Say You Still Love Me(100)

Kyle groans and rests his head on my abdomen. “This place is too small.”

I stroke his hair. “We can stay at my place. My bedroom is down a hall, away from the others.” In truth, I have my own wing that might be the size of this entire condo.

“But then I’d have to deal with Christa.”

“And her psycho cross-eyed cat.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

“But on the flipside, it’s only a fifteen-minute walk to work.”

“Hmm . . . that’s tempting, seeing as I have to catch the bus at five from here.”

“Eww.”

“Right? So, you know you’re welcome to stay here tonight, but I’ll be gone early in the morning.”

“It’s okay. I have to get home soon, anyway. I have this construction proposal to go through before tomorrow.” I should have been combing through it all afternoon, looking for issues to arm myself with in my power struggle against Tripp, not searching half of Lennox for Fun Dip powder packs and tangling in Kyle’s sheets.

Kyle lifts his head to regard me for a long moment, a curious look in his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m still in shock that you’re here, with me.”

“I know. Me, too.” And it still somehow feels like Kyle and me. We’ve changed, of course—the man looking up at me now is all muscle and strength, with the finest of fine lines touching his forehead and an entire arm and shoulder decorated in art—and yet there is still something so familiar and boyish about him.

Something that feels so right about us.

He bites his bottom lip, his gaze drifting over my breasts. “So I guess I only have twenty minutes, then.”

“For what?” I smile coyly.

I get a knowing smirk in return, and then his sinewy arms are tensing as he climbs up onto me.





Chapter 20



THEN


2006, Camp Wawa, End of Week Five

“Are you still having a good time, honey?” Mom’s voice sounds breezy and light. We’ve been catching up on Saturdays, when I come into town and can get solid cell phone reception, but last weekend she never answered my call. It’s been two weeks since I spoke to her—a record.

I smile. “The best time. Really. It’s been great.”

“I’m so happy to hear that. And that you’re staying out of trouble.”

“It’s not hard. I’m still on probation.”

“What about that boy?”

I glance over at Kyle, to see him and Eric punching each other in the arm as Ashley draws money from the bank machine. I wonder if my mother would consider me losing my virginity to that boy last weekend “staying out of trouble.”

“He’s fine.”

“Piper—”

“How are things on the island?” I ask, to divert the conversation.

“Oh, I’m having a fantastic time. It’s exactly what I needed.”

“But you’re coming home in three weeks, right?”

“Of course I’m coming home. You’ll be home.”

“So . . .” I hesitate. “Has Dad visited you lately?”

She sighs into my ear. “Your father and I agreed to give each other some real space. That means him not coming out here.”

It also means they can’t work things out. It also means my life may be turning upside down when I leave Wawa. My shoulders sag with dismay. Leaving will already be hard enough. “You haven’t been lonely out there, all by yourself?”

“Me?” She laughs. “No, darling. Jackie came out for a few days. And I’ve been at the club almost every day. My tennis game has improved. This instructor I have now is . . . well, he has definitely taught me a lot I didn’t know.”

“That’s good. Maybe we can start playing singles again.”

“Hmm? Yes. Maybe. So, listen, I’m going to be heading off to Paris on Monday for two weeks.”

I frown. “By yourself?” How hurt is Dad going to be that she refused to go with him in May, but is jetting off now?

“Uh . . . no. Jackie said she’d come with me,” she says, almost as if she’s deciding then and there that she’ll invite her sister along. “But your dad is in Lennox and not traveling. Should you need anything while I’m gone, you can call him.”

“Okay. I guess?”

“Good. Love you, darling. See you in three weeks!”

I hang up, the reminder that the end of summer is looming nearer making my chest ache. Just three weeks left with Kyle, and then we have to figure out how we’ll manage a long-distance relationship until we’re back here next summer.

Kyle sidles up beside me, roping his arms around my waist. “Why so sad?” he whispers, kissing the side of my neck. This past week has been a test of teenage hormonal fortitude—of seeing him but not touching him, of pretending that we’re not aching for another Saturday night.

His hands have been on me since the last camper rolled out of the parking lot today—a thumb stroking the small of my back while Darian presented this week’s counselor stars; a palm warming my thigh as we inhaled the grilled cheese sandwiches that Russell whipped up for us; fingers digging deep into the back pockets of my jean shorts before we got in his car.