A Fine Mess (Over the Top #2) - Kelly Siskind Page 0,74
I’m honest.”
“You say I’m hot no matter what I’m doing.”
“Exactly. Honest. You should try it. It feels great. What do you see when you look at me?” I wiggle my eyebrows.
I haven’t felt this protective of anyone since my mother. That time of my life isn’t one I’d like to repeat. Anger over my dad, coupled with the fear my mother might overdose again, had me so on edge I’d snap at my friends and fight with Finn at the drop of a hat. It took a beatdown from Finn to shake me out of it. He gave me shit, listing all our friends whose parents were divorced and telling me to stop being so selfish. That it wasn’t about me. Finn might not have had the burden of my knowledge, but his yelling subdued my rage.
This is different. There’s no anger here. Only a fierce need to prove to Lily I’m here for her, find a way to ease her worry, and the best way I know to distract her is to turn her focus on yours truly. After all, the word awesome ends with me.
In fifth grade we had to write a poem about ourselves. Like most school endeavors, I busted it out five minutes before class. It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever written:
I can fly and disappear
There is nothing I fear
I can grow ten feet tall
Beat my brother in a brawl
I can lift cars and breathe fire
Bend wood and shape wire
I am Captain Awesome
Playing along with my distraction game, Lily runs a finger from my forehead down my nose, tracing a line to my lower lip. “You’re sexy as sin, Sawyer West. That’s what I see.”
Like I said, Captain Awesome. I nip her finger and she tugs it back, grinning.
“Isn’t honesty liberating?” I say. “Now tell me what you’re scared of. What do you think will happen when we walk into your place?”
Her smile slips, and I follow her gaze across the flat land leading to the farmhouse, snow covering the expanse. The structure is old, the gray-brown wood weathered. A few evergreens loom large at its sides. From the outside it’s ordinary, indistinct. But it’s not the outside that has her freezing up.
Finally, she says, “It’s one thing to tell you what I do, another for you to see it. I’m worried you’ll look at me differently, that you won’t feel the same. I still need to face my issues, but I don’t want to lose you, too.” Her last words trail off.
When we had sex last night, I could barely breathe. I didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to pull out of her when it was over. I’ve never let a girl spend the night, haven’t chosen to accommodate someone else in my life, until Lily. Not sure I’m ready for the ring and bended knee and promises of forever, but if she turns around and tells me she needs a break, that she has to handle her issues on her own, odds are I’ll wind up riding my bike until my legs snap. Or my heart stops. I place two fingers under her chin and turn her face toward me. “Not another living soul knows what happened with my mother. I’ve never told a woman I love her. I flew to Belize to be with you, and I’m here now. We’re in this together.”
“I’m still scared.”
“I know. But I’m here for you.” When she frowns harder, I say, “Plus, if we split, I’ll have to return the vintage sewing machine I bought you.”
Her eyes light up. “Is it a Singer?”
“Yup.”
“Black with gold-and-red filigree?”
“The very one.”
She bites her lip. “You shouldn’t have.”
With an exaggerated exhalation, I wipe my brow. “Actually, I’m glad you said that, because I didn’t. But now that I know you’ll go crazy for one, consider it done.”
She rolls her eyes, the exact reaction I’d hoped for. “Your maturity hovers around thirteen.”
I pull the car keys from the ignition. “It’s a gift. Now, what do you say we do this?”
Still worrying her lip, she nods.
The hinges sigh as she opens the farmhouse door. It’s warmer than outside, but still cool, the floor lamenting with each step. Scents of earth and cedar thicken the air, something flowery lingering as we cross the vestibule. She pauses at the threshold to the living area, and I grip her hips. “I got you.”
Her body shudders, a slight tremor I feel to my core. Then we step inside.