A moment later, Easton, with Truman in his passenger seat, pulled up in front of the house, along with Wyatt in his own truck. Ava rode with Easton and Truman to go pick up Dorcas and some other girl. Kate and Harley rode with Wyatt to pick up even more of Ava’s friends across town. Harley rode in the back, still trying not to seem obvious. Kate never noticed the glances Wyatt was giving Harley in the rearview mirror, but Harley felt the heat of want in each one slide through her body.
At the shopping center, everyone was dropped off at the door while the trucks were parked because it was raining.
“They must be afraid you were going to melt Miss Priss,” Dorcas taunted.
Harley turned to face her; the rain had not only made the foundation Dorcas had layered on her cheeks look like bullet holes, it had also managed to make her eyeliner run. Harley reached her finger for Dorcas’ cheek, pulled away her thumb, which was now covered in black. “I’m not the one melting.”
Dorcas gasped and took off for the corner of the overhang and pulled out her mirror. Moments later, Wyatt, Easton and Truman could be seen running across the parking lot, laughing as they did so.
Just to ensure that Dorcas had no grounds for gossip, Harley went off on her own more than a few times. When she was with the group, she managed to keep a placid expression when she saw Dorcas lean into Wyatt and hackle a fake laugh at something he had said.
When it was time for the movies to start, Wyatt let out a warning to his sister not to leave the center and to be outside at eleven-forty sharp or he was going to leave her there.
Harley had picked a movie she knew Ava would hate, that the boys would hate. She even smiled when Ava told her that only she could find a way to be alone when she was supposed to be hanging out with everyone.
Wyatt made out like he was following Easton, but he hit the first exit door he could find so he could retrieve his truck. Harley lingered with Ava a few minutes longer, even walked with all of them to their theater, before acting like she was going to hers.
She stood in the hallway to the door she was supposed to enter for a minute or two, listened for the girls down the hall, then dove around the corner and nearly jogged down the dim hallways, looking for the exit she and Wyatt always snuck out of.
He was there as soon as she opened the door, leaned across the truck to open her door and help her in. It was pouring constant sheets of rain.
Wyatt brought their laced hands together, let his lips kiss her flesh. “You want to go up there?”
He was content just to drive around or park in the back of the parking lot, but without a doubt he wanted to use these stolen hours to hold her, at least let his lips run across her.
“I do,” she breathed.
His hand tightened around hers just before he let it go and shifted gears.
The thought of this hilltop had always made Harley’s heart race. It seemed like every major first happened up there, the awkwardness of it. They would always find a way to perfect whatever line they crossed in the hayloft or on the creek side later, but this was the place they had come the closest to being flesh to flesh. It was almost poetic that this night had found a way to exist.
Wyatt parked the truck deep in the shadows of the hilltop and turned out all the lights; even if someone else dared to come up there, they would see them first. Wyatt doubted anyone would come up, though. This place was meant to be used to see the stars, or the distant hills when they changed colors; you couldn’t see anything tonight, not under this canopy of rain.
He nodded to the back seat in a silent question. When she smiled, he stepped out, then got in the back seat through the passenger door. He was far too tall to climb over the seat, but Harley wasn’t; she had glided over just as he slid into his seat. Wyatt’s build could have contributed to the awkward moments they had in this truck. He was too tall to lie all the way down - his shoulders were broader than the seat - but they both knew no matter how awkward it had been in the past, they had no issues finding their way to the positions they wanted to be in.
Wyatt pulled out a plastic square from his pocket. One glance was all Harley needed to know what it was, and she felt adrenaline rush to every inch of her skin. Wyatt set it on the console. “When we get carried away, I’m not going to be able to think, Harley, to doubt the way I feel. I need you to make this choice. I need you to tell me for sure you’re ready.”
She glanced to it, then met his eyes. She was terrified and excited at the same time, felt like she was standing on some massive ledge that she was about to jump off - and once she did, she would never be the same again...they would never be the same again.
That vulnerability was in his blue eyes once more, that question. She leaned into him, let her eyes dance across his face just before her lips met his.
The kiss he returned was powerful, full of the seduction they were well practiced at. She barely noticed the tremble, didn’t really pick up on it until he laid her back and her hand rushed across his chest; that was when she felt his heart thundering, more so than ever before.
Every few seconds, she would forget what they were there for. In her mind, he was driving her wild, as he always did. That’s what she told herself as he urged her dress up, past her waist, past her chest, as his kisses fell across her balmy skin. That was what she told herself as she pushed his shirt up, as she fumbled with his buckle, the button on his jeans.
When the thought that at any second they could cross this line would come, that fire he brought to her would be doused in fear; it was the fear that she would do it wrong, that it would hurt, that it would ruin them, that a million things could go wrong.
Somehow he would feel that, and with his skilled hands, those practiced fingertips, he would cause her to forget the question that was lingering over them.
That dance, that passionate make out session they had mastered long ago, went on for close to an hour before he slid her panties down; she knew he wasn’t making this choice for them, that he was content to let them dance on this ledge, was sure of it when his lips started to move down her body. Just as they reached her hips, her hand lurched to the side and grabbed that cold square wrapper and slid it in his hand. He froze; his lips, his hands, they all stilled. From the edge of her hips, he looked up at her, his blue eyes finding a way to gleam in the night; it was a question. She squeezed her hand around his and held her breath, even glanced away as he sat up and she heard the plastic tear.
Even when she told herself to breathe, to just be there now, to focus on him, the sensation, breaths were few and far between, her skin was on fire, she felt adrenaline saturating every muscle.
“Baby, I think you have to relax. It might hurt worse if not,” he said as his hands moved up her sides.
She didn’t want to respond, didn’t want to talk about the mechanics of this, what her body was going to go through; instead, she reached for his face, pulled him into a sweet kiss, and did her best to move herself around him, even reached to help him for a second.
When it began, relaxing was not an option. She felt invaded, felt like her body was dividing in two; it was agony. She knew it was not supposed to be good the first time, but she expected the pain to be sweet, worth it.
Just as they became one, he stilled above her and she felt his hand caress her face. “Okay?” he asked with a rasp.
She nodded stiffly. “Just go slow,” she said as evenly as she could.
And he did, he moved as slow as possible, feeling the pain, too, feeling her body tense to the point where her flesh was hard as a rock. He felt her every tremble.
His hands moved down her sides, moved to all the places, in all the ways, that had always relaxed her before. “You’re safe…let go,” he whispered.
It was his voice, not his touch, those few words that he always said to her when he saw past the surface of who she tried to be, when he told her to relax, to trust him, that eased her.
She began to move her hands down his back, tighten her legs around him. She had almost decided
the pain might have a sweet sensation to it when Wyatt pulled away.
His lips met hers, and he pulled a deep kiss from her as he backed up in the cab. He stepped out of the truck in the rain and was gone long enough for Harley to catch her breath and take inventory of her body, of the lingering pain, of the idea that somehow she had left that night a girl and was coming back a woman. For the briefest of seconds, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a woman. She didn’t regret a moment of that, but she was afraid, a million ‘what if’s ran through her mind as she pulled her clothes together.
Wyatt climbed back in the truck, reached for her, and pulled her on his lap. “You okay?” he asked. She nodded against his chest, even lifted her head so that she could kiss his neck. She could still feel his heart racing.
“I love you, Harley.”
“You are the only one I ever could love…”
They still had thirty minutes before they had to leave. The first twenty, they didn’t speak; he just held her and feathered kisses across her forehead.
“Tell me you don’t regret it, even if you have to lie,” he finally said to her.
She lifted her head, met his eyes. Dared to smile. “I don’t. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make Ava beg you for another move night as soon as possible, maybe the creek, but it might be muddy. We could try the barn again. I honestly don’t think Truman would wake up if I snuck in your apartment.”
A smile burst across his face; he knew that was what she was looking for. “I will steal any moment you want. Nothing can keep us apart. We’re too real.”
Her lips were on his before the word ‘real’ managed to make it completely out. For an instant, they lost control, let their hands run wild, but when he felt her tense, when the shadow of the pain she went through expressed itself, he slowed them down.
“I’m fine,” she swore with a laugh.
He had his doubts, but he didn’t say a word. Wyatt didn’t ask Easton for a play-by-play or anything, but Easton told him enough, told him to be careful, slow, not to expect any kind of fireworks, not this time. Not to freak if she freaked. All that was fine and good for Wyatt; he just could not stand the idea of her in any pain, to be the cause of it.
“We have to go. For all I know, Dorcas went hunting for you, figured out you were gone, then went looking for me,” Harley said, moving from his lap.
“Fuck her,” Wyatt said as he helped her over the seat. “What are they going to do? Tell me I can’t see you next summer?”
Wyatt got out and moved to the driver’s seat, so he never saw Harley’s face fall, the smile she used to cover it by the time he put the truck in gear. Harley knew without a doubt her mother was a vindictive bitch, that she would do whatever she could to hurt the Dorans, hurt Harley - all for the fact that Harley could have or did shame her family. Wyatt may not be afraid to deal with his family, may even know that no matter what upset popped up, he could handle it, but it wasn’t the same for Harley. Not at all.
“We still have to be careful. I’m still trying to fix next summer, even the fall and spring breaks. I know I could tell my dad, even your mom, that you need to come up and work with Danny Boy a few days.”
“Does that mean I get to wear a cool butler outfit?” he quipped.
When she didn’t smile, he reached for her hand. “Still careful. I swear. I don’t care if they tell me I can or cannot come up there. I have my own truck, I’ll be over eighteen. I’ll find a way to see you, even if I have to fly overseas. I’m not afraid to fight for you, Harley.”
“It just has to be a silent fight right now,” she said.
All she meant by that was with her mother, her family, it was better to fight behind the scenes, to strike when no one saw it coming, when you had power, reason, and planning on your side. But Wyatt thought he heard that she always wanted him to be her secret. That hurt. Not bad enough to make him walk away, but bad enough to doubt. This was one of the times when she felt a million miles away, even though she was right next to him.
Chapter Six
Sleep didn’t come to Harley that night. She had taken a long bath that night, soaking her body, thinking the entire time that the pair of them had doubled the risk they were taking, thinking through all the ‘what if’s. She and Wyatt didn’t talk through most of them on the way back to the theater¸ but he did, in his own way, say that he had used every precaution he could have, that in his mind it would be a miracle for them to have created something that would have changed their lives forever.
He even asked in a roundabout way what protection she thought she could get. Harley knew going to a doctor would be out of the question. The risk of her mother figuring out that they had crossed that line was too great.
Her ride the next day was horrible; she was sore. Camille all but cursed her through the entire lesson, even told her that obviously going to the movies was bad for her skill level, that she apparently needed rest. That night, there was no chance of sneaking out. Camille seemed far too curious as to why Harley’s ride had shifted so badly, so quickly.
The next day, though, Wyatt met her early that morning, gave her a slow, tender kiss before they ever bothered to fix the feed for the horses. “You all right today?”
“It was not getting sleep; nothing else,” she swore.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’m going to ride Danny Boy first today.”
She gave in to that request, even though it made her feel weak. She knew her horse was not a ride that anyone could master in a short time, but it made her mad that she still needed the strength of Wyatt to control him.
Wyatt was off Danny Boy before his mother made it to the ring.
“Let’s see if we can not waste anyone’s time today,” she said as she laid the lunge line on the fence.
As Wyatt helped Harley mount, his hand brushed across hers on the reins, the other across her calf.
“Remember, he feels the slightest tension. He’s going to give you what you ask for, soft hands, strong legs, breathe. You’re safe.”
She nodded and squeezed her legs. The first part of the lesson was awkward, as it always was after a bad lesson with Camille. She was always harder the next go round, gave no praise until you went beyond the level where you should be. Before long, she was nodding her head. “That’s it, I’ll have to make sure your father knows you need ten hours of sleep at night and that movies are bad for your health,” she quipped.
Harley was so stoked about her ride that day that she was the one that found a moment with Wyatt. She had gone up to his apartment to get her lunch out of his kitchen fridge a second after she heard Camille tell him to bring down a bucket of ice. Harley slammed him against the wall, moved her hands across his chest, and reached up for his lips. He grasped her legs and pulled them around him, then moved her against the wall. They only had a second, but he still rocked against her, let his hands wisp by all his favorite curves.
“Creek tonight?” he asked in a husky breath as he ended their kiss. They usually avoided the creek for days after a hard rain, but there had been two days of punishing heat, so the bank was sure to be dry enough. Even if it wasn’t, he didn’t care; in fact, as far as he was concerned they could stay in the golf cart.
“No matter how late,” she said as she grabbed her lunch and ran down the stairs before anyone could bother to miss her.
Dinner was a grill out that night. Beckett had cooked enough for an army to arrive. All of Ava and Truman’s friends were over again. Memphis even showed in the middle of it, but no one stayed the night.
By ten, most had left. Harley stayed in her room. She could hear Camille on the phone down the hall. It sounded like she was talking to Harley’s mom, only because her tone was sharp and she was using terms that she knew would be lost on Claire Tatum, horse terms at least. Basically, Camille was saying that it was not her issue that Claire was on a tight schedule, that skill, horses, and riders had their own.
Harley knew that meant her mother was arguing that Danny Boy was
going home to New York in a few weeks, that Harley’s mother had found even more trainers for Camille to meet. Apparently, the last two Camille had shut down before they ever opened their mouths.
Knowing that pushed Harley to want to escape, lose herself in Wyatt even more. Normally, she would wait an hour after she heard a voice or TV before she would dare to sneak out, but not tonight; she flashed her flashlight in Wyatt’s window across the way not long after she heard Camille end her call.
A few minutes later, she was climbing down the side of the balcony.
Wyatt wasn’t expecting Harley’s signal as early as it came. It was only by chance that he was even looking that way in the first place. From his apartment, he could see the lamp in his mom’s room still on, but he came anyway - ran, actually, because he thought something was wrong.
By the time he helped Harley down, it was too late to tell her that his mom was still up. They were better off running into the darkness and holding on to the hope that his mom would not check on Harley. She hadn’t in three summers, so their chances were pretty strong on that front.
They ran through the shadows, found the golf cart Wyatt had hidden earlier that day, and took off.
“What happened? It’s early,” he asked her once they were almost to the creek.
She couldn’t tell him that she was sure she was losing her argument, that there was a ninety-nine percent chance that she and Danny Boy were leaving in less than three weeks. The words hung in her throat.
Instead, she slid next to him. “I wanted every second with you, even if I had to steal a few.”
He knew that wasn’t it but gave in to the moment. They could find a way to argue, even worry together around others. Moments like this, they had to take when they came.
He laid out the blanket like he always did, expected to lay there and count the stars with her, maybe even find a way to plot around this hell before him, but before he even knelt down her lips were on his. Her kiss went deep fast, and her hands were grabbing, moving at the speed of light as they raced across his chest, his waist, lower.