“Goodnight, Ingrid.”
One minute I was snuggling with Coen (how the hell did that happen?) and the next I was waking up in the dark alone. I blinked a few times and looked around, but he was gone. I got up and turned on the light. No note?
Oh. He’d left me a note written on the cupcake box. It was just something simple, but it still made flutters break out in my body and a smile almost cross my face.
I set it down and got back on my bed.
Things with Coen had just gotten seriously complicated. It wasn’t just because we’d kissed. I was starting to feel things for him that I didn’t think I’d ever felt before, even before. He made me think things that I didn’t want to think and want to do things I didn’t want to do.
I reached under my pillow and pulled out my notebook, turning to a fresh page.
You look at me like,
I crafted the sun with my hands,
Breathed the stars from my lungs,
Sang the moon into existence,
I stopped writing and shook my head. I was being sentimental and foolish and that wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I slammed my notebook shut and shoved it back under my pillow.
No matter what Coen and I did, I couldn’t get into that kind of headspace. Writing poetry about him was off-limits.
Groaning at my own ridiculousness, I slammed back against my pillows. I was on a sinking ship and I could see the lifeboat. The question was, would I get on it or drown?
I couldn’t remember the last time I was this nervous. My hands fluttered and I shoved them in my pockets. In my stressed out state this morning, I’d gotten to class much earlier than I intended, so now I was sitting and freaking out about seeing him.
I had no idea what he was going to say. If he would try to kiss me again. If he would pretend that it never happened.
I didn’t want him to pretend that it never happened, but other than that, I had no idea what I wanted. I tried to stop looking at the door, but failed so many times. Finally, I wrenched my neck around so I was facing the front. A few moments later, there was a tap on my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said with a warm smile that showed off his almost-perfect teeth. My heart plummeted to my feet and my hands started to shake.
“H-hey,” I said as he took the seat next to me and put my cup of tea on my desk.
“You’re early,” he said, his voice pretty neutral.
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep,” I mumbled.
I was lost. I had no idea what I was supposed to do or say.
“You too?” he said and I looked into his eyes just before another devastating smile crossed his lips. He was so beautiful it hurt to look at him.
“I had a lot on my mind,” I said and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Yeah, me too. I think… I think we should talk about everything.” I still couldn’t get a read on him and what direction this was going to go. For the first time ever, I wished I could read minds.
“Yeah?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Definitely.”
Class started, effectively ending our conversation, but I didn’t miss how he scooted closer to me, until our shoulders were touching.
“Hey,” he said softly so that only I could hear. I turned my head a fraction and found him staring at me.
“I had a really good time last night,” he whispered and his mouth was so close that his words stirred some of my hair.
“Me too,” I whispered back and that made him smile again. He seemed so easy, so casual about all of this. I felt anything but. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding and all my concentration centered on where his shoulder touched mine. How was it that something so simple could affect me so much? It didn’t make any sense.
I tried to take notes, but failed. I was too busy watching him.
After what felt like an eternity, class ended and he shoved everything back in his bag.
“You wanna skip the rest of the day and come somewhere with me?”
I didn’t really want to skip class, but if he’d asked me to go to the moon, I probably would have said yes.
“Sure,” I said and he looked like I’d just handed him the stars.
No one had ever looked at me like that before. It thrilled me and scared me in equal parts.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he led me toward the parking lot where his car was parked. He’d suggested we go off-campus and I had to admit that it was a good idea. I didn’t want to go to either of our rooms. Too much temptation and potential for things to happen.
“It’s a secret,” he said with a sly smile. His car definitely wasn’t as nice as mine, but at least it was clean.
“I’m not a fan of secrets,” I said. I meant it as a joke, but the grin dropped and he looked… not happy.
“I can understand that. I’m not sure anyone really likes them, except when they’re things like presents or vacations or marriage proposals.” Something swirled in his green eyes. Something dark and stormy that I didn’t understand.
I thought about asking, but I didn’t think he’d tell me, so I stayed silent.
“You can turn on the radio if you want,” he said, trying to shift my attention away. I reached out and hit the button for the radio and was blasted with classic rock at a high volume.
“Damn, sorry,” Coen said, turning the volume down to a non-earsplitting level. “Change it to whatever you want.”
I flipped around until I found the alternative rock station. They were playing “Like Real People Do” by Hozier and I settled back into my seat, closing my eyes to listen to his voice.
“Do you like him?” Coen asked, and I opened my eyes.
“His voice is something else. He’s so talented,” I said.
“I think so too.” I’d expected him maybe to balk at the music choice, but he hummed along, so he must have heard this song a time or two.
The only sound in the car for the next twenty minutes was the radio. I wanted to ask again where we were going, but Coen seemed to know since he kept making turns and taking exits. We were heading north, but other than that, it was a mystery.
“Are you hungry? We’re almost there, but I thought you might want to eat first.” Eat first? I was so confused.
“Um, yeah. I still have no idea where we’re going.”
“You’ll see.”
I finally got it when I started to see the signs for Acadia National Park. We had to be headed to Bar Harbor. I’d never been there, despite living in Maine my whole life. I was relieved that the place wasn’t tied to any memories. No chance for me to have a freak-out on him and then have to explain why, or come up with some sort of story.
“Why don’t you do a search on your phone and find out if there are any vegan places. The last time I was here we went to a hot dog place, so I don’t think that’s going to work.” Probably not.
I was surprised to find a whole list of options and picked a café based on their menu online.
Bar Harbor could be described with one word: Charming. It was the quintessential Maine town by the sea that looked like a picture postcard from every angle. Even though summer was over, there were still plenty of tourists around and some early leaf peepers. Maine hibernated in the winter, but from May to November there were plenty of people from out of town.
Coen had to drive around a few times to find a parking spot close to the café, but he finally did and came around to open my door for me.
“Thank you,” I said and realized that this felt alarmingly like a date. A real date. Not just friends skipping class together.
I started walking quickly and he trailed after me.
“What’s wrong?” I wasn’t good at hiding my emotions with him. I really needed to work on that.
“Nothing. Just hungry,” I said, putting what I hoped was a cute smile on my face.
He searched my face, but must have bought what I was selling because he answered, “Me too.”
The café was cool and trendy, with art on
the dark red walls and café tables. There was also a bar in the back.
I ordered the vegan Shepard’s Pie and even though they had non-vegan items on the menu, Coen got the same.
“You know I’m not going to stop talking to you if you order something non-vegan,” I said, but he shook his head.
“I like vegan stuff now. It’s healthier, so I figure that’s a good thing. You make my life better.” It was a throwaway comment, but it didn’t feel like that to me. I still wanted to ask him if he thought this was a date. To any outsider, it would appear that way.
He changed the subject and we talked about other things until we finished and then had cake for dessert.
“So this wasn’t our true destination. So where are we going?” I asked, even though I was sure I knew. Coen paid, despite my protests and then we walked back to the car.
“You’ll see, you impatient thing,” he said with a laugh as we headed out of town.
“Wow,” I said, which was an inadequate word, but I couldn’t pull out another one that fit better.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Coen said, standing next to me at the top of Cadillac mountain. “We should hike up sometime.” We should? I looked at him, but he was too busy looking out at the view below us. The buildings in Bar Harbor were just dots and the trees all blended together in varying shades of green. The ocean stretched out beyond, dotted with islands here and there, as if haphazardly dolloped on top of the blue water.
The wind whipped up and I wished he would have told me to bring something more substantial than my thin fall jacket.
“Here,” he said, shrugging off his own leather jacket and laying it on my shoulders. “Sorry, it’s real leather. I hope that’s okay.”
I tried not to notice how the warmth from the jacket (and thus from his body) seeped into my skin while the smell hovered around me. Without thinking, I turned my head just a bit and sniffed the inside of the collar. Heavenly. I put my arms through the sleeves, even though the cuffs went way past my hands. I liked wearing his coat.
“Hey,” he said, and I was distracted from the deliciousness of his jacket by him holding up his phone so we could take a selfie together. I wasn’t sure about it, but he leaned in with his face next to mine and said, “smile!”
I did and he took a few more for good measure. He showed them to me and I realized how pale I was. Like I hadn’t seen the sun in several hundred years.
“Friends take selfies with each other,” he said, although I hadn’t protested.
“Sure,” I said as he fiddled with his phone. A second later my phone buzzed; he’d sent me some of the pictures. They didn’t look too bad, not that I was going to post them anywhere. My Instagram was for poetry only. My profile picture was a steaming cup of tea. I just didn’t like the idea of tons of pictures of me floating around the Internet for everyone to find.
“It’s crazy how beautiful it is here. Sometimes I just stop and look around and it hits me.” I knew he wasn’t originally from Maine, but he was as vague on his backstory as I was on mine, so I didn’t push for fear that he’d push back.
“Yeah. Even when you live here your whole life you forget how beautiful it can be.” We stood in silence for a while longer. We’d come at an odd time, so there were only a few other people up here and they stayed away from us.
I jumped when his arm wound around my shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said standing far too close.
“For what?” I asked.
“For helping me check off one of my bucket list items. Someday I want to go to all the national parks. This is stop number three.” This was the first national park I’d been to. I wasn’t much of a nature girl. I preferred to be inside with a book more than anything.
His fingers squeezed my shoulder and I could feel it, even through the thick leather.
“You’re welcome,” I said and it sounded like a question.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the kiss he placed on my cheek. It was fleeting, but it made me shiver.
“Still cold?” he said, his face right next to mine.
“No,” I whispered, meeting his eyes.
He took that as a signal and kissed me on the mouth. It had barely been twenty-four hours since the last kiss, but the contact stunned me again. Electricity flooded my veins, tingling from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. How could a kiss embody so much?
Of their own volition, my fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer. I could never get close enough to him. Not even if I climbed into his mouth and threw myself down his throat, like Alice into Neverland.
He smiled while we kissed, as if his lips were laughing at me.
“What?” I asked, pulling away.
“Nothing, Ingrid. Absolutely nothing.” His mouth whispered against mine again, soft as could be.
The wind picked up and whipped our hair around us. His curls and my straight strands mingling together.
Our contact sizzled my skin, branding me. I knew as long as I lived, no matter what I did, I would remember how Coen’s kiss felt.
“I can’t believe you’re letting me kiss you,” he said, pulling away again.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you’re you.” I didn’t really know what he was talking about.
“What does that mean?” Was it a compliment?
“It means that I can’t believe I’m here with you and I’m so glad that I am. You’re so special, Ingrid.” I stepped away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as I looked away.
“You think I’m something that I’m not. That’s the problem, Coen,” I said. His jacket suddenly felt too heavy, as if it was dragging me down. I wanted to take it off. I wanted to go back to my room and my silence and days spent without talking to another person.
I started to walk toward the car, but his hand stopped me.
“Please don’t do that. Don’t shut down on me.” I yanked my shoulder away from his grip.
“Let me go, Coen,” I said, and the look on his face nearly broke my heart. Like I’d punched him right in the gut.
“I can’t, Ingrid. I care too much.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to get away.
“I didn’t ask for that,” I said. “I didn’t ask you for anything. You keep showing up and giving me things and you’re always there and I don’t know what to do with you. I didn’t ask for this, Coen. I just wanted to get by alone.” My voice cracked on the last word. If I didn’t slow down, I was going to start telling him all kinds of things that he didn’t need to know.
“I know you didn’t ask for it, but I’m giving it anyway. I can’t not care about you. You’re just…” he trailed off and couldn’t finish. He tore his hand through his hair and his curls sprung back all over the place.
“I’m what, Coen?” I crossed my arms, which was difficult with the thick jacket in the way. I wished I couldn’t still smell him, but I could.
He shook his head and looked out at the beautiful view.
Part of me felt bad for ruining this day, but it was inevitable. I was destined to ruin everything. I’d tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He wouldn’t listen and now here we were.
“Let’s just go,” I said, moving toward the car.
“No. I’m not leaving this mountain until we talk about this. I’m not letting you just run away again. I want to know what spooked you. I want to know why you always pull away. Why you can be so open and here with me one minute and slam the door in my face the next. I want to know, Ingrid.” I started to shake and couldn’t look at him.
“I can’t, Coen. I just can’t.” The words were shattered, broken things and I barely got them out.
“I don’t know what to do with you, Ingrid.” He sounded like he was more frustrated with himself than me. I wasn’t going to apologize for being the way I was. He brought this on himself.
“Well, that’s not my fault. I don’t know what to tell you.” He didn’t blow up at me as I expected
him to. I thought he was going to yell at me, or get in the car and leave me there to fend for myself.
He didn’t do either of those things.
Instead, he just stared at me silently. As if he was waiting for something. Waiting for me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped, but he didn’t look away. He just took one step toward me. I tried to make my feet move, to get me away from him, but they were stuck. Bolted to the dirt.
Coen took another step and then another until he was standing right in front of me. I wanted to back up, but I couldn’t. I wanted to push him away, but I couldn’t do that either. I wanted to do anything but stand there.
He raised his hands to my face and I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. His fingers cupped my cheeks and he looked into my eyes like he was trying to see the bottom of a dark well.
“Don’t tell me you don’t care about me,” he said, his voice very soft.
I opened my mouth to try to tell him he was wrong, but it didn’t work. I couldn’t speak. He must have taken that as an invitation, because kissed me again. I wanted to bite his lip, but I didn’t.
I didn’t do anything but let him kiss me and then kiss him back. I kissed him back and pushed myself into his chest. I hoped he couldn’t feel my heart thrashing.
His kiss was careful, but insistent. Like he was using it to say what he couldn’t with words.
At last, I was able to break away and pull in a gulp of air.
“You can’t just kiss me and think that it’s going to be okay,” I said. He licked his lips and smiled a little.
“No, but it wasn’t going to hurt.”
“Unless I punched you,” I said.
“Still would be worth it,” he said and his lips tipped up in a smile.
“You’re an incurable optimist,” I said and he smiled even bigger.
“Thanks. I take that as a compliment.” I hadn’t meant it as one, but that didn’t seem to bother him in the least. He was buoyant, no matter what. No matter what I said to him, or how I pushed him away, he came back and didn’t seem to be discouraged at all.