25
VIGINTI QUINQUE
Calla
I don’t wake until morning, and when I do, Finn is gone. That’s the first thing I notice.
I open my eyes and my hand runs along the cool smooth sheets of the empty side of my bed.
The second thing I notice is the piano music.
Since I know there isn’t a funeral today, this is very odd. My mother was the only one who knew how to play in our family.
I crawl out of bed and pad down the stairs, inching into the Chapel, not sure what I expect to see. But nothing I expect prepares me for what it is.
Dare sits at the piano in the front, the sunshine pouring in from the windows above and reflecting off of his dark hair, like he’s been chosen by God Himself. His eyes closed in concentration, he plays as if the music flows through him like blood or air, like he has to play to live.
I lean against the door, watching his hands span the keys, urging the music from them, with all the grace of an accomplished pianist. I don’t recognize the song, but it’s beautiful and haunting and sad.
It’s just right for this place.
And even though Dare is wearing dark jeans and a snug black shirt and that trendy silver ring on his middle finger, he’s right for this place too.
Because he’s playing the piano as it should be played.
With reverence.
Here in this chapel, it’s only right to revere our surroundings, the quiet peacefulness of a room used to honor the dead.
I close my eyes for a minute, unable to stop myself from imagining what it would be like if his hands worshipped my body in the same way as they worship the keys. My dreams have been like foreplay, because every night, he touches me. He claims my body as his own, and every night, I enjoy it. Right now, I recall those dreams, and my cheeks flush as I picture his fingers trailing over my hip, up my abdomen, pausing at my breasts. My lips tingle from wanting his kiss. My breath hitches, my tongue darts out, licking at my lips, my face slightly feverish.
It’s only now that I realize the music has stopped.
I open my eyes and find Dare turned toward me, watching me. There is amusement in his eyes, like he knows exactly what I’d been daydreaming.
If ever there was a time to wish the floor would open up and swallow me, it is now.
“Hi,” he offers. “I hope I didn’t wake you. Your dad said I could come in and grab some orange juice. I saw the piano and…well, I intruded. I’m sorry.”
His accent makes everything ok. And the fact that he plays the piano. More than ok, in fact, it might make him the sexiest man alive.
“You’re not an intrusion,” I tell him. Or if he is, he’s a welcome one. “You play beautifully.”
He shrugs. “It was one of my step-father’s rules. Everyone in his family had to learn to play because that’s what refined people do.” He looks bored with the sentiment and closes the lid to the keys.
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you? Refined, I mean.”
Because his LIVE FREE tattoo begs to differ.
He smiles. “I’m a bit of a rogue, I’m afraid.”
I’m not. Afraid, that is.
“Your dad said to tell you that he had to run into town,” he offers as he gets up and lithely moves toward me. I can’t help but draw a parallel… between Dare and a graceful jungle cat. Long, lithe, slender, strong. He and I are connected by an invisible band, and he flexes that band as he strides down the aisle of the chapel before he stops in front of me like a panther.
Am I his prey?
God, I hope so.
In the light, his eyes are golden, and I find I can’t look away.
“Thanks,” I tell him. “I bet my brother went with him.” I don’t mention that my brother slept in my bed last night, because that would seem weird. Like always, I have to hide certain things for appearances sake.
“I don’t know about that,” Dare answers. “I haven’t seen Finn today.”
“He must’ve,” I murmur. In fact, my father probably took Finn in to his group. I’m free to focus on what is standing in front of me.
Dare DuBray.
His smile gleams.
“I have another question to ask you,” he tells me, with a certain smug look settling on his lips. I raise an eyebrow.
“What, already? You just asked one days ago.”
He chuckles. “Yep. But not here. I want to ask it somewhere else.”
I wait.
And wait.
“And that is…where?” I finally ask.
He smiles. “Out on the water.”
I pause. “On the water? Like, on our boat?”
He nods. “Is that ok?”
Of course it is.
“It’s just a little boat,” I warn him. “Nothing fancy.”
“That’s perfect,” he answers. “Because I’m nothing fancy, either.”
Au contraire. But of course I don’t say that. And it’s a good thing I slept in my clothes because this way, we can go straight there without pause. But of course I don’t say that either.
Instead, I simply lead the way outdoors and to the beach, not hesitating in the rain.
“We can still go,” I tell him. “It’s just a little rain, the waves aren’t bad.”
“I’m not worried,” he grins. “I’m used to rain.”
“That’s right,” I answer as I motion for him to climb aboard. “I forgot.”
He steps across and I untie the boat from the dock, before I toss the rope to him. I leap before the boat can float away, and land unceremoniously beside him.
He lounges against the hull as I steer through the bay, and suddenly, the rain stops as suddenly as it started. The clouds part, the sun shines down upon us and I lift my face to the warmth.
I live for times like these, when my grief pauses long enough for me to enjoy something.
And I have to admit, I’ve been enjoying more and more moments since Dare came to my mountain.
“You make me feel guilty,” I tell him quietly, opening my eyes. He’s sprawled out, his legs propped up on a seat. He glances at me, his forehead furrowed.
“Why in the world is that, Calla-lily?”
The name makes me smile.
“Because you make me forget that I’m sad,” I say simply.
Softness wavers in Dare’s eyes for a minute before they turn back into obsidian. “That shouldn’t make you feel guilty,” he tells me. “In fact, that makes me happy. I don’t like the idea of you being sad. Come sit by me.”
He opens his arms and I sit on the seat next to him, leaning against his hard chest and into his beating heart. His arms close around me and for the first time in my life, I’m lounging in a guy’s embrace. And not just any guy. Dare DuBray, who I’m guessing could have any girl he wants.
And right now, in this moment, he wants me.
It’s unfathomable.
It’s the perfect temperature as we drift in the sun, as the warmth saturates my shirt and soaks into my skin. I drag one hand over the side, letting it float on the surface of the water as I listen to Dare’s heart.
It’s strong and loud against my ear.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The rhythmic sound reminds me of the day he was punching the shed.
I look up at him, reluctant to bring it up, but wanting to know the answer.
“That day outside,” I begin. “When you were punching the shed. What exactly was making you so upset?”
He almost flinches, but he doesn’t move. He keeps his arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders and his dark eyes closed.
“Why do we have to talk about that?” he asks, his voice husky with relaxation. “I thought you wanted to hear my question?”
“I do,” I tell him quickly. “But I want to hear this first. You told me you were mad at yourself, that you were letting something get to you. What was it?”
Because I have to know.
He sighs, and then opens his gorgeous eyes.
“You,” he says softly, the word grazing along the edge of my heart. “I’m letting you get to me.”
I suck in my breath and draw back, trying to see more of his face, trying to figure his answer out.
“Why would that piss you off?” I ask him hesitantly. “I’m a girl, you’re a guy, I think it’s an entirely normal thing.”
He closes his eyes again, but his arms are still wrapped around me. Thank God.
“It is. But you’re not in a good place and I guess I was pissed at Serendipity for her bad timing.”
I’m silent because I don’t know what to say, and Dare opens one eye.
“Back home, girls often want to date me because of my step-father’s family, because they have a lot of money. I hate all of it, but I especially hate the part where I never know when someone is sincere and wants to be close to me just because I’m me.”
He pauses for a minute. “You have no idea who I am, but you like me just the same.”
I’m desperately confused now. “And that’s a bad thing?”
He shakes his head and opens his eyes and stares out at the water. “No, it’s just a bad time. You’re not ready for someone like me. You’re not in a good place.”
That sort of pisses me off and I shrug out of his arms. “Not in a good place? My mother just died. I’m hardly balancing on the edge or something. People die, and it sucks but it doesn’t mean that I’m a fragile little flower.”
He levels a gaze at me, a look as black as night. “Be that as it may,” he concedes. “You’re still grieving. And we can’t begin something beautiful when there is still so much ugliness around us.”
I’m stunned and sad and silent as I stare away from him, out toward the opposite side of the boat. So he likes me, but he can’t be with me. What the hell kind of thing is this?
After a minute, he turns my chin with his thumb, making me look at him.
I don’t want to, but then again, I do. Because even when he’s infuriating, he’s beautiful.
“Ask me what my question is,” he instructs me.
I lift my chin.
No.
“Go on,” he urges. “Ask me.”
I want to know. I want to know why he wanted me out here in the middle of the water so he could ask it. I want to know what it is. I want to know what it could possibly be. So I ask.
“What is your question?”
He smiles and I swear it’s brighter than the sun.
“Calla, I want you.”
I suck in my breath at that. I wait and wait and wait for a question, all while his eyes penetrate my soul.
“I wake up in the night wanting you. I dream about you. But right now, you’re tied up in a lot of painful, hard things. I need to make sure that you’re not just drawn to me because you’re confused. I want to make sure that you really want me. I’m willing to be patient and find out. So my question is, can you be patient and wait, too?”
He wants to be with me? That’s all I can think of and never mind that he wants to wait until my mind is clear. Of course I’ll wait.
I start to nod and to ask how long, but he continues.
“Can you wait, no matter what happens in the meantime?”
I pause because what a strange thing to say. I must look as puzzled as I feel because Dare reaches out a finger and touches my lips.
“Don’t ask, because I can’t tell you right now. Everyone has secrets, Calla, even me. But can you wait until we have a fair shot, despite the secrets?”
God, I’m tired of secrets.
But God, I want Dare even more.
“On one condition,” I find myself saying. Dare lifts his head, surprised.
“And that is?”
“I don’t have a lot of experience with guys like you,” I tell him. Or guys, period. “But I want you. You’re all I think about.”
Dare’s lips curve. “I feel the same way.”
“So I don’t know how you can ask me to wait. I only have the summer, Dare. And then I’m leaving for college.” I pause and my heart flutters. “But if it’s important to you, I’ll wait for a little while. A very little while. But only if you do one thing for me.”
He waits, his dark gaze pensive.
“Give me a reason.”
The words are out before I can re-think them and take them back.
Realization clouds his eyes and before I can blink, I’m in his arms again, pulled to his chest and his mouth is ravaging my own. His lips, strong, yet soft, close over mine, pillaging them, bruising them, caressing them.
Kissing him is everything I thought it would be.
I sigh into his mouth and he inhales it as he inhales me. His hands trace the outline of my shoulder-blades, and then skim my back, down to my hips. They feel just as I’d imagined, strong, yet gentle.
He rocks me into him, and my hips meet a sudden rigidity, his very apparent desire for me. I’m taken aback by the hardness. But then it fuels the burning I feel, the burning that races along my veins, pumping through my heart. I burn because he’s hard for me.
He wants me.
My tongue twirls around his, before I nip at his lips. He groans as I press tighter against him, wedging myself between his legs, stealing his breath. His hands come up, toward my breasts, grazing my hardened nipples with his thumbs. He lingers there, for a moment, turning my points into pebbles as he nuzzles the softness of my neck, his lips blazing a trail.
Finally, he yanks away, his breathing ragged, as though he’s been burned. And I suppose he has. So have I. The chemistry between us is lightning hot.
He holds me at arm’s length as he regains his composure.
Then he looks at me and grins the most devilish grin.
“Did that do the trick?”
His question is light and playful, but the meaning really isn’t.
Because what he’s really asking is… is that enough for now? Is it enough to hold me over? Enough to make me wait?
And the answer is…I don’t know.
I don’t know because if he’s waiting until the worst of my grief is over, he could be waiting a while. Grief is an unpredictable thing, and honestly, I don’t think it ever really goes away. I think we just learn to manage it.
And maybe that’s really what he’s waiting for. For me to manage it… my grief, my life, Finn. There’s a lot there to manage. A lot of obstacles.
But as I stare at him, at the way the light turns his dark eyes to amber, at the way the sunshine bathes him in a golden glow and the connection between us sizzles hot and dangerous, I know one thing.
He’s worth the wait.
Despite our secrets.
Or maybe even because of them.