Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,91

my skin. Andrew sits down on my bed. “Let’s get warm.”

“Hold on,” I say and lock my door. Just in case. I can’t help it. I check to see if the Waterman Scholarship application sits faceup on the desk along with a couple of Summerhill Academy folders. They do and I relish the darkness.

I wring my hair out, bay water sprinkles the white carpet, and Andrew lies across my bed, leaning his head on his hand. I’ve never been naked in bed with a guy before, not even Tucker.

“I told you this a hundred times, but you’re beautiful,” he says.

I crawl on the bed toward him and snuggle into the sheets. He stays on top of the blanket. His blue eyes are darker in the night. His shoulders and chest are broad and I want to touch him again, run my fingers over him like I did down in the bay.

Andrew moves the sheets aside and slides his wet body on top of me instead. The pressure of his weight lifts when he holds himself up.

“Tell me something about you,” he whispers.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. I spent a day on a boat with fishermen.”

I lift my chin and find his lips—we kiss, and it’s salty seawater. There’s a tiny ball of light in the center of my stomach and it’s radiating up to my chest, to my throat, to my mouth, and I pull away from his lips. I don’t want to be anywhere else. Ever.

“Okay. Have you ever seen a solar eclipse?”

Andrew shakes his head.

“If it’s a total eclipse, the sun and moon perfectly align with the Earth. The moon’s disc makes a ring of light around the sun. It’s called ‘the diamond ring effect.’ I mean, it’s just a metaphor. You know? Because it’s not really diamonds,” I say.

He considers me as though he’s figuring something out for the first time. “Sarah,” he whispers, pulling away from me. “Sarah, I—I love you.”

Hope—joy—love all explode in me at once.

“There is no concrete scientific proof that love exists,” I say.

“Okay . . . but do you love me?” he asks slowly.

“Yes. Of course. I love you.” As the three words slip through my lips I know I do not need to test this through empirical data. This is fact.

He dives for me, his tongue parts my lips as we kiss deeper than we ever have before. I pull away and place my hands on his cheeks.

He kisses me again.

And again.

And again.

We talk and kiss and he teaches me about his body. I didn’t know the body could pulse like this. Contract like this. The stars he makes me see are on the back of my eyes. We don’t have sex—I’m not ready, I say. He kisses me as a response and does not pressure me. When the sky starts turning pink is when I fall asleep with my head on his stomach. He’s stroking my head, with the palm of his hand. That puts me right to sleep. And I do sleep. Sleep like I haven’t a care in the world.

A mouth on mine. Someone’s kissing me. Hands run down my shoulders to my arm. I kiss back—oh! I draw in a heaving breath and awake. Andrew is on top of me again, his eyes are now a blue-green in the morning light.

“I gotta go,” he says. “Busy day. It’s 5:06 and I have to be at the juvie camp at 7:30. I have to get some paperwork to BC, too.”

He slides on his swim trunks and he is absolutely beautiful with his unkempt hair and stubble. It’s strange. I know what he is covering up with his clothes. I haven’t thought about it until now, but it’s a special knowledge. One that can only exist when two people really know one another.

“Walk me out?” he asks.

I wrap a robe around me and unlock the door. I make sure to block my desk with my body so he can’t see the application in the morning light. We wait in the doorway, listen for any movement in the house, and tiptoe down the stairs. He keeps a hand on my lower back the whole way.

A door unlatches.

We freeze. There are footsteps in the kitchen, heavy squeaky ones, and I know it’s Nancy up earlier than she probably ever has been in her life. Of course.

I bring my finger to my lips. Andrew meets my eyes and I mouth, “My aunt.”

My fingers linger on the banister. My other hand is