3.
the honeymoon
“I LOVE HEARING this,” she says, grinning next to me on the bed. “So you thought I was cute, huh?”
“No, I didn’t think you were cute. I thought you were absolutely beautiful,” I correct her. I brush the hair out of her face and she leans into my hand and kisses my palm. “What did you think about me?” I ask.
She smiles. “I tried not to. I was attracted to you, but I had so much going on and we’d been in Michigan all of five minutes when we met. Circumstances just kept bringing us back together, though. Every minute I was around you, I just fell harder and harder in crush with you.”
“In crush?” I laugh.
She grins. “I was so in crush with you, Will. Especially after you helped me with the bandage. And after our trip to the grocery store.”
“I’d have to say we were both in crush after that trip.”
crush
I ATTEMPT TO go over my lesson plans for the next week but I can’t even concentrate. I try to pinpoint exactly what it is about her that completely consumes my mind, but I can’t figure it out. After the incident with the bandage this morning, she was all that went through my head at work. I wish she would just do or say something stupid so this hold she has on me would break. It’s weird.
I’ve never been so consumed by the thought of someone in my entire life. This is the last thing I need right now, but somehow it’s the only thing I want.
Caulder bursts through the front door, laughing. He slips his shoes off and walks across the living room shaking his head. “That Darth Vader girl asked me how to get to the grocery store,” he says. “I don’t know how to drive. She’s so dumb.” He walks to the refrigerator and opens it.
I stand up. “Is she still out there?” I rush to the front door and see her Jeep parked in the street. I quickly pull my shoes on, then run outside before she drives away. I’m relieved when I see her fiddling with the GPS. It’ll buy me some time.
I wonder if she would care if I went with her to the store.
Of course she would. That would be awkward.
“That’s not a good idea,” I say as I approach her car, then lean through the window.
She glances up at me, a smile hiding in the corners of her mouth. “What’s not a good idea?” She begins to insert the GPS into its holder.
Shit. What’s not a good idea? I didn’t think this through. I say the first lie that pops into my head. “There’s quite a bit of construction going on right now. That thing will get you lost.”
Just as she opens her mouth to respond, a car pulls up beside her and a woman leans over the seat and speaks to Layken through the window. This has got to be her mother; they’re practically identical. Same accent and everything.
I continue to lean through the window, using her distraction as an opportunity to study her. Her hair is a deep brown, but not as dark as her mother’s. Her nail polish is chipped. It looks like she picks at it, which somehow makes me like her even more. Vaughn never left the house unless her hair and nails were perfect.
Kel jumps out of the other car and invites Caulder, who is now standing next to me, over. Caulder asks if he can go, so I grab the handle of Layken’s car door without worrying about possible consequences. The hell with it.
“Sure,” I reply to him. “I’ll be back in a little while, Caulder. I’m riding with Layken to the store.” I open her door and climb inside without second-guessing my actions. She shoots me a look, but it seems more like an amused one than an irritated one. I take this as another good sign. “I don’t give very good verbal directions. Mind if I go with you?”
She laughs and puts the car into gear, glancing at the seat belt I’ve already fastened. “I guess not.”
The closest grocery store is only two blocks away. That’s not nearly enough time with her, so I decide to take her the long way. It’ll give me more of a chance to get to know her.
“So, Caulder is your little brother’s name?” she asks as she turns off our street. I like how she says Caulder’s name, drawing out the Caul a little bit more than necessary.
“One and only. My parents tried to have another baby for years. They eventually had Caulder, when names like Will weren’t that cool anymore.”
“I like your name,” she says. She smiles at me and her cheeks redden, then she quickly darts her eyes back to the road.
Her embarrassment makes me laugh. Was that a compliment? Did she just flirt with me? God, I hope so.
I instruct her to turn left. She flips the blinker on, then brings her hand up to her hair, running her fingers through it all the way down to the ends; an action that causes me to gulp. When both of her hands are on the steering wheel again, I reach over and brush her hair behind her shoulders, then pull back the collar of her shirt.
I look at her bandage, wanting her to believe this is the reason I’m touching her, when really I just needed to feel her hair. When my fingers graze her skin, she flinches. It seems like I make her nervous. I’m hoping it’s in a good way. “You’re going to need a new bandage soon,” I say. I pull her shirt back up and pat it.
“Remind me to grab some at the store,” she says. She grips the steering wheel tightly and keeps her eyes focused on the road. She’s probably not used to driving in the snow. I should have offered to drive.
The next few moments are quiet. I catch myself staring at her, deep in thought. I wonder how old she is. She doesn’t look older than me, but it would suck if she is. Sometimes girls don’t date guys that are younger than them. I should really find out more about her.
“So, Layken,” I say casually. I place my hand on her headrest and glance behind me at all the boxes still in the back of the Jeep. “Tell me about yourself.”
She cocks an eyebrow at me, then turns her attention back to the road. “Um, no. That’s so cliché.”
Her unexpected response makes me laugh under my breath. She’s feisty. I like that, but it still doesn’t answer any of my questions. I glance to her CD player and lean forward. “Fine. I’ll figure you out myself,” I say as I hit eject. “You know, you can tell a lot about a person by their taste in music.” I pull the CD out of the player and hold my breath as I prepare to read it. Please don’t let her be into Nickelback. I would have to jump out of the car. When I read the handwritten label, I laugh. “Layken’s shit? Is shit descriptive here, or possessive?”
She snatches the CD out of my hands and inserts it back into the player. “I don’t like Kel touching my shit, okay?”
And that’s when it happens . . . the most beautiful sound in the world. Sure, the song is beautiful. All Avett Brothers songs are beautiful. But the sound I’m hearing is the sound of commonality. The sound of similarity. The sound of my favorite band that I’ve been listening to nonstop for two years . . . coming from her speakers.
What are the chances?
She immediately leans forward and turns down the volume. I unconsciously grab her hand to stop her. “Turn it back up, I know this.”
She smirks at me like there isn’t a shred of truth to what I just said. “Oh, yeah? What’s it called?” she challenges.
“It’s the Avett Brothers,” I say. She arches her eyebrow and looks at me inquisitively as I explain the song. The fact that she apparently loves this band as much as I do stimulates a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that I haven’t felt in years.
Good lord, I’ve got butterflies.
She glances down at my hand still clasped on top of hers. I pull my hand back and run it down my pants, hoping it didn’t make her uncomfortable. I’m almost positive she’s blushing again, though. That’s a good sign. That’s a really good sign.
The entire rest of the way to the grocery store, she tells me all about her family. She mostly talks about the recent death of her father and her birthday gift from him. She continues talking about her father and everything her family has been through this year. It explains that distant look she gets in her eyes sometimes. I can’t help but feel somewhat connected with her, knowing she can relate on some level with what I’ve been through the last few years. I tense up at the thought of having to tell her about my parents right now.
I can feel the conversation on her end coming to a close, so I point her in the actual direction of the grocery store, hoping it will deflect the parental subject before it becomes my turn to share. When we pull into the parking lot, I’m both relieved and anxious. Relieved that I didn’t have to explain my situation with Caulder to her, but anxious at the thought that I know the conversation is inevitable. I just don’t want to scare her off yet.
“Wow,” she says. “Is that the quickest way to the store? That drive took twenty minutes.”
I swing the door open and wink at her. “No, actually it’s not.” I step out of the car, impressed with myself. It’s been so long since I’ve been into a girl, I wasn’t sure if I still had any game. She’s got to realize I’m flirting with her. I like her. She seems to like me, but she’s not as forward as I am, so I’m not sure. I’m definitely not one to play games, so I decide to just go with it. I grab her hand, tell her to run, and pull her faster toward the entrance. I do this partly because we’re getting soaked, but mostly because I just wanted an excuse to grab her hand again.
When we get inside she’s soaking wet and laughing. It’s the first time I’ve really heard her laugh. I like her laugh.
There’s a strand of wet hair stuck to her cheek, so I reach up and wipe it away. As soon as my fingers touch her skin, her eyes lock with mine and she stops laughing.
Damn, those eyes. I continue to stare at her, unable to look away. She’s beautiful. So damn beautiful.
She breaks our stare and clears her throat. Her reaction is somewhat guarded, like I may have made her feel uncomfortable. She hands me the grocery list and grabs a cart. “Does it always snow in September?” she asks.
We just had a seriously intense, slightly awkward moment . . . and she’s asking me about the weather? I laugh.
“No, it won’t last more than a few days, maybe a week. Most of the time the snow doesn’t start until late October. You’re lucky.”
She looks at me. “Lucky?”
“Yeah. It’s a pretty rare cold front. You got here right in time.”
“Huh. I assumed most of y’all would hate the snow. Doesn’t it snow here most of the year?”
It’s official. The southern accent is my absolute favorite now. “Y’all?” I laugh.
“What?” she says defensively.
I shake my head and smile. “Nothing. I’ve just never heard anyone say ‘y’all’ in real life before. It’s cute. So southern belle.”
She laughs at my comment. “Oh, I’m sorry. From now on I’ll do like you Yankees and waste my breath by saying ‘all you guys.’ ”
“Don’t,” I say, nudging her shoulder. “I like your accent, it’s perfect.”
She blushes again, but doesn’t look away. I look down at the grocery list and pretend to read it, but I can’t help but notice she’s staring at me. Intensely staring. Almost like she’s trying to figure me out or something.
She eventually turns her head and I steer her in the direction of the foods on her list.
“Lucky Charms?” I say, eyeing her as she grabs three huge boxes of the cereal. “Is that Kel’s favorite?”
She grins at me. “No, actually it’s mine.”
“I’m more of a Rice Krispies fan myself.” I take the boxes of cereal from her and throw them into the cart.
“Rice Krispies are boring,” she says.
“The hell they are! Rice Krispies make Rice Krispies treats. What can your cereal do?”
“Lucky Charms have shooting star marshmallows in them. You get to make a wish every time you eat one.”
“Oh, yeah?” I laugh. “And what are you gonna wish for? You’ve got three boxes, that’s a lot of wishes.”
She folds her arms across the handle of the cart and leans forward while she pushes it. She gets that same distant look in her eyes again. “I’d wish I could be back in Texas,” she says quietly.
The sadness in her answer makes me want to hug her. I don’t know what it is about Michigan that makes her feel this way. I just have an overwhelming need to console her. “What do you miss so much about Texas?”
“Everything,” she says. “The lack of snow, the lack of concrete, the lack of people, the lack of . . .” She pauses. “The lack of unfamiliarity.”
“Boyfriend?”
I say it without even thinking. It’s like I lose my filter when I’m around her. She shoots me a look of confusion, almost as though she doesn’t want to misinterpret my question.
“You miss your boyfriend?” I clarify.
She smiles at me, erasing the troubled look that consumed her features just seconds ago. “No boyfriend,” she says.
I smile back at her. Nice.
I DECIDE TO take her the quick route home. I would have taken her the long way again, just to spend more time with her, but I figure she actually needs to know how to get to the grocery store in the event I can’t invite myself along on the next trip. When we pull into her driveway I hop out and make my way around to the rear of the Jeep. When she pops the hood, I pull it open and watch as she gathers her things together. It surprises me how disappointed I am that we’re about to part ways again. I hate the thought that once these groceries are unloaded, I’m going to have to go back home. I want to spend more time with her.
When she meets me at the back of the Jeep, she smiles and places her hand over her heart. “Why! I never would have been able to find the store without your help. Thank you so much for your hospitality, kind sir.”
Oh.
My.
God.
That is the hottest damn southern impression I’ve ever heard. And that smile. And that nervous laughter. Everything she does pierces my heart. It’s all I can do to stop myself from grabbing her face and kissing the hell out of her right here and now. Looking down at her, watching her laugh . . . God, I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl so bad in my entire life.
“What?” she says nervously. She can obviously see the internal struggle behind my expression.
Don’t do it, Will.
I ignore my better judgment and step forward. Her eyes remain locked on mine as I cup her chin with my free hand. My bold move causes a small gasp to pass between her lips, but she makes no move to pull away. Her skin is soft beneath my fingertips. I bet her lips are even softer.
My eyes scroll over her features, admiring their beautiful simplicity. She doesn’t shy away. In fact, she looks a little bit hopeful, like she would welcome my lips on hers.
Don’t kiss her. Don’t do it. You’ll screw this up, Will.
I attempt to silence the voice in my head, but it ultimately wins out. It’s way too soon. And it’s broad daylight. Her mother’s home, for Christ’s sake! What am I thinking?
I slide my hand around to the back of her neck, then kiss her on her forehead, instead. I take a step back and reluctantly drop my hand. I have to remind myself to breathe. Being this close to her is suffocating, but in the best way.
“You’re so cute,” I say, attempting to make light of the moment. I grab a few sacks out of the back of the Jeep and quickly head to the front door before she comes to her senses and punches me. I can’t believe I just kissed her on the forehead! I’ve only known the girl for two days!
I set the bags down and head back to the Jeep just as her mother makes her way outside.
I feel nothing but relieved over my decision not to kiss her when I realize we would have been interrupted. A humiliating thought.
I reach my hand out to introduce myself. “You must be Layken and Kel’s mom. I’m Will Cooper. We live across the street.”
She smiles a welcoming smile. She seems nice; not intimidating at all. It’s amazing how much Layken looks like her.
“Julia Cohen,” she says. “You’re Caulder’s older brother?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Older by twelve years.”
She stares at me for a moment. “So that makes you . . . twenty-one?”
I’m not sure, because it happens so fast, but I could swear she glances behind me and winks at Layken. She returns her focus back in my direction and smiles again.
“Well, I’m glad Kel and Lake were able to make friends so fast,” she says.
“Me, too.”
Julia releases my hand and turns toward the house, grabbing the sacks in the entryway.
Lake. She calls her Lake. I might like that even more than Layken. I reach in and grab the last two sacks out of the back of her Jeep.
“Lake, huh? I like that.” I hand her the sacks and shut the back. “So, Lake,” I say, leaning against her car. I fold my arms across my chest and take a deep breath. This part is always the hardest. The “asking out” part.
“Caulder and I are going to Detroit on Friday. We’ll be gone until late Sunday, family stuff,” I say. “I was wondering if you had any plans for tomorrow night, before I go?”
She grins at me, then makes a face like she’s trying to stifle the grin. I wish she wouldn’t do that. Her smile is breathtaking.
“Are you really going to make me admit that I have absolutely no life here?” she says.
That wasn’t a no, so I take it as a yes. “Great. It’s a date then. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.” I immediately turn and head back to my house before she can object. I didn’t officially ask her out. In fact, it was more like I just told her. But . . . she sure didn’t object. That’s a good sign. That’s a really good sign.