Love Songs & Other Lies(53)
I pull my eyes away from my feet and see Cam walking toward us. When he gets to the car, Logan slaps him on the back with a “Hey, man,” and starts to walk away, shouting, “Think about it!” before he disappears into his car. It’s like a strange changing of the guard for my heart, old to new. And that realization alarms me, the fact that Cam holds a piece of my heart now, maybe all of it. How did that even happen?
“What does he want you to think about?” Cam asks as he opens my door.
“Nothing. We were just talking about old plans,” I say, lacing my fingers together with Cam’s on the console between our seats, because it’s become habit. We’re one of those couples with our hands stitched together now.
CAM
With the wind whipping by us, Vee and I huddle on the frigid sand, a blanket burrito-wrapped around our bodies. We both have our heads under the blanket, our cheeks resting on the warm flannel, against the sand. I can feel her warm breath against my face as she speaks.
“Sand castles, bongo drums”—Vee kisses me on the nose with each word—“and you.”
“Three things that are all too cold to be out on the beach right now?” I ask. She smacks me under the blanket for the joke, but I’m serious. “Fuuuuck, it’s cold.”
“Three things I love about the beach.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s almost winter.” Her voice is soft. “Winter’s the worst.”
“There are good things about winter.”
“Untrue,” she says.
“What about Christmas?” This seems like a solid argument, since Vee has told me she “loves Christmas more than ice cream.” Which, for her, is really saying something.
“Christmas exists in plenty of places that don’t have winter.”
“We can do most of the same things in winter we do now.”
“Oh, please,” she says. Even though it’s dark under the blanket and I can’t see her very well, I know she’s rolling her eyes. “That’s not even close to true. We can’t come here. Not much longer.”
I kiss her on the forehead, because her voice sounds so sad. “I want you to know that I want to be one of those guys who says yes to everything, just to make you happy.” I kiss her softly and slowly. “But you’re right. We can’t. It’s fucking freezing out here.”
She lets out a long breath and snuggles further into my side. “Not surprising. You’re a total baby about the cold.” She snuggles her face into my chest. “You’re like a pineapple, or something.” Her voice is muffled by my arm.
“A pineapple?”
She pulls her head out of her hiding spot and smiles at me. “Yes, a delicate tropical fruit.” We both laugh, and the way we’re lying—chest to chest with our faces almost touching—I can feel it vibrate through me.
I pull her face to mine, brushing our lips together, softly at first, and then more urgently as she parts her lips. Our tongues move, giving and taking, slow and fast, as my hands search up and down her back, dipping under the waistband of her jeans and resting on her hips, before running up her stomach to her chest, slipping under the soft fabric.
I feel Vee shiver under me as I run my hand over her warm skin.
“You’re sure?” I kiss along her neck and work my way down.
“I’m sure.” She kisses my forehead like I always do to her. I kiss her back, a smile spreading across my face as my lips meet her warm skin.
The blanket dips into the sand underneath me as I shift around. “We might be smothered under here.”
She giggles.
This beach is where I fell in love with her. We had our first kiss here. And our second, better kiss. Last week, this is where she told me she was falling in love with me, though she didn’t actually say those three words. And I can deal with this hot blanket if this is what she wants.
I kiss her collarbone. “I love you.” I say it because I do. I never thought saying it to a girl would be easy, but it just fell out of my mouth one day. And I’ve been saying it for weeks now.
Vee presses her forehead against mine. “You’re not just saying that because I’m going to have sex with you, are you?” She’s trying to sound serious, but she’s smiling, teasing me.
“No. That’s just one of the many reasons,” I say, which gets me smacked in the chest.
She pulls at the buttons of my pants. “Good.”
VIRGINIA
I can just barely make out the faint cadence of bongos. It feels like they’re beating in rhythm with my heart, playing a song that’s just for us, just for tonight. The lake seems more urgent tonight, the waves crashing just a little harder, cresting just a little closer. Cam’s hands are under my shirt, on my stomach, over my chest, running down my back. His fingers sear a trail across my skin, as they cover every inch of me, turning cold to hot. I push my shoes off, he pulls at my shirt; we twist and tangle, bend and dip. There’s me and him, but mostly there’s just us—everywhere. His hand on my hip, my hand on his chest, his lips on mine, each of us like an extension of the other. It’s frantic but soft, gentle but powerful.
And finally, we feel together. He feels like mine, and I am nothing but his. Every quick breath and slow sigh feels engrained in me, written on my skin, etched in this memory I’m already holding on to.