Interim(101)

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand once more.

He allowed her to linger in the bathroom doorway for a moment, but he wouldn’t let her search the room like she’d done his kitchen. Toiletries were private. Plus, he didn’t want her stumbling upon his box of condoms. Totally premature to think that far in advance, but after Regan’s “Make me come!” comment, he thought there could be some chance in the near future. Maybe.

He grinned.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“The way I think sometimes.”

She eyed him curiously. “You won’t elaborate, will you?”

“No, because you’ll take it all the wrong way,” he said.

“Will I?”

He nodded.

Silence.

“You have condoms in this bathroom, don’t you?” she asked after a moment.

His eyes bugged.

Regan smirked. “You know, just in case.”

His mouth dropped open.

“Because of my ‘make me come’ comment the other day. You just wanted to be prepared, right?” she elaborated.

“Get out of my head!” Jeremy cried. “And my bathroom!”

He pulled her along to the bedroom, replaying his recent thoughts to the melody of her laughter, wondering if he didn’t actually say them aloud. How did she know? How on earth could she know? And then he remembered that she was Regan. Clever. Sharp. Too sharp, and he wondered how he could possibly keep up.

“I’m not having sex until I’m married,” Regan said.

“Really?” Jeremy asked, dreams shattered.

“No.” She grinned up at him.

“You know, they warned me about you,” he said, pulling her close.

Touching used to be hard. Impossible, really. Just a fantasy he’d frequently get off on when he was alone at night. Now, here she stood. Alone with him. His girlfriend. And he knew he had all the right in the world to touch her, kiss her, wrap his arms around her, pick her up, toss her in the air, cradle her like a baby, protect her from the cruel world . . . As long as she gave him permission.

“Is this all right?” he asked, lips pressed against the top of her head.

“Is what all right?”

“Me holding you like this.”

She nuzzled his neck. “It’s perfect.”

“Will you tease me forever?” he asked.

“About what?”

“Just anything.”

“I won’t lie. You make it easy,” she said.

“Am I too serious?”

“All the time.”

“Is that boring?”

“No.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always, Jeremy.”

“Do you love me?”

She pulled away, shocked, staring up at him with wide black eyes. Cave pools.

He didn’t know what to say. Why the hell did he ask her that? Totally inappropriate! More inappropriate than the premature condoms! At least she could tease him about that. But there was no way she could tease her way out of this one. Just feeling love was serious business. Verbalizing it? Sacred.

She took his hands. “What does Hannah like to call you?”

He furrowed his brows.

“A dope?”

He nodded and grinned.

“You must be,” Regan said.

“And why’s that?”

“Because how could you not know?” she asked.

The anger that kept clawing its way to the top of his heart slipped all over again. This time it couldn’t catch the wall halfway down and attempt another ascent. Nope. This time it fell all the way into the abyss and was eaten up by happiness.

“I loved you in sixth grade,” Regan said softly. “I wanted a matching scar like yours. And in seventh grade, I hated you, because I thought you didn’t love me. In eighth grade, I loved you again because I’d given my heart enough time to heal. In ninth grade, I didn’t know you because I dated another boy. In tenth grade I was infatuated with you because I knew you were a better match for me. In eleventh grade, I loved you all over again when I was certain I knew who I wanted. And now?” She paused. “Now, I love you because I know you. I love you because I believe in all your goodness. I love you because of the way you make me feel. I love you because I want to.” She smiled. “And I love you because I’m helpless not to.”