Pete
One minute, the dog is in my lap, and the next Reagan is heading toward it. She’s so f*cking pretty as she crawls across the couch that she takes my breath away. One palm lands on my knee and the other on my thigh. She bites her lower lip between her teeth as she looks up at me. I brush her hair back from her forehead and look at her. I really look at her. She’s trembling. Her hand shakes against my knee, so I cover it with mine. Her eyes meet mine. “I’m all right,” she whispers.
“I know you are,” I say, and I slowly and gently pick her up and flip her over so that her bottom is in my lap, and her legs lie toward the empty end of her futon. I try not to move too fast because this is all so new to her and I know it. “I think I’m the one who’s scared,” I admit, my voice quavering. I clear my throat.
Her brow furrows. “Why?” she whispers. She lays her forearm on my shoulder, and her fingers absently tickle the hair at the back of my neck. I can’t even think when she touches me.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” I say.
Her face flushes, and I can tell she took that the wrong way. A laugh bursts from my throat. “I meant come across the couch toward me, doofy,” I say, and I reach up to tweak her nose. I lean toward her and kiss her quickly on the cheek. “Although,” I say. I have to stop and clear my throat again. I drop my voice down to a whisper. “When you came with my hand in your panties, that surprised me, too.”
Her breaths aren’t falling naturally now. They’re a little more hurried, and her cheeks are all rosy. I run my hand up the outside of her thigh, all the way up her leg because she’s wearing those crazy-tiny little shorty-shorts. “How do you think I felt?” she asks. She laughs, and it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. I can feel her words against my cheek, she’s that close to me. They’re hot and humid and all Reagan.
I jostle her in my lap with a bump of my knee. “Tell me how you felt,” I prompt. I want to know everything.
Her brow arches. “You mean, when we were doing that?” she asks.
I nod and slide my hand around the top of her thigh, tracing the line of those shorts, which really means that I’m tracing the crease of her inner thigh. Her legs part ever so slightly, and my heart thrills at the way she responds to me.
She hesitates for no more than second. Then she starts to talk. “I was angry,” she says. “Chase was an ass all night long, and then he touched me and I actually thought about walking away from him, but he was so damn smug. It wasn’t completely a knee-jerk reaction when I hit him. It was me being pissed off and hitting him just because I could. Just because he deserved it. Then I stole his car and came home, and he showed up. But then you were there. I knew you were there in the bushes. And I knew you’d seen me come home with my clothes all messed up, and I was afraid you’d think the worst.”
“The worst?” I ask. Her legs part a little farther, and her mouth opens on a heavy sigh as I trace her inner thigh. I want to pull her shorts off and drag her panties down her legs. Then I want to touch my mouth to all of her wet girly parts and lick her until she comes on my face. But her parents are downstairs.
“You were afraid I’d kissed him?” she asks.
I don’t respond because I’m too busy sliding my fingers beneath her shorts to trace the line of her panties. “Uh huh,” I mutter.
“I thought about it,” she says. “I kind of wanted to get it over and done with.”
I look up. Did she really just say that? “Over and done with?” I ask.
She winces. “You make me feel these…feelings, Pete. And I don’t know what to do with them all or where they came from. And that scares the crap out of me, that I can be like this with you without even having to calm myself down or work to push my feelings into the corner of my mind. So, I kind of wanted to test it with Chase. But when he touched me, I didn’t feel anything.”
“Did he scare you?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. He was an ass. And I knew it before I went out with him. But then he grazed my boob, and my skin began to crawl. It wasn’t like when you touch me at all. So it made me think. It made me want to come back here to you. But I figured I should probably finish out the night. But then he touched my boob again and laughed about it, and I hit him. It wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction. I meant to hit him.” She winces again. “I feel kind of bad about that.”
I just realized I stopped tracing her panties when she started to talk about this, and I look into her eyes. “So you didn’t freak out. You hit him on purpose?” She has no idea how f*cking happy this makes me.
“Yeah,” she admits. But she’s not smiling. She’s laboring over this a little. “But then you came into the barn and asked me if I kissed him. I couldn’t lie to you.” She turns my face to hers and looks into my eyes. “You’re the only one I want to kiss, Pete. You’re the only one I want to be with. You’re the only one I want to hold me and touch me.” She waves a hand in front of her face like a fan. “God, it’s getting hot in here,” she says.
I pick Reagan up again, and her eyes go wide when I lay her down on the futon. I part her knees ever so slowly and run my hands up the inside of her thighs, one on each side, spreading her open so that I can lie down on top of her.
When I settle into the warmth of her, I realize she’s trembling again. “This okay?” I ask as I brace myself on my elbows, my head just below her chin.
“Yeah,” she breathes. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down to her chest, where I lay my head on her boobs. I turn my face and nuzzle into her and realize the crest of her breast has to be directly beside my mouth. Her hands sift through the short hair on my head, her fingertips playful and light. “So, last night,” she says. She waits. I lift my head so I can look into her face. She has her lower lip caught tightly between her teeth, and then she rushes to say on an exhale, “I really liked what we did last night.”
I chuckle. “I could tell.” God, I feel so light and so heavy at the same time. I rock my hips against her and her bottom lifts, pushing her soft, warm, probably pink and pretty parts toward my dick. Shit. “I did, too.”
She tugs my hair until I look into her face again. “Is this too fast?” she whispers.
I look down toward where my dick is only separated from her warmth by my jeans and those tiny little things she calls shorts. “I still have my pants on. I promise.”
She groans. “I’m not talking about that.” She gestures from me to her and back. “Me and you. Is this going too fast?” she asks.
My breath hitches. “I don’t know,” I say. “Is it too fast for you?”
She shakes her head. “We just met a few days ago.” Like she has to remind me.
Then why does it feel like my heart has been waiting for her forever? “Mmm hmm,” I hum, as I scooch myself up a little so my lips can touch hers. She kisses me back, her mouth soft and insistent against mine. I pull back, and she grins. “What?” I ask, her smile contagious as I feel my own tug at the corners of my lips.
“That kiss wasn’t quite as epic as the last one,” she says.
I take her lips again, soft and slow, my tongue sliding into her mouth, my heart rejoicing when hers rasps against mine, all velvet and heat. “We’ll have to work on that,” I reply when I finally lift my head.
She nods. Her mouth is close to my ear when she says, “I want it to be as epic for you as it was for me.” A shiver runs up my spine, and I rock my hips, pushing against her heat. I can’t help myself. Shit. “Would you let me do that for you?” she asks.
She looks so unsure of herself that I can tell this is hard for her. She doesn’t like asking. And she wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important to her. “Not with your parents downstairs,” I murmur.
“I don’t mean now,” she says with a blow of her breath.
“Oh.” Wishful thinking and all that.
She laughs. “Another time?” she asks. “When my parents aren’t within thirty feet of us?”
I nod. Shit. What did I just get myself into?
I hear a door slam nearby, and I lift myself off her. She closes her legs and sits up, pulling my sweatshirt down around her hips. But all I can think about is how soft her skin feels under my fingertips and how much I want to touch her. But there are footsteps coming up the stairs. I call the dog, and she hops up into my lap. Thank God.
The whisper of footsteps against the carpet is the only warning before her dad stops in her doorway. “What are you doing?” he barks. His eyes land on me, and then on the dog, and then he meets my gaze. I smile at him. But I have to break eye contact after a moment. I was just on top of his daughter, after all.
“Talking,” Reagan chirps. She scratches the back of her head. “Did you need something?”
“Your mom and I are going to rent a movie. Do you want to watch it?”
“Can Pete come?” she asks. He glares at me, and I focus all my attention on the dog.
He nods. “If he must,” he says drolly. I have to admit it—if I had a dad, I’d want him to act just like Mr. Caster. I’d want him to try to protect me over all else and care about me more than anything. I don’t have that, at least not from a dad. I have it from my brothers. But it’s not the same.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Reagan asks quietly. But she’s smiling. I notice she doesn’t get up.
I nod. “Sure.”
She looks at her dad. “Ten minutes?” she asks.
He nods, glares at me for a second longer, and then leaves. “Your dad is pretty awesome, you know that?” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes.
“If I had a dad, I would want him to act just like that.” I avoid her gaze this time. Because I don’t want her to see too much. She already sees enough.
“Your brother, the one you don’t talk to,” she starts. “Does he have a phone in his dorm?”
I nod. He has a cell phone that Paul got for him since he was going away. Paul got one, too. I know Sam’s number by heart, even though I’ve never called it. I have dialed it a million times, and then I hang up the phone because I’m a chickenshit. She holds her phone out to me. “It’s time to call him, Pete,” she says. Then she picks up a pair of jeans, pulls them up her legs while I watch. It’s so f*cking hot watching her dress that I get all turned on again. She bends over and kisses me really quickly. “I’m going to make popcorn. Come downstairs when you’re ready.”
She leaves me and closes the door behind her. I look down at the phone. When I stopped talking to Sam, I felt like I lost a piece of myself. Maybe it’s time to find it. I dial the number and lift the phone to my ear and my heart is beating even faster now than it did when I was on top of Reagan.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
His voicemail picks up. “This is Sam. I’m busy, so leave a message and I’ll call you back if I feel like it.” The beep sounds, and I hesitate. I can’t help it. Then I clear my throat. This is the time for new beginnings. And I can’t find out if he wants one or not unless he’ll talk to me.
“Sam, it’s Pete.” I stop and think, burying my forehead in my hand. “I just wanted to talk to you and be sure you’re doing all right. I miss you, Sam. That’s all. I just miss you.” I heave a sigh. Because I don’t know what else to say. “Sam, do you think you could come home this weekend? I want to see you. I’m on a friend’s phone so you can’t call me back, but I wish you could… I really, really wish you could. I love you, Sam. Just wanted to say that.”
I press the “end” button and stare at the phone. I pretty much bungled that. But I feel lighter now. I’m glad I called him. I miss him. Like crazy.
I tuck Reagan’s phone in my pocket and go downstairs. I find her in the kitchen pouring popcorn into a bowl. She throws a piece at me when I get close, and I catch it in my mouth. She laughs and hitches her hip against the counter. “Did you make your call?” she asks.
Her phone buzzes in my pocket. “I think you’re getting a text,” I say as I pass it back to her. I want to be nosy and look down at it. She glances at it and grins.
“I think it’s for you,” she says. “Is that the number you called?” She shows me the screen. It’s Sam’s number, and he just wrote:
I love you better.
I grin. “Yeah. That’s Sam.”
“Sam?” she asks. Her brow furrows. She points to the back of her neck. “The Sam on your neck? That’s for your brother?”
“Yeah. Our dad put the tattoos on us because he never could tell us apart.”
She frowns. “Then why does yours say Sam?”
I grin and shrug. “He couldn’t tell us apart, so when he sat Sam down for his tattoo, he said he was Pete, and I said I was Sam. So, we have each other’s names on our necks.”
“He couldn’t tell you guys apart?” She’s not laughing anymore, and she looks kind of sad.
I shake my head. “We’re twins. Identical.”
“Wow,” she says.
“Our mom was so mad,” I say with a laugh.
“Could she tell you two apart?” she asks.
I shrug. “Anyone who knows us can.” That doesn’t speak very well of our dad, but it is what it is.
I pull her to me by the belt loops on her jeans, and she falls into me. Her arms lift to wrap around my neck. I kiss her quickly.
But her dad yells out, “Pete, when you’re done having sex with my daughter in the kitchen, the movie’s ready!”
Reagan laughs.
“Even I’m not that quick,” I whisper to her. She blushes again. I kiss her forehead. “Thanks for letting me use your phone,” I say.
She nods and takes me by the hand, her other holding the popcorn. I sit down on the edge of the sofa, and she settles down next to me, close but not touching. Her dad glares at us from where her mom is draped against his side on the opposite couch. “Nice to see you, Pete,” he says.
“You too, Mr. Caster,” I say. “Thanks for inviting me.”
I spread my thighs a little so Reagan’s leg is touching mine, and she squeezes my hand as the movie starts. Damn, that feels good. Tomorrow is Friday, and tomorrow night is when I go home. I don’t want to go. I want to stay by her side forever. Just like this.
Reagan
Today’s the day that Pete goes home. I stayed up most of the night last night thinking about it. I don’t want him to leave. My gut clenches at the thought of it, and I stare across the table at my mom.
“Something on your mind?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Not something you want to talk about, huh?” she asks. Her voice is soft, but she’s not prying. She’s just being my mom.
“Pete’s leaving today,” I say quietly.
“Hmm,” she hums.
“So, I was thinking…” I start slowly.
She smiles and tips her head at me like a curious puppy. “What were you thinking?”
“I was actually thinking I might go back to the city a week early,” I say, my voice hesitant and quiet. My classes don’t start until next week.
She lifts her coffee cup to her lips and regards me over the rim of it while she takes a sip. “Does this have anything to do with Pete?” she asks.
I can’t lie to my mom. I’d be really bad at it if I tried. “Only everything.” I grin at her expression. She’s grinning, too, and it’s almost contagious. “I want to go back and spend some time with him.” I shrug. “See where things go.”
“He’s the one, huh?” she asks.
I nod my head. “Yeah, I think so.” My voice is quiet, but I feel lighter than I have in a long time.
“Do you want me to call to see if I can get you in to visit the doctor today?” she asks. Doctor? Why do I need a doctor? “There’s a tiny little matter of birth control,” she says.
“Oh.” I completely forgot about that. Heat creeps up my cheeks. “Do you think you could?” I ask. I wince inward. This is so awkward. But who can you talk to about this stuff if you can’t talk to your mom?
She picks up her phone. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’m going to go upstairs and pack,” I say. I am almost giddy. This is a big decision. I just hope that when we get back to the city, things are the same between Pete and me. What if we go back and real life intrudes? What if the magic is gone? What if he doesn’t like me as much as I like him?
I can’t find my flip-flops, so I go to the top of the stairs to call down to my mom. But she’s talking to my dad. I can hear their voices, soft and hesitant. Then my dad says, “What the f*ck are you thinking, encouraging this?”
I freeze. I shouldn’t even listen in but I can’t help it.
“I’m encouraging her to grow up, honey,” she says. “That’s all.”
“She’s not going back to the city. Not yet. Absolutely not.” I hear some dishes slam, and I wince with every one of them.
“She’s going. She’s packing now.” Mom is quiet but firm.
“Why doesn’t this bother you? She needs her family around her more than she needs some boy.”
My mom steps into my line of vision, and I can see her lay a calming hand on my dad’s chest. “She doesn’t need us for this stage of her life, honey,” she says. “She needs him.”
“Why him?” Dad growls.
“Pete’s a good man,” she says. “You know it.”
Dad growls again, and mom laughs. “I’m not going to like any man who wants to get in my daughter’s pants,” he grumbles.
“Can you see how she’s woken up since he got here, Bob?” she asks. Her voice is firm. “She’s not jumping at shadows, and she’s letting people touch her. She’s laughing. She’s thinking about more than just hiding in her room. She’s living again, Bob. So, knock it off. This is a good thing.” She points her finger at him in warning. “And don’t you say a thing to her about it.”
I go back to my room and finish packing. I feel bad for Dad, but I suddenly am living a hopeful existence. And I like it. I don’t want to change it. I want to chase it all the way to New York so it won’t get away from me. It’s not just Pete I’m chasing after. It’s the promise of a future. That’ll happen with or without him, but I’m hopeful for the first time in a very long time.