. “Me too.” We find our rhythm together, the need slowly building inside of me. He moans my name, his voice raspy as he pulls me down deeper, deeper into the waves, until they take me over completely, and I am gone.
Afterward, I rest my head on his chest, sighing as his fingers trace a lazy, featherlight trail back and forth around my arm. We lay there, listening to the steady patter against the roof and breathing the cool scent of rain that drifts through the window. Jake leans his head down to kiss the top of my head gently, and even in my state of bliss, a shiver runs through me. A few minutes later, his breathing grows heavier, and I know he’s fallen asleep.
I lie awake for a few minutes, wondering what chain of events we have set into motion, what it will mean for the future, and what will come next. But eventually, I succumb to exhaustion and bliss and the steady rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat against my cheek and slip into a deep and dreamless slumber.
WHEN I WAKE UP,the first rays of dawn are seeping in through the plantation shutters. Jake’s facing me, eyelashes brushing the pillowcase, and I lay there, drinking in his sleeping form as I watch the flicker of movement behind his eyelids. There’d been so many nights over the past year when I’d wondered what it would be like to touch him again, to kiss him, to feel the weight of his body against mine. After a while, I wondered if I’d simply builthim up in my memories, creating an impossible standard that no one, not even he, could ever live up to. But being with him last night was somehow even better than I imagined. Our bodies remembered each other instantly, uniting in perfect synchrony, as though no time had passed. And in a way, it was better than it had ever been. Because things are different now. The time we’ve spent together, eating and cooking, learning about each other’s worlds. It’s made everything between us deeper.
I lift my head up, rolling my neck before repositioning my head on the pillow a few inches over. Jake stirs beside me, one arm reaching out to encircle my waist and pull me closer.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs sleepily against my hair. I lean into him, resting my cheek against his shoulder. It feels surreal, impossible, to be beside him again, but at the same time, nothing has ever felt so natural.
“We need to get up. Our flight leaves in ninety minutes.”
He groans, throwing one arm over his eyes, his fingertips brushing lazily down my spine.
“Fine. But only because we need to get out of here before my mother finds out you spent the night in my room and grounds me.” Jake leans in for a final, languid kiss before rolling out of his bed. Snatching his pants from the floor, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. The smile melts off his face as he stares at it, the line behind his brow deepening.
“What is it?” I ask, as I pull my dress over my head. “Did she already find out? Has she sent you a series of stern texts because she’s too polite to barge in and scold us in our scandalous state of undress?” I turn to Jake, expecting a witty retort, but freeze when I see the tension in his expression. “Jake?”
“I thought one night out in my hometown would be no big deal, that even if people got some photos on their phones, it wouldn’t be big news. I can’t believe I was so naïve. I know better than that.” He tosses the phone onto his desk and collapsesback into the matching blue rolling chair, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
“What are you talking about?” I rise from the bed and walk over to stand behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“One of the girls who spotted us in the bar last night posted her photos to Twitter and they went viral. Lydia just texted me.”
He shoves the phone toward me, and my eyes widen. The images are grainy, but clear enough: Jake and me at the bar, tossing back glasses full of karaoke punch. The two of us giggling on the stage, a microphone pressed to my lips. A darker photo of us sitting at a table, his arm slung casually over my shoulder. My heart aches for Jake; I know he was desperate for some sense of normalcy on his trip back home. Yet there’s another emotion competing for my attention: the faintest flicker of happiness. These are the first photos I’ve ever seen of Jake and me together, and I can’t help but savor them. Besides, there are hundreds of candid photos of Jake floating around the internet. What difference can a few more make?
He stands and walks over to the window. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “This is all my fault. I should have done a better job of protecting you.” He crosses the room, putting his hands on either side of my face. My eyes flutter shut as he leans forward to brush his lips against mine. Then he folds his arms around me, holding me tightly. “I just can’t lose you. Not again.”
A wave of confusion washes over me. “Why would you lose me?”
Jake bites his bottom lip. “There’s something more.” He eyes me carefully.
More? What else could there be?
“I don’t know how, exactly, but once the tweet started getting attention, the press was able to ID you. Apparently they received an anonymous tip, and it didn’t take long for them to put two and two together and realize ‘Blueberry’ is about you.”
Letting out a shaky breath, he takes my hands in his.
“Lexi Berman, the whole world is about to know your name.”
18
OUR PLANE WAS SUPPOSEDto touch down in New York at 9:15A.M., but a series of last-minute delays put us two hours behind schedule. By the time I arrive at Olive & Pomegranate, it’s nearly noon, and my clothes are damp with stress sweat.
The first thing I notice when I approach the restaurant is the small group of paparazzi lurking outside the front doors. They’re talking among themselves, cameras dangling from their necks as they sip coffee from paper cups. One of them flicks the tip of his cigarette into a potted plant. Quickly, I slip in through the service entrance, miraculously managing to escape their notice.
