Thirteen
I’ve procrastinated long enough.
Hugging the tattered journal to my chest, I smile when thinking about the last entry I read. I certainly wasn’t smiling when writing it, but now, it highlights how mine and Saxon’s relationship has changed. Grown. It also confirms that what Sam and I had was real. And I’m certain we’ll get it back.
Placing the journal onto my nightstand, I kick off the bed and slip into my flats. I smell a lot better than I did a couple of hours ago, as I took a nice long soak in the claw foot tub, and thanks to the journal entry, I’ve donned a floral babydoll dress. My hair is down and slightly wavy, framing my face.
Let’s hope tonight’s dinner will be just as fun as the first time we broke bread.
As I leave my bedroom, I look down the hall, towards Saxon’s room. For some unexplained reason, I go left instead of right. I don’t question it. Just how I don’t question my strange reaction to him earlier. As I reach the closed door, a soft country song can be heard sounding from within. I can’t help but smile. No matter how much of a badass he is, Saxon’s still a country boy at heart.
Knocking softly, I wait, hoping he doesn’t tell me to go away.
He doesn’t. “Come in.”
When I open the door, a small breath catches in my throat, as Saxon is sitting on the bed, topless. An open journal sits in his lap, while Thunder sleeps at the foot of the bed.
“Hey,” he says, while I stand, admiring the picture perfect moment.
Clearing my throat and brain, I reply, “Hey yourself. How’d you know I wasn’t your mom knocking?”
“She wouldn’t knock,” he playfully counters without missing a beat.
Walking into the bedroom, I appreciate the way the sunlight streaming in from the opened window kisses his bronzed skin. “You keep a journal?” I ask, jutting my chin out towards the book in his lap.
He grins, running his left hand though his hair, pen entwined in his fingers. “I could pretend I was doing Sudoku, but you got me.”
I laugh. “I keep a journal, too. I have since I learned how to read and write.”
He whistles. “That’s a lot of words.” Closing the black leather book, he places it on the side dresser. “Do you still write in it?”
Stepping forward, I run my fingers through Thunder’s fur. “Not lately,” I confess. “Those entries are ones I don’t wish to remember.”
I sound completely pathetic, but it’s the truth.
Saxon weighs up my response. “No matter how bad your memories, it’s still your history. It’s your legacy. You should write it down. This way, you can always look back and remember that you survived. You lived.” He sits up tall. “Life isn’t all about happiness and good fortune. In most circumstances, it’s the shitty memories that emphasize the good. Makes you appreciate what you have, and stops you from taking anything for granted.”
“Wow.” I smile, standing on tippy toes to look at the journal. “Are you sure that’s not a philosophy book?”
He grins.
Jokes aside, he’s right. I’ve been frightened to write in my diary because I don’t want to document this time in my life. But Saxon has a point. Sometimes, you’ve got to experience the bad in order to appreciate the good. Like right now.
“So, am I in your diary?” I tease. When his face falls, I know the answer is yes. Just how he’s in mine.
Reaching for a discarded t-shirt which lays by his side, he slips it over his head. “We better go. We wouldn’t want to ruin Kellie’s spectacular dinner plans.”
Although he’s being sarcastic, he’s right.
I’ve been holed up in my room for the afternoon as Kellie insisted she cooked, hinting she didn’t need any help. Sam seemed content talking to his father, catching up on lost time and memories. I only seemed to be the third wheel as he sat with his back to me, asking his father questions which he could have asked me. Once it was made more than obvious that Saxon and I weren’t welcome to join the Stone family reunion, we crept off to our rooms like outcasts, booted off Happiness Island. I now understand how Saxon felt all these years. No wonder he left.
We stroll down the hallway, in no hurry to get there fast.
“I’m sorry, Saxon.”
“You’re sorry?” He curls his lip, confused.
I nod.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t realize how much of an outsider you were within your own home. I was so…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Infatuated with Sam, I didn’t see it. But now, things are becoming clearer.”
Just as we round the corner and enter the kitchen, my point is highlighted. Kellie is doting on Samuel, who is sitting at the counter, sipping ice tea.
“You look so well, Sammy. Before long, you’ll be back on the farm with your father and things can go back to the way they were. The way they’re meant to be.” Her eyes flick up, landing on Saxon. She doesn’t mask her direct tone, suggesting that Saxon isn’t part of those plans.
“Smells good.” I gently touch Saxon’s forearm, encouraging him to move, as he’s rooted to the spot.
He thankfully does.
The dining table is set out like its Thanksgiving, as the table is covered with every food imaginable.
“Wow. You’ve gone to a lot of effort,” I say, avoiding using the term ‘overkill’ to describe her feast.
Kellie places a huge bowl of mac and cheese in the center of the table, beaming when Samuel expresses his delight. “Nothing but the best for my sons.”
Saxon looks at the table before walking over to the fridge. I watch as he pulls out three bottles of beer.
Once Kellie is done dishing up the final plates of food, she takes a seat near Greg, who sits at the head of the table, unfolding his napkin and placing it into his lap. She pats the seat next to her, smiling at Sam. But he surprises me when he takes the seat opposite her. He looks at me, hinting that he wants me to sit beside him. I have no idea why, but I don’t question it.
We all watch as Saxon slouches into the seat next to Kellie, not at all impressed to be sitting beside her. I give him a gentle smile across the table, but all I’m returned with is a stiff upper lip.
“Sam, I’ve made all of your favorites,” Kellie says, standing and indicating she wants his plate.
“I can see that, Mom,” he replies happily, passing her his dish.
As she begins piling mac and cheese, fried chicken, mini sliders, coleslaw, and fries onto his plate, I reach for the bottle of wine, feeling uneasy that she’s treating Sam like a child. I understand she’s happy he’s home, but this is ridiculous. He’s not an invalid. And he’s not sixteen years old. If she wants him to remember who he is, she needs to start treating him like a grown man.
I throw back my Riesling, Saxon’s grinning face distorted through the bottom of my wine glass. He reads my annoyance clearly.
“How’s work, Lucy?” Greg asks, trying to make conversation.
“I haven’t been there for a little while, but I hope to get back soon.”
When Kellie attempts to serve Saxon, he shifts his plate away from her. She doesn’t hide her scowl.
“This ongoing war in Syria is just devastating. All those millions of people affected. Will your organization be lending a hand?”
“Yes, we will. It’s been a continuing battle for quite some time. I’ve worked quite closely with many humanitarian groups across the globe, trying to strategize a plan of action. After…” I pause, as I was going to reveal that after our honeymoon, I was scheduled to go over and offer aid to the war torn country.
Samuel knew this and supported me one hundred percent, but now, I can’t be too sure what he’ll think.
“I was actually scheduled to go over at the end of next month for twelve weeks,” I confess, nervously rearranging my silverware. “But I think I’ll postpone. I can always be as effective here as I would be over there.”
“It’s awfully dangerous over there, Lucy. And besides, you’re needed here,” Kellie says as she cuts into her chicken.
She’s right, but this is my job. This is what I love doing. This is my normal.
“I think you should go,” Saxon interjects, leaning back in his seat, sipping his beer.
“Don’t be absurd,” Kellie snaps. “Samuel needs her here.” Sam looks at his mom and screws up his face in dispute.
“And the homeless, famished people of Syria don’t?” Saxon counters smartly.
“They’re not my problem. Samuel is. I’m sorry they live where they do, but if they want to blow one another up, then good riddance, I say. They’re doing our troops a favor. They should bomb that entire country. Nothing good comes out of there, anyway.”
My mouth hangs open and I blink twice.
Saxon shakes his head, disgusted. “That’s a lovely attitude to have, Kellie. Screw the needy because Sam bumped his head.”
Samuel snorts besides me, but doesn’t say a word. The old Sam would be reprimanding his mom for such unethical, prejudiced views. But this Sam finds the entire exchange hilarious. Greg picks up on the hostility and uneasily tugs at the collar of his Abercrombie polo.
I should chastise Kellie, but I don’t. No matter how much of a bigot she is, she’s still practically my mother-in-law and I was raised better than that. I simply smile bitterly and sip my wine.
I’ve lost my appetite, but can feel Kellie eyeing my empty plate. My mother’s warm voice echoes in my ears to be the bigger person and let this go. I do. I serve up the smallest amount of food possible and pick at it like a sparrow.
We eat in relative silence, the TV filling the void. Kellie and Greg chat amongst themselves, laughing about whatever trivial bullshit fills their day. I have no idea why I’m so unreceptive towards them. I’ve never been this way before. I used to love hearing about their plans to travel, or what was installed on the farm. But has Kellie always been so annoying, and has Greg always been so…gutless?
As I peer across the table at an uninterested Saxon, I know the answer is yes.
“Sammy, remember this?” Kellie holds up her arm, a thin gold bracelet sliding down her slender forearm.
I have no idea why on earth she would ask him if he remembers. Has she forgotten he’s suffering from amnesia?
Samuel looks at her, mid-bite, shaking his head, completely uninterested.
“Well, I do. You bought this for me for Mother’s Day. You were nine. You couldn’t wait and gave it to me a day before. Saxon, what did you get me again?”
He tips the beer bottle towards her wrist. “That bracelet.”
Her face pales. “No, that’s not right. Sam got me this.”
I stop chewing, wondering if this is another one of those times where Sam totally screwed Saxon.
“He may have given you that, but I was the one who paid for it. I saved up all year, not spending a cent of my allowance to buy you a gift I thought you’d like. Sam found it hidden underneath my bed and then he gave it to you without me knowing. It was my fault for not finding a better hiding spot.”
“That’s impossible,” she declares, shaking her head.
“No, Kellie, it’s very possible. I’m pretty sure I told you this until I was blue in the face. You just didn’t want to believe that Sam had forgotten to acknowledge you as his mother.”
I bite my lip, while Sam watches on.
“How long will you be staying, Saxon?” Kellie asks, not even bothering to look at him.
“He can stay for as long as he likes,” I answer for him, unable to hide my annoyance.
Kellie’s eyes widen ever so slightly, not expecting my reply to be filled with such force.
“I just meant, the garage—who will look after it while you’re gone?” she quickly amends. I’m surprised she knows where he works.
“It’s under control, Kellie. Thanks for your concern.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me, which makes me nervous.
“Right, how about dessert, honey?” Greg says. He’s forever the mediator. She nods and stands, clearing the table. I help her in silence, thankful that this nightmare is almost over.
She puts on some coffee and passes me a delicious smelling orange up-side-down cake. I place it into the center of the table, wishing I could pass on dessert. I slump into my seat, never feeling more alone as Sam talks to Greg about the latest basketball scores, totally ignoring me.
My wine is my only savior and as I reach for it, I steal a glance at Saxon. He’s inclining back in his seat, his arms intertwined behind his neck. If he had ear buds inserted, I would compare tonight’s dinner to the one we had so many nights ago. However, tonight we appear to both be uncomfortable.
He watches me closely, just as I watch him, and just as I’m about to turn away, he pokes his tongue out at me. I blink, unsure if I’m hallucinating, but when he places his thumbs to his temples and waves his hands out childishly while sticking out his tongue, I know that I’m seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time.
He’s pulling a funny face at me—the same face I pulled at him. He remembers. And just like he did to me, a ghost of a smile touches my lips. My strangled giggle attracts the attention of the room, but Saxon is as cool as a cucumber as he sips his beer. No one saw the exchange but me. It’ll forever be our secret.
I instantly feel better.
“Coffee is served,” Kellie announces, just as Samuel’s cell pings.
He turns the screen away so I can’t see it. His action makes me instantly suspicious. He taps out a quick reply to whoever just messaged him and replaces the phone in his pocket with a smile.
A wave of dread passes over me.
“Samuel, how are things going with Dr. Yates?”
I spin to look at Kellie, shaking my head subtly. This conversation is not fit for a dinner table. Or any table for that matter. She doesn’t get the hint however.
“She seems like such a lovely lady. Have you discussed with her…what happened?” She places a hand to heart dramatically.
I can feel Sam’s good mood shift immediately. “Yes, we have. I hope that motherfucker fries,” he snarls. “Or better yet, give me five minutes with him and I’ll show him what it feels like to be in a coma.”
“Sam,” I whisper sympathetically, gently touching his leg. But he yanks it out from under my touch, scowling. And out comes Mr. Hyde.
“Samuel!” Greg scolds. “Watch your language around your mother.”
But the warning sends Sam off. “I’m sure she’s heard the word fuck before, Dad. And besides, in this circumstance, I think it’s warranted. I don’t remember who I am because that asshole took my life away from me! How is that fair?”
Sophia was right. This topic is one best left to therapy. I can hear Samuel’s pain, frustration, but most of all anger at being in the situation he’s in.
My heart bleeds for him. “You may not remember who you are, Sam, but I do. I’ll never forget.” My nostalgia has the opposite effect on Sam.
“Well, that’s great for you, Lucy—” my name sounds dirty “—but I don’t remember a damn thing. I don’t remember you, or this house, or anything of my adulthood, for that matter.” I can see his frustration at not remembering.
Saxon glares at Sam. “How about you stop whining and feeling sorry for yourself and man the fuck up? Sophia wants to help you, but of course you’re being a stubborn asshole about it. We’re all trying to help you,” he concludes, angrily.
“I don’t want your help,” he spits, pointing at Saxon. “You can go back to fucking Oregon and live your perfect life.”
“Fine!” Saxon kicks back his seat and stands. “I don’t need this shit.” Leaning forward and bracing his hand on the table, he pins Sam with a defiant stare. “Amnesia or not, you haven’t changed. You wanted to know the reason why I left? Well, the reason is you.”
“Saxon!” Kellie shrieks, standing.
But he ignores her. “I covered myself in tattoos, grew out my hair, and left this shithole dump because I needed to forget! I needed to forget you. Every time I look into the mirror, I’m reminded that you’re my brother, and I fucking hate it. I fucking hate you. And I know you remember why I hate you.”
Samuel shoots up, mimicking Saxon’s terrifying pose. It’s the ultimate standoff, and I’m afraid of what might happen when someone decides to move.
“Boys, that’s enough!” roars Greg, thumping his fist on the table.
I look between Samuel and Saxon, my body trembling, horrified at this scene of pure hatred. What did Samuel do? I used to think their differences were a simple misunderstanding, but now I know that’s not true.
When a tear slips down my cheek, Saxon’s eyes rivet my way. His gaze softens. “You don’t deserve her, you son of a bitch.” He pushes off the table and storms from the room, while I’m left with my mouth hanging open.
The room explodes into pandemonium as Kellie flails over to Samuel to ensure he’s all right. “This is just like Saxon to ruin a family meal.” She looks over at Greg, who shakes his head, disappointed.
This isn’t Saxon’s fault. Kellie’s cruel comment reminds me of the stories Saxon shared with me. It appears he’s been taking the blame for all of their family troubles, and it’s not right. I can’t take it a second longer. I spring up from my seat and run to the bathroom.
Locking the door behind me, I slide down it, needing a moment to catch my breath. Once I slump to the floor, feelings of hopelessness overtake me. Reaching for a perfume bottle off the basin, I hurl it against the wall, it shattering into a million pieces, just like my heart.
For the first time ever, I want to console Saxon and not Sam. I sink even further at the messed-up situation I find myself in. I’m so frightened that Saxon is about to leave. He has every right to. But if he goes, how am I going to survive this? Saxon is the only person who understands what I’m going through because he’s going through it, too.
Does Sam really remember whatever transpired between him and Saxon? And if he does, what did he do?
Needing answers, I take a deep breath and swallow down my tears because crying isn’t going to solve a thing. Standing, I splash some cold water onto my face and decide to get to the bottom of this rift once and for all.
Opening the door, I charge down the hallway, ready to kick hostilities’ butt, but sadly, the only butt that gets kicked is mine.
“I hate being here, pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m trying, I really am, but I can’t stand the sight of her. I have no idea what I ever saw in her and honestly, being here is just hindering my progress. She’s constantly down my throat, forcing me to remember her. But you know what, there’s a reason why I don’t remember her. It’s because she makes me sick. She’s a reminder of a past I don’t want to remember.”
I sag against the wall, ensuring I stay out of sight as I mute my whimpers behind my hand.
“Samuel, just give her a chance. She loves you so much.”
“That’s the problem…I don’t love her. And I doubt I ever did.”
I can’t hear another word. I can’t stand here and listen to the love of my life renounce his love for me.
I tear down the hall, yanking open the door and soaring down the stairs, tears of betrayal burning my eyes. The moment the night air caresses my heated skin, I kick off my shoes and take off in a dead sprint, needing to get away from this painful ordeal.
I don’t know where I’m running to; it just feels good to be free. My feet sink into the flourishing grass, but I push harder and harder, the burn in my entire body animating my every move. Spreading my arms out wide, I close my eyes. I wish I could take flight and leave my life behind. My life as I knew it is no longer and I don’t know what to do.
The cool wind whips at my face as my hair catches on the breeze, trailing behind me. I push forward, the adrenalin kick helping me to run faster. The moonlight illuminates the stables, a silent suggestion of where I should go. I tear inside, working on autopilot as I jerk open the door to Potter’s pen. He backs up, unsteady and frightened by my abrupt arrival, but when he senses it’s me, he steadies.
Without delay, I quickly put on his bridle, before I mount him, bareback, and squeeze my calves around his muscular barrel. “Let’s go!” I cluck my tongue twice, sending Potter into a high-speed gallop.
Loosely clutching the reins, I push my weight forward, allowing my body to become one with this magnificent beast as he dashes out of the stables and onto the vast land. I bounce in sync with his strides, squeezing my legs on his sides, encouraging him to go faster.
We have bonded and established a mutual respect and trust for one another. And we have also developed good communication over the years, so when I roar, “Hike!” he knows I want him to really stretch his legs and don’t hold back.
The full moon is the only light source we need as we ride through the fields, with no real destination in mind. As I lead him towards the back of the barn, an orange ember catches my eye, and I know without really looking who it is.
Saxon pushes off the wall, his eyes wide when he sees me sitting on the back of my horse with tears streaming down my face. “Lucy!” he calls out, throwing his cigarette to the ground.
But I don’t stop. I can’t. This is the first time in forever that I feel like I can finally breathe.
“Faster!” I yell, thumping Potter’s sides with my legs. He obliges. He runs faster and faster but yet, it’s not fast enough.
The world blurs around me and the fact I’m sobbing doesn’t exactly help either. But my mind is finally clear. There is no changing Samuel. He is what he is and he’s an asshole. I’ve tried my hardest to be understanding, to give him time to heal, but it’s not good enough. It’s never been good enough.
His cruel words sound over and over in my head, bringing on a fresh set of tears—tears of sadness, laced with a pinch of anger. If he doesn’t want to be here, then I’m not forcing him to stay. I only want what’s best for him. If he thinks I’m a hindrance to his progress, then he can leave. I won’t be blamed any longer. I’m sick of being the scapegoat. I am done.
As Potter gallops towards the mountains, the ground becomes bumpy and our ride becomes unsteady as I’ve never ridden out this way before. But I keep urging him forward, as the further away I flee, the better I feel.
My dress is hiked up, my hair is flowing freely, and I’m barefoot, riding my horse bareback—it’s an indescribable feeling of utopia. It’s exactly what I need. Sadly, my need for freedom has me losing my good judgment and as I steer Potter through dense vegetation, he suddenly becomes spooked and panics.
I try and calm him down, soothing him with gentle words, but it’s too late. The unfamiliar grounds, combined with the uneven earth and thick undergrowth, has him neighing furiously and suddenly slowing down his trot. He backs up as something I cannot see startles him.
“Easy, Potter,” I affirm, but he doesn’t listen. I try and steady him, but it’s useless.
Without warning, he rears up onto his hind legs, bucking me off his one thousand pound body. I don’t stand a chance holding on. I lose grip of the reins and get thrown feet away. I land with a painful thud, my body connecting brutally with the terrain.
Ignoring the stabbing pain in my temple, I automatically curl myself into a tight ball, afraid Potter will trample me. The stampede thankfully doesn’t come.
“Potter, easy boy!”
I cautiously raise my head, almost crying in relief when I see Saxon charging through the scrublands like a madman. He’s riding Luna, looking at ease on the powerful beauty. Potter neighs and gallops off in the opposite direction.
“Potter!” I scream, but the shooting pain in my temple has me dropping like a sack of potatoes.
“Lucy! Are you okay?” Saxon’s words are jumbled, broken down into slow motion.
The world starts spinning and I close my eyes when something sticky trickles into my right eye. I’m lying on my side, collecting my breaths while counting the billion stars flashing before me. I lie still, at peace, to gather my thoughts and push out the static. But when a wave of nausea rolls over me, I sit up as I think I’m going to be sick.
“Lucy? Can you hear me?” Saxon’s voice is my beacon of light and I hold onto it to stop myself from drowning.
“Y-yes,” I stammer, my voice ricocheting off the walls of my brain. I try and focus, thankful when his strong frame becomes clearer.
“Fuck, you’re bleeding.” He ties Luna to a tree before running back over to me.
“I’m fine.” I try and raise my hand to feel for blood, but my arm feels so incredibly heavy. It plops loudly into my lap.
“You’re not fine,” he rebukes, ripping off his t-shirt.
Before I can question if my eyesight is failing me, he drops to his knees before me and presses the garment to my forehead. The moment it connects with my brow, I yelp.
He recoils. “Sorry.” He eases up the pressure, but continues holding it to my temple, his face hard, mixed with concern. “What were you doing riding like that? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
Looking up at him from under my lashes, I don’t hide my embarrassment. Now that I’m not riddled with anger, I know that he’s right. “I know. It was stupid.”
His signature fragrance seems stronger, wrapping me in a bubble of pure masculinity. I never want to leave.
“What happened?”
Saxon isn’t silly. He knows for me to take off so irresponsibly, something heavy went down. “Samuel doesn’t love me anymore,” I pathetically reveal.
His eyes widen, but he shakes his head. “That’s not true.”
“I heard him, Saxon,” I miserably confess. “He told your parents that I make him s-sick. That I’m hindering his p-progress.” My lower lip trembles, but I refuse to cry.
He sucks in a hissed breath through his teeth. “He’s an asshole. Don’t listen to him. The only person hindering his progress is himself.” His gaze never wavers from my injury as he tends to my wounds.
We’re silent, our heavy breathing filling the still night air. I begin to feel better, no longer lightheaded, and my nausea slips away. But Saxon continues nursing me until he’s satisfied I’ve stopped bleeding.
The moonlight paints his naked torso, the swirls of colors of his tattoos contrasting against the blackness of the night. With a need so fierce and unplanned, I shakily reach out and stroke my fingers across his collarbone and down his muscled bicep. I dare not look at his chest, only focusing on his face and arm.
“They’re really beautiful,” I whisper, my voice cutting through the sudden inner storm.
His flesh breaks out into tiny goose bumps. I’m mesmerized by each one. I want to run my fingertip over each ridge.
“Thank you.” With slow, apprehensive fingers, he gently brushes a curl of hair from my brow. I whimper, his touch doing something it shouldn’t. His words however, completely ruin me. “So…are you.” He swallows. He’s visibly nervous.
“Saxon…” I don’t even know what I want to say. This entire time, I knew I felt something…more. More than I should. And it’s wrong. I shouldn’t feel anything but friendship for him, but I can’t squash down this invisible pull every time he’s near me.
Our eyes lock and I get lost in an ocean of tranquility. Saxon is my anchor, saving me from drifting away when uncharted waters become too rough.
I know what’s going to happen. I need to stop it. But I can’t. He closes the distance between us so painfully slow, I almost forget to breathe. My stomach begins somersaulting and my body heats with…desire. I want him to kiss me.
“Thus from my lips, my sin is purged,” he whispers, licking his bowed upper lip.
He is asking my permission, but he doesn’t need it.
“Then have my lips, the sin that they have took.”
Reciting Romeo and Juliet to a book geek is the way to my heart. But he could say nothing at all and I would still feel this tsunami rolling within.
He smirks, the incredible sight taking my breath away.
This is the time to pull away, to say no, but as he edges closer, I find myself edging closer, too.
At first, I’m taken aback, and remain motionless at the unfamiliar sensation of the softest pair of lips lightly touching mine. They’re apprehensive, testing the waters, and they’re also afraid. Saxon’s confident demeanor is now replaced with trepidation and longing. The sentiment has me tingling from head to toe.
Our lips are pressed together in a deadlock, but neither of us dare move. We’re both afraid that whoever makes the first move will set off a chain reaction of uncontrollable catastrophe that will seal our fates forever.
The thought is the reality check I so desperately needed and I tug away, horrified at what almost transpired between us. But my sense of right and wrong soon fades away when Saxon’s hand snaps out. He fastens his fingers around my nape, drawing my face to his. We’re inches apart, watching one another, never blinking. His warm breath fans my cheeks. I can feel his desire in every breath he takes.
On his knees before me, surrendering everything that he is, he whispers, “Let’s pretend tomorrow doesn’t exist.” Pressing his forehead to mine, he earnestly says, “Whatever happens now, it’ll just be memories from yesterday.” I can feel the tremble rumble throughout his entire body, and his uncertainty leaves me abandoning any lingering doubts. For this stolen moment in time, I just want to…feel.
Gently pushing on his bare, solid chest, he allows me to climb onto his lap as he nestles into the rocky terrain. Without a second thought, I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on tight, with no intention of ever letting go. His chest is rising and falling so quickly, I’m certain I can hear his heart hammering wildly within his body. The cadence matches mine as I seal my mouth around his. The touch of his full lips pressed to mine is complete perfection. But when he angles my mouth at the perfect slope and skillfully tangles my tongue with his, I know that this is nirvana.
The kiss at first is slow, like a roller coaster beginning its incline. But as we reach the pinnacle, it’s an exhilarating head rush of fast, breathtaking passion. When he senses me coyly opening up, lowering my guard and losing myself in the moment, he growls into my mouth. He dominates me with a fierce desire and in this moment, I am his.
I can’t keep up with the frantic pace, and finally, I surrender all I am. I allow him total control, melting when he sucks my bottom lip with a long, wet pull. I madly fuse our lips together, unable to get enough of this heady feeling, needing him to consume me, devour me, make me whole.
He is everywhere, engrained into my every pore, but yet he’s not close enough. I cup his face, his soft stubble feeling like silk underneath my fingers. He moans into my mouth, the sound doing something to me I can’t explain. Pressing my chest to his, I feel his heart still pounding frantically against mine. It pleases me to know he’s just as affected as I am.
I wrap my arms around his neck and toy with the long strands of hair curling at his nape. When he moans even louder, I thread my fingers through his hair and yank hard, fisting his thick locks. He hisses, the sound striking straight between my legs. I’m so turned on, I can feel myself getting wet and I’m embarrassed that all it took was a kiss to get me so worked up.
Our mouths never miss a beat as we kiss recklessly, both appearing to live by Saxon’s words of pretending there is no tomorrow. When I feel something firm stir between us, I whimper, shamelessly wanting to feel more. Flashes of what I saw in the shower flicker behind my eyes, and without a second thought, I rock my hips, gasping at the unforeseen awakening within. This is so unlike me, but I like it.
Each tango of tongues and sashay of lips drives us closer to crossing the line of no return. But who am I kidding? That line was crossed the moment I saw Saxon as someone other than Sam’s brother. This should feel so wrong, but it doesn’t. It feels right.
I continue kissing him until I can longer breathe without him. He becomes my life source—each kiss bringing me back to life. But when I hear my name catching on the wind, the reality of what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with douses my flames, reminding me that right now, right this second, I’m an adulterer. I’ve just cheated on Sam, and with this brother no less.
I feel sick.
Yanking away, I meet Saxon’s startled stare, him not understanding why I stopped. But when I cover my cheating, dirty mouth with a wavering hand, he gets it. There is no remorse in his eyes, only regret. “Lucy…”
His deep, husky voice makes this real. Makes the fact I made out with Saxon and liked it so very real. I’m disgusting.
Pushing off of him, I almost fall backwards as I attempt to stand. He lunges out to help me, but I slap his hand away. My engagement ring catches the moonlight. “Oh my god. What have I done?”
Standing on my own two feet, I look down at a broken-hearted Saxon. My need to console him leaves me winded, but I can’t. I’m afraid if I get too close, I’ll kiss him again.
“Lucy!” There is no mistaking that its Greg calling out my name. I need to get out of here.
“I’m sorry, Saxon. This shouldn’t have happened.” My lip trembles as I know I’ve just lost my best friend. But I’ve also lost a piece of me.
I don’t wait for him to reply. I can’t. I turn on my heel and run. That’s all I seem to be doing lately.
Too bad I can’t run away from the colossal mess I’ve just made.
* * * * *
September 4th 2004
Dear diary,
One month ago, I met Sam. So it only seems fitting that one hour ago we shared our first kiss. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wipe the smile from my face because I can’t remember ever being this happy!
It was totally unplanned, which is completely ironic, seeing as I’ve been dropping not so subtle hints all month.
Sam won his basketball game and being on a high, his teammates decided it would be fun to throw an impromptu party at Jonno’s house. Piper and I were excited to go, as it was our first real party. We’ve been to a few smaller parties, but this one was massive. There were over one hundred people there, and most were kids from our school.
Samuel was of course the star attraction. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Piper was off looking for Saxon, but I knew this wasn’t really his scene. I know she’s using Saxon as an excuse because she doesn’t particularly like Sam, and I don’t know why.
Every time I tried to talk to Sam, a new face would appear, congratulating him on his win. It was great seeing him being appreciated and acknowledged for the amazing athlete that he is, but after a while, I felt like the third wheel.
I never drink. Like ever. But tonight, I decided to try my first beer. It was awful, but after two sips, I felt buzzed. Boredom led to another beer and before I knew it, I was drunk. Wow, what a lightweight. The first time I drink I get drunk and off of two beers!
I noticed Alicia Bell loitering around Samuel for the majority of the night. She was his girlfriend before we started dating, and from the way she was hanging all over him, I dare say she wishes she still was.
I don’t know if it was the beer or maybe the fact another girl was pawing my boyfriend, but I marched over to Samuel, pushed through the crowd of fans circling him, and kissed him, right there in front of everyone.
At first he froze, and I thought I was doing it wrong because I’ve never kissed anyone before. But when he looped his hands around my waist and drew me into the warmth of his body, I knew he was just as shocked as I was by my forwardness, as me instigating this kiss was kind of a big deal.
The kiss was perfect. Everything I thought it would be and more.
My head was spinning the entire time and I’m certain it wasn’t the alcohol. I was drunk on Samuel. I still am.
We kissed for minutes. The crowd eventually grew bored by our frantic making out and left us to our heavy petting.
My heart is still racing because I can still feel, smell, and taste everything about that first kiss—it was the kiss of all kisses, and I’m sure no other kiss can compare.