He grabs a blanket out of the trunk of his car—why in the world does he have a blanket? How many girls has he done on that blanket?—and we head down to the beach, Gabe reaching out to grab hold of my hand when we have to make our way through a steep, rocky area. Once we reach the smooth sand I let go of his hand and walk beside him, nodding in answer when he asks if we should stop and sit at one particular point.
I help him smooth the blanket down onto the sand and then I sit on one edge of it, hoping he sits on the opposite end. But he doesn’t, of course. Nope, he sits right next to me, so close I can feel his heat, smell his scent and I close my eyes, trying my best to ward off the tsunami of emotions sweeping over me.
It feels so right, sitting with him like this. As if we never parted. But I also feel like a liar. He wonders why I work, why I have a shitty car, why I bargain shop and act like a regular girl. He told me once that I was the most refreshing privileged girl he’d ever met.
At the time, I hadn’t the heart to tell him that I’m not a rich girl at all. That I really am a regular girl who has to bargain shop and work and drive an old, slightly beat up vehicle. This is my life. This is me, yet somehow he doesn’t quite see the real me.
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to. Or worse, that he chooses to believe my lies.
In other words, he’s going to be super pissed if he ever finds out the truth.
“Can I admit something?” he asks, his voice low, reminding me of sweet, thick syrup being poured over my skin.
I nod, unable to say any words. Logic has fled and that’s so freaking dangerous. I knew if he got me alone out on this beach I’d do something stupid. Like let him do whatever he wanted to me.
He takes my hand and laces our fingers together in such a sweet gesture I almost want to cry. Well, not really. More like I want to grab him and roll around in the sand with our mouths locked and hands wandering everywhere.
Clearly I’m getting ahead of myself.
“I’ve missed you.” His gaze meets mine, such a deep dark blue, so full of uncontained emotion. I’ve never seen him look at me like this before and I brace myself for what he’s about to say next. “I’ve never said that to a girl before.”
“No one?” I croak out when he brings our linked hands to his mouth and brushes it against my knuckles.
“Not even my mother.” He kisses the back of my hand, his lips lingering and such a simple gesture should not feel so deliciously good. “I shouldn’t bring her into this particular conversation.”
I laugh nervously. “No, you shouldn’t.”
“I did miss you, Luce.” He takes a deep breath, I feel the warm gust of air against my skin and then he’s dropping our linked hands into his lap. Perilously close to that particular spot between his legs I have the sudden urge to touch. I know just what to do to make him groan and having that knowledge is quite a powerful thing. “More than I like to admit.”
“So why are you admitting it?”
“Because I want to be honest with you. No more bullshit between us.”
My heart aches. His admission is so…ugh. Meaningful and sweet. Yet I’m still a liar. A rotten, filthy, no good liar.
I look away from him because the intensity of his gaze is going to undo me if I don’t watch it. I might say something I’ll regret and though I want to be honest, I’m not ready to make him angry yet. “You’re the one who cut me off first,” I say, sounding like a miserable child.
“Is this a contest?” When I turn to glare at him he sighs, runs his free hand through his hair. He’s frustrated, I can tell, and that’s fine because I am too. “When you ran away from me in class on Monday, that hurt.”
Oh. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper. “I was really only trying to protect myself.”
“From me? That’s crazy.” He shakes his head.
A breeze washes over us and I shiver at the chill in the air. It may still be August but the nights get cool around here. “You were the last person I expected to find here, Gabe. And when I first saw you in the marketing class, I wondered if I was seeing things. I thought I was losing my mind. Then I realized you really were there and I didn’t know what to say, how to react. So I did the first thing that came to my mind.”
“Run,” he adds.
“Yep.” I nod. “I ran. And I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I wasn’t thinking of anyone else at that moment. Just myself.” I sound incredibly selfish but at least I’m being honest.
We’re quiet for a moment and he plays with my fingers with his own, his touch so light it tickles, making me all tingly everywhere. I could probably sit like this with Gabe forever…
“I want a do over,” he suddenly says and I frown at him.
“A what?”
“A do over,” he repeats. “I want to start fresh. Start over with you. Forget all that summer fling talk and everything else. It wasn’t a fling for me. I don’t think it was for you either.” He squeezes my hand, shifting closer to me. “I want another chance with you. With us.”
Oh. Crap. He’s serious. I can see it in his eyes, the expression on his dear, wonderful face. Unable to help myself I reach out and touch his cheek, feel the familiar prick of stubble beneath my palm and God, I want him. Just like that. I want him to lay me down on the blanket and press his big warm body into mine. I want to give up everything for just one more chance with him, to have exactly what he’s asking for.