I still. I didn’t know. And I don’t care. “Ok.” I don’t know what else to say.
She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at me as she says, “I just wanted to be sure you know in case that’s why you’re hesitating so much.”
“Ok.” I pry her hands from my chest and roll away from her. She taps my shoulder and I look at her.
“It’s not like I’ve been with a lot of guys or anything.” She hesitates.
“I didn’t ask.” I smile at her in encouragement. But I’m sort of reeling from her declaration. I look into her eyes. “Did you ever do it with someone you were in love with?” I drag my crooked finger down the line of her jaw.
“Not yet,” she says.
I can’t bite back my smile. “Good.” Neither have I.
My dick is so hard that I have to shove it down into my jeans. I turn away from her long enough to do it and zip.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To toss the football with Sam.”
She throws the covers off and her face lights up. “Can I go?”
I stop. “You want to go toss a football in the park?”
She nods enthusiastically, her eyes shining. “There are a lot of things I can’t do. But football isn’t one of them.”
“You play football?”
“Played,” she clarifies. She takes on a strong man pose. “Four years with the pee wee league.”
I laugh. “Get dressed. You can come with me.”
She jerks on a pair of jeans and lifts her hair into a messy pony tail. Damn, she’s pretty. She picks up her bra, turns her back to me and hides her arms in the shirt, adjusting the bra beneath the fabric. Within seconds, she’s ready to go. She slides on her boots and nods. “Ready?” she asks. “You look like you’ve never seen a woman get dressed quickly.”
“I’ve never woken up with a woman,” I say. She stops moving and stares at me. “So, no, I’ve never watched one get dressed to start the day.” It’s usually a quick shrug into clothing after I kick someone out of my bed. Correction – after I make her come and then kick her out of my bed. But one day soon, I hope to watch her get dressed without holding the shirt over the best parts. “It seems really intimate, and I’ve never paid attention to anyone getting dressed after getting out of my bed.” I shrug. “I like it.”
“I’m your first,” she teases, her face going soft.
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. “You’re my first,” I say, walking toward her. She thinks I’m going to squeeze her into a hug, and she leans into me. But I jerk her into the crook of my arm and give her a noogie instead. “That’s for messing with me,” I growl.
She jerks back, running her hand over her hair. She bends and takes her toothbrush from her bag.
“We don’t have time for tooth brushing, woman,” I say. “It’s time for football.”
“I am not leaving here without brushing my teeth,” she says pertly. Then she signs the word no.
I point her toward the bathroom and smack her ass. She jumps and turns back to me, walking backward. She shakes her finger at me and I chase her into the bathroom. She brushes her teeth standing two feet away from me while I brush mine. I imagine her humming, and I find that I’m right when I place my hand on her throat. “Don’t stop,” I say.
She mouths something at me, but her mouth is full of toothpaste and I have no idea what she’s saying.
“Don’t stop humming,” I say.
“Why do you care?” she asks after she spits. “You can’t hear it.”
“You look happy when you do it. So, don’t stop.”
She freezes, nods at me and rinses her mouth. I do the same. I grab her by the belt loops and tug her to me. “Is it safe to kiss you now?” I ask.
“Unless you want to be late,” she warns, but she’s smiling and she’s already threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck.
I slam the bathroom door shut. “Let’s be late,” I say.
Emily
Sam is irked because we’re running later than he’d planned. I can’t say I blame him. But when Logan kisses me, I can’t think about anything but him. He always calls for the stop before I do. I can’t figure out what to do about that, aside from giving him time to trust me. We just met a few days ago, but I feel like I’ve known him my whole life. He’s kind, considerate, and he doesn’t treat me like I’m somehow lacking because of my dyslexia. He doesn’t seem to care.
Ahead of us, Hayley walks alongside Paul, her fist clutching his index finger. She’s dressed warmly in a pink coat that has fur around the hood. She’s adorable. Paul looks at her like she hung the moon and stars in the sky. Sam and Pete walk side by side in front of them, and they stop to shove one another across the sidewalk every few seconds. Logan tosses a ball in the air as we walk together. I bite back a shiver.
He makes the sign for cold, asking me with his brows raised if I am. I show him my fingers about an inch apart. He hands me the ball, unzips his hoodie and puts it around my shoulders. I pass the ball back to him, tug the hoodie more tightly around myself, and slide my arms into it, and zip it up to my chin. I lift it and sniff. It smells like him.
Why he asks in sign, then he mimes my sniff. Why did I smell it? I know the sign for why, and my heart thrills that I do.
I don’t know how to sign the words, so I say, “Smells like you. I like it.” I shrug my shoulders. I turn around backward and walk facing him because I’m sure it’s hard for him to read my lips from the side. He holds a hand in warning. He shakes his head.
No need, he signs. He mouths the words while he does it, so I get it.
“Don’t let me run into anything,” I warn. I like looking at him. Apparently, a lot of other women do, too. His arms are nak*d, his t shirt straining across his shoulders. You can see his tattoos, which go all the way to his hairline on the back of his neck. He attracts a lot of attention. “Women really love you, don’t they?” I ask. He’s drawn more than one pair of eyes, from the teenagers to the cougars. They all stop to stare as he walks past. And having his brothers with him doesn’t help any. They’re a good looking group of boys.
He shrugs, looking sort of put out by my question.
When we get to the park, Matt goes and sits on a bench and I drop down beside him. Logan goes with Sam and Pete to toss the ball around. Paul chases Hayley over to the swings. “How are you feeling?” I ask of Matt.
“Fine,” he says quickly. He doesn’t elaborate.
“You don’t look fine,” I blurt out. I can’t help it. He doesn’t.
“Thanks,” he says, his voice droll. “I love to hear how bad I look from beautiful girls.” He nods. “Appreciate it.”
“Why didn’t you stay home to rest?”
“Honestly?” he asks, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He’s leaning forward so that his elbows rest on his knees. He plucks a blade of grass.
“No, lie to me,” I respond. Then I roll my eyes.
He chuckles. “I don’t know how many more moments I’ll have to do this. I want to suck every bit of life from the moments I have.”
Tears prick at the backs of my lashes. “Are you afraid?” I ask quietly.
“Only every f**king day,” he says on a heavy sigh.
“Oh.” I don’t know what else I can say. “What’s your prognosis?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m being so nosy. I just want to know what Logan will be up against. And Matt. But mainly for Logan. I might be able to do something to cushion his blow.
“Don’t know. I go back in two weeks and they’ll tell me if the chemo worked.”
I nod. What can you say to that? Hope it’s good news. Hope you’re going to live. Oh, you’re going to be just fine. None of those seem appropriate.
He turns so that his knee is facing me, his arm lying along the back of the bench. “I’ve been trying to plan. For when I’m gone.”
Shoot. What should I say to that? “That’s smart.” I’m an idiot.
“I have letters for all my brothers. I already wrote them.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing all day?”
He nods, playing with the piece of grass, rolling it between his fingers.
“They’ll appreciate them if anything ever happens to you.”
“When something happens to me,” he says, correcting me. “It’s just a matter of how long I have at this point, I think. I can feel it.”
I cover my hand with his on the back of the bench, and give it a squeeze. “Is there anything at all I can do for you? Anything to help you plan?”
He looks at me, hard. His green eyes bore into mine. “If you’re still around when it’s time, can I give you the letters? To share with them when I’m gone?”
“I’ll still be around,” I say. I’m not going anywhere. Not any time soon. “And yes, I can take your letters. Just tell me how and when you want them delivered.”
He nods. “I have one for this girl, too. April is her name. Logan will be able to find her. But he won’t give her a letter from me. He sort of hates her.”
“She probably deserves it,” I mumble.
He chuckles. “You don’t get to pick who you fall in love with.” He sits silent for a minute. Then he says, “Don’t let them put me on the mantel or anything,” he says. “I f**king hate the idea of being stuffed in an urn.”
“What would you want them to do with your ashes, if they could?” I kick at a rock that’s near my toe.
“I don’t give a fuck, as long as I’m not stuck on the mantelpiece.” He chuckles.
“Don’t give up yet, all right?” I ask.
He nods. “I’m fighting ‘til the day I die. But there are things I need to plan for.”
I nod. I understand.
Logan walks over and stands in front of me. He signs something. The only sign I recognize is the word girl.
“No, I’m not putting the moves on your girl,” Matt complains. Then he laughs. “She’s putting the moves on me.”
Logan turns to me, his mouth hanging open wide. But his eyes dance with laughter. He pulls on my hands until I stand up. Then he bends and tosses me over his shoulder and spins in a circle. I scream, covering my eyes. I know he won’t drop me, but still.
He runs around, and Sam and Pete chase us. Pete -- or Sam – I still can’t tell them apart – slaps my butt. I flail around, trying to reach out and grab him, but Logan is running with me over his shoulder. He spins, holding tightly to my legs. I cover my eyes and squeal, but I know he can’t hear me.
I hit Logan on the butt, but he pays me no mind. Suddenly, he stops and starts to lower me down his body. I slide down him slowly, my body contours rubbing against his until my feet hit the ground. “Hi,” he says quietly. He signs it, too, but his free arm is around me holding me against him.