Boys, Bears And A Serious Pair Of Hiking Boots Part 17

I'm still lying there hours later, clutching the soft throw. The house falls silent, as Fiona turns off her music to sleep, and Adam and Susie lock up and make their way to bed. I should turn in, too, but somehow the effort it would take to find PJs and brush my teeth is beyond me. Maybe I could just fall asleep right here. . . .

Suddenly, there's a rattle at my window. I sit up. There it is again. Crossing the room, I look out, checking that a branch hasn't gotten trapped in the shutters again, or - "Hey, Jenna!" There's a loud stage whisper from down in the backyard.

"Argh!" I let out a squawk of shock, banging my head against the frame. "Ethan, is that you?" I squint to make out a shape in the dark. "What are you trying to do, scare me half to death?"

"No, it's me, Reeve."

As I lean out of my window - face red and blotchy from crying, chocolate staining my s.h.i.+rt from where I comfort-ate a half-pint of ice cream - I see him step out from the shadows.

"Can you come down? I, uh, need to talk to you."

I reel backward in shock. Reeve. Here. Now?

"Jenna?" he calls again.

"Yup?" I edge toward the window, staring like he's some kind of hallucination brought on by too much sugar and wishful thinking.

"Can you come down?"

I can't see his face, just the dark outline of his silhouette. "What for?"

"So we can talk!"

I'm standing, trying to figure out what to do, when I hear footsteps outside my door. I freeze. If someone comes . . . but there's nothing. I exhale, relieved.

"Jenna?" Reeve's voice is louder now. I check the flickering display on my nightstand. It's one a.m.

"Fine! I'll come down," I hiss at him. "But be quiet! Susie will . . . I don't know what she'll do if she finds you here, but it won't be good!"

I close the window and spin around, freaked. What is he even doing here? I'm still dressed in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt, so I quickly throw the comforter around my shoulders and pull on a pair of socks. My hair is a tangled mess, and as for my face . . . argh! Skidding silently down the hallway, I lock myself in the bathroom and brush my teeth at record speed. A wipe with my facecloth is all I have time to manage before creeping downstairs and out to the back porch.

Reeve is waiting there for me.

"Hey!" He bounces up from the step, looking anxious. The porch lamp is spilling gold light over him, making his black hair gleam perfectly and his tan appear even darker. I feel a new rush at the sight of him, but force myself to stay cool. I don't want to fall all over myself if he's just here to say it didn't mean anything.

Reeve clears his throat. "I'm really glad you -"

"Shhh!" I hiss, panicked, and quickly check the house for signs of life.

"Sorry!" He lowers his voice.

I wait for a moment, but it seems safe: nothing but the sound of the forest and the low whir of crickets. "So what do you want?" I pull my blanket tight around my shoulders and try to look unconcerned.

Reeve looks down at his battered black sneakers for a moment. "I, uh, wanted to check in. About today . . ."

"What about it?" I manage to sound casual, as if I haven't spent hours having imaginary versions of this very conversation.

He looks up, meeting my eyes. "I'm . . . sorry. I mean, I was kind of weird before, with the guys."

"Really?" I act nonchalant even as I feel a wave of relief. He's sorry!

"Yeah . . ." Reeve shrugs self-consciously. "I guess, we didn't really talk about . . . You know, how it was going to work. With the others."

"No . . . we didn't," I admit. We didn't do much talking at all.

There's a pause, as I get a very vivid flashback to what we were doing instead of all that mature discussion. By the look I get from Reeve, I'm guessing he's thinking the same thing.

"Umm." I blush. "So . . . maybe we should do that now. The talking?"

He nods immediately. "Right."

Another silence.

"Do you want to go first?" I ask hesitantly. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I just want to be done with it - good or bad. Bracing myself, I sit down on the porch step and wait.

Reeve sits down as well. He's a safe couple of feet away from me, but I can still feel the presence of his body. Staring straight out at the dark yard, he lets out a long breath. "The thing is . . . I like you, Jenna." His words come tumbling out in a quick rush, and right away, my heart leaps. "But I don't want you to get the wrong idea. About . . . us."

He glances over, cautious. Just as fast, my hopes deflate. This is it? He shows up late at night, throwing pebbles at my window, just to tell me not to get the wrong idea?

Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I play with the frayed edge of the blanket. "So, what is this? I mean . . . what happened, was it a mistake? Because it would be cool if you didn't mean it," I add immediately, not wanting to sound desperate. "I mean, we were both so stressed, and I did kind of throw myself at you and -"

"No!" Reeve exclaims, before remembering to lower his voice. "No, that wasn't just you. It was . . . I wanted it, too."

"Oh." My voice is quiet. I force myself to glance back at him. "Then, what? I don't understand."

Reeve sighs. "Me either. It's just . . ." He looks over at me, the light casting shadows across his face. But I can still see his eyes, and the expression there is almost resigned. "You're only here for the summer, and then you're heading home, right?" I nod slowly. "And I might be going to college, or not, and . . . I don't want to start something I can't follow through." Reeve sits there, leaning forward on his knees, ripping up the dandelion heads that grow up the side of the steps.

I come back down to earth with a b.u.mp. I hadn't even thought about the future. I've been so caught up in breathless speculation over if he even likes me or not, that I didn't consider what this could actually be, or for how long.

"And the thing with Ethan . . ." he adds, hesitant.

"Was never ever a thing!" I say quickly.

"Oh. Cool." He looks relieved.

"I don't mind about, you know, the future and stuff." I cringe. Apparently, awkward moments of intimacy rob me of all decent vocab. "Just because I'm leaving, it doesn't mean we can't . . . hang out." Again with the eloquence.

Reeve looks over, his dark eyes inscrutable. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!" I'm breathless now, seeing a way of getting what I want. Of getting Reeve, even for a little while. "We could just, spend time together. I mean, it's not like I want to get married!"

He chuckles nervously, and I remember the number-one rule of teenage boys: Never ever mention the word marriage. Not even as a joke.

"Like you said, I'm just here for the summer," I add quickly. "I'm not looking for anything serious."

There's silence, and I begin to wonder if that's made me sound like some kind of s.l.u.t, but then Reeve exhales, his lips curving into a slow grin.

"I feel kind of stupid now," he admits, looking sheepish. "a.s.suming you wanted . . . I mean . . ."

I manage to laugh. "Full of yourself, huh?"

"I guess so." He stays there for a moment, looking sideways at me. Then he moves his left hand to overlap mine on the step. I turn it over, linking my fingers through his while my heart sings.

He likes me!

"So . . ." Reeve grins at me again, and I grin back, almost embarra.s.sed.

"So . . ." I echo, amazingly happy and nervous all in the same moment. Before, in the woods, that was sheer impulse. I didn't have time to think about impressions or consequences or anything. But now . . . now every second drags out into forever as I sit here, waiting to kiss him again.

And then he leans in, reaching to touch my face as his lips slowly move closer to mine, and I forget everything.

I'm not a total innocent. I've kissed guys before. Guys I liked, guys I didn't, guys who attacked my mouth like their tongue was a whirlpool, and guys who just kind of smushed their lips against mine and stood there, waiting. But none of that comes even close to kissing Reeve.

His breath is warm against my face as I move closer, mirroring him. I swear I'm so tense, I'm almost shaking, but if he notices, he doesn't say. Resting his hand against my cheek for a moment, Reeve pauses, his lips barely touching me. I stop breathing. Then his mouth opens slightly, and his hand slips back toward my hair, and I just . . . fall into him.

Now I understand. Why Olivia sneaks and lies to her parents to spend more time with Cash. Why Ethan is willing to move cross-country to find a boy to date. Why Miriam Park and those other popular girls would trip into cla.s.s giggly and swooning after making out with their boyfriends against the lockers.

Because this is incredible.

Eventually, we come up for air, Reeve loosening his pull on the back of my neck. I draw away slightly and let out a shaky breath, my whole body flying on some magical mix of hormones and adrenaline and pure Reeve. I fight to form a coherent thought.

"This casual thing . . ." Reeve says, his voice slightly hoa.r.s.e. He clears his throat and then breaks into a mischievous look. "The person who thought it up deserves a medal."

I laugh, the tension broken. "A n.o.bel Prize," I agree, grinning.

"C'mere." He reaches over and pulls me against him, one hand around my shoulder and the other twisting around my left hand. He exhales, and I feel it in the rise and fall of his ribs against me. "That's better."

So much better. I rest my head gently on his shoulder, the heat of his body warming me even through my blanket.

"So we're good?" Reeve looks over to check. I nod happily. And then, just because I can, I lean up quickly and kiss his cheek. He grins, tightening his embrace. "Good."

I'm not sure how long I sit there, snug in his arms, but soon I can't help but let out a huge yawn. Reeve starts.

"I'm sorry - I didn't even think."

"It's OK!" I tell him sleepily. "I'm"- yawn -"fine."

Reeve squeezes me. "Sure you are. It's almost . . ." He checks his watch. "After two? Jesus, I've got an early s.h.i.+ft."

"Oh, no!" I struggle to my feet. My legs get caught in the blanket and I stumble against him. Reeve catches me.

"Whoa, you don't have to go falling at my feet."

"Very funny." I hit him gently. He grabs my hand and pulls it up to his shoulder. I move closer against him, still thrilled just by having his arms around me, solid and strong.

"About this thing . . ." he starts.

"Mhmmm?" I place a tiny kiss just below his earlobe, and then another just at the curve of his neck. The skin there is soft, and smells faintly of soap and laundry detergent.

"Maybe, we should keep it low-key," Reeve suggests. I look up.

"Like, you mean a secret?"

He nods, dipping his head to kiss my forehead. "This town, it's so small," he explains. "One person finds out, and then they go talk to someone else, and suddenly, everyone knows everything." A weird expression flickers across his face, like a shadow. "It gets so claustrophobic, all that pressure."

"But would that mean you go back to ignoring me again," I say, beginning to feel insecure.

"No way," Reeve promises, shaking his head. "This would just be like, our thing. And when we're out, with everyone, we would be like before. Friends."

"Promise?" I check.

He kisses me lightly on my lips. "I swear. I really am sorry about earlier," he adds, looking anxious.

I relax. "It's OK. I was just, confused. I didn't know how you felt."

"And now you do."

Reeve kisses me again, longer this time. I sigh, reaching up to slide both hands around his neck. Biting down gently on his lower lip, I feel him smile against me.

"I better get back." Reluctantly, he pulls away. "But I'll see you after work, at Ethan's?" I nod. "Maybe I'll give you a ride home. . . ." He gives me this look that melts me from the inside, and I wonder how the h.e.l.l I'm supposed to act normal around him ever again.

"See you tomorrow," I agree, breathless. He kisses me again, both hands on my cheeks, and then hurries away around the side of the house, swallowed up by the dark.

I sag back against the porch. I'm exhausted, but I know there's no way on earth I'm sleeping tonight, not with this electricity still sparking through my bloodstream.

It seems impossible that things would go on as normal after something so major, but they do. The next week pa.s.ses much like the ones before: the B and B gradually begins to resemble an actual home (instead of a war zone), another couple of bookings come through, and I finally perfect the guitar solo on that Weezer track for our Rock Band wars. But there is one big difference, the reason I can't check my phone without a tiny grin, and why I'm not getting any sleep even though I turn in for bed before ten.

Reeve.

We've managed two more secret rendezvous since that night on my front porch: down by the lake one evening, and another midnight escape. I nearly woke the whole house tripping on some stray paint cans, but luckily, no one heard. It feels like everyone should be able to tell something's up, the way I'm still buzzing with crazy adrenaline, but n.o.body notices a thing, not even Ethan.

"I'm bored," he announces at the end of the week. Slumping down until only a mess of brown hair is visible on the countertop, Ethan makes a m.u.f.fled groaning noise. "I'm so freaking bored!"

"You said that yesterday." I pause from editing a new video, one of Ethan fis.h.i.+ng up at the river. I'm practiced now, but it still takes time: cutting the footage on Susie's program and uploading it to the site. I'm going to ace my computer tech cla.s.ses next semester for sure.

"Yeah, but today is worse." He looks around at the empty aisles, mournful. "We haven't had a single customer all morning."

"That's because everyone sane is indoors." Brus.h.i.+ng damp, sweaty hair from my forehead, I pout. "Why didn't you tell me your AC was out?" We've got eight portable fans set up on a side table, all pointed so the cool breeze blows right at us, but it's still not enough to keep this heat wave at bay.

"Because then you wouldn't have come," Ethan replies. He musters an evil grin, still lying with his cheek against the front desk. "And I'd be stuck here, going out of my mind alone."

"You suck." I'm too hot to hit him properly - I just toss an empty packing carton over the register. He doesn't bother to move.

"There's nothing to do."

"We could go to the lake this afternoon," I suggest. And if Reeve stops by . . .

"Boring."