I toss the flashlight in his direction on the ground. He blinks twice when he recognizes me. “Lila?” Shock widens his eyes. “I can explain.”
This time I aim directly at his shoes. Pop. Pop. Light blue bleeds over his ex-white sneakers. “I’m going to Florida, Stephen. Do you have a problem with that?”
Headlights flash near the driveway. “Stephen!” yells Luke from the driver’s side. “Let’s go.”
When Stephen hesitates, Luke honks the horn and beats his hand against the door of his car. Stephen glances at me one more time. “Lila—”
“There’re still some white spots on your shoes.” I set my sight on his obsession again.
“I’ll call when you’ve regained sanity,” he huffs as he retreats to his moronic friends.
“I’m shooting you with a paintball gun at midnight,” I shout after him. “I think we left sane behind a couple of days ago.”
When the red taillights of Luke’s car disappear, I drop the paintball gun to the ground, flop down beside it and rest my arms on my bent knees.
From the front of the house, a shadow emerges. Yesterday, I would have lost it if I were outside in the dark with a large figure looming. In fact, yesterday I did just that. Funny how much can change in twenty-four hours.
“You okay?” asks Lincoln.
Let’s see, my best friend has moved on, I’ve conquered my fear of moving away, I shot my pranking ex-boyfriend with a paintball gun and I’m alone with a guy who causes my heart to stutter. “Yeah, I’m great.”
And I mean it. It’s a small yet humongous realization: I’m always going to be scared of something—spiders, the dark, being on my own—but I don’t have to let the fear be in control.
* * *
“...and when I came around the corner, he ran into the door of his car and slammed right onto the ground.” Lincoln’s shoulders move with his laughter as he recaps tonight’s events, and I giggle along with him. We lie next to each other on my bed: me in my pj’s of a tank top and shorts and Lincoln in a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
Our laughter fades and we both stare into the darkness. The chirping of the crickets from the other side of the window fills the silence. My muscles have that good, exhausted jellyfish feel. It’s two in the morning and even though I’m definitely tired enough for sleep, I’m not ready to give up this precious time with Lincoln.
As if reading my mind, he turns his head toward me. “Are you tired?”
“No.” I flip so that I’m facing him and traitorously yawn.
Lincoln chuckles and mirrors my position. He runs his fingers down my arm, starting at the edge of the strap of my tank and ending at the tip of my elbow. I shut my eyes with the exquisite tickle. I inch closer to him and happily sigh when he cups the curve of my waist. It’s a heavy, warm weight that creates the sensation of protection.
“You should go to sleep, Lila.” Good God, his voice is beautiful—deep and smooth.
I shake my head. “I can sleep tomorrow and the day after that. I only have you for a few more hours.” My stomach sinks and I open my eyes. “But you should sleep. You’ve got a long drive in front of you.”
“I should.” Lincoln shifts his head so that his mouth is wickedly near mine. I lick my lips and inhale to steady my breathing. We’ve kissed three times since this afternoon. Each time he’s hypnotized me, and I’m greedy to be captivated again.
I nod. “You should.” But I really don’t want him to—not yet. “Sleep.”
His hand slips to the small of my back and presses so that our bodies now touch. A rush of air escapes my lungs. Holy hell, he’s solid. I allow a hand to skim along his back, and Lincoln smiles with the caress.
“I will,” he says. My skin tingles as his mouth whispers against mine. “Sleep. But not now.”
“No?” I try to ask innocently.
“No.” He brushes his nose along the curve of my neck, and I could almost moan in frustration. I want kisses, lots of kisses, but I also love the slow burn. Lincoln has talent, and my heart beats faster when I think of all the hundreds of ways we could spend our evenings.
He slowly creates a trail along my cheek, and just when I’m on the verge of begging, his lips finally come within butterfly-inducing distance of mine. This is one of my favorite moments: the seconds before the kiss. It’s like dangling on a ledge with gravity pulling me forward and the wind daring me to let go and fly.
Lincoln breathes out and I breathe in. A synchronized movement that causes my mind to disconnect and conscious thought to float away. A nudge forward on his part, a tilt of my head, and then we fall.
His mouth is hot against mine and my hands tangle in his hair in response. Our lips part and our tongues slide together, a delicious slow movement that makes me want to purr like a cat.
Earlier, we let our kisses be just what they needed to be: simple, a sign of trust, a sign of what’s to come, but this feels like more. After the words we’ve said to each other tonight, I’m tempted by more, but I’m not ready to give up that slow burn.
Lincoln draws my lower lip between his, releases it and then lifts his head. The warmth and sincerity in his eyes tells me he’s not ready to leave the slow burn, either. This is why I’m with him, because Lincoln gets me, understands me, possibly more than I understand myself.
“How about one more kiss?” he asks.
“How about more than one?” I counter. “Just a few.”
“A few,” he agrees. His body melts against me and our lips meet again—a warm, building kiss that causes me to arch into him. Beneath his massive body, I feel small, fragile and protected. I’ve never felt so feminine, so in tune with another.
Our movements are soft and deliberate. Fingers exploring skin, lips moving in time, feet rubbing against each other. Until it becomes time for one last kiss. One that will be singed into my memory and will carry over until I can be in his arms again.
Lincoln places his forehead on mine and caresses my cheek. My fingers trace the hollow of his neck, and I enjoy the beat of his heart against my chest.
“We should sleep,” he says.
Unable to speak, I nod. Lincoln rolls onto his back and pulls me so that I’m cradled against him. He kisses the top of my head and combs his fingers through my hair. “Thank you, Lila.”
Words are still hard, but I find the energy to ask, “For what?”
“For helping me find me again.”
I mold myself around him and wonder what our future will look like. Someday distance will no longer be an issue and we’ll have more than just letters—we’ll be together. Who knows...maybe forever.
“You were always in there. You just weren’t looking in the right place.” I pause. He’s not the only one who rediscovered himself this weekend. “Neither one of us were.”
“True,” he agrees and gathers me closer. “But we figured it out.”
I close my eyes and hug my body to his. Two years of letters, two years of redefining myself and two years of falling for my best friend. As I cuddle into Lincoln, I know that I would relive it all in order to experience this moment again.
Lincoln
I think sometimes things we don’t like happen so we can appreciate the good. Like, can I really enjoy a sunrise if I didn’t experience the darkness of night? Without her past, Echo would never have met Noah, and without her losing Aires, I would never have met you. So, yeah, I do mean what I said in the last letter. You are like a sunrise in my life.
~ Lila
Stretched out on her stomach with her face toward me, Lila sleeps. Her tousled hair falls over her shoulder, onto her cheek. I’ve been awake for an hour, watching her. She smiles when she dreams. Twice, little lines formed between her eyebrows and I had to stop myself from smoothing them out. She’s too beautiful to wear worry. I’ll do whatever it takes
to ensure her happiness.
Birds begin to chirp outside Lila’s window—a warning of the impending moment. Soon, I’ll have to say goodbye.
I’ve got a long drive and a lot of work in front of me in order to catch up with Lila. After spending time with her, going back to letters will be difficult, but we also agreed to phone calls and Skype and weekend visits.
I skim my finger against the soft skin of her cheek, and her head angles toward my touch. Her eyes flutter open and her lips edge up when she sees me. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I respond.
Someday I’ll teach her how to climb a rock wall, I’ll introduce her to my parents, let her hold my nephew and I’ll confess my love.
Lila reaches up and smooths the hair near my ear. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
“Same here.”
“I really like you,” she says in a low, sexy tone. And I recognize it, the spark in her eyes. It’s more than like, more than attraction.
“Me, too.”
Her hand glides down to my chest and pauses over my heart. When our eyes meet, I know she notices the spark within me, too. I capture her hand and keep it against my chest as I lean in for a kiss.
“I still expect two letters a week,” she whispers.
Our lips move against each other’s, and in between breaths I say to her, “I’ll send you three.”
Epilogue
October
Lila
In the back of an auditorium lecture hall, my pencil taps repeatedly against my notebook and my eyes flash for the millionth time to my smartphone, willing it to light up. It’s on silent, but I wish it was on foghorn.
A nudge at my foot draws my attention to my right. My friend Jenna nods at the clock and a rush of nervous adrenaline makes the pencil beat faster. Two minutes until class ends and the weekend begins.
Usually, I love Fridays. Lincoln and I chat over Skype before he goes to work, but I haven’t heard from him—in four days. It’s a record. A horrible, horror-show record. I’ve texted him twice. Called and left a message once. Checked the mailbox every day only to find nothing. Willed him telepathically to call me two million times. My pride’s about to take a trip to hell and I’ll call him again if he doesn’t reach out to me soon.
The phone glows to life and the pencil falls out of my hand and drops to the floor, rolling down the step to the row in front of me. I don’t care. My heart thuds as I swipe my finger across the screen and then...I sink down in my seat. Crap. Not Lincoln.
Jenna nudges my foot again. “Lincoln?” she mouths.
I shake my head and mouth back, “Echo.”
My best friend is very happy with the twists and turns of her life. There’s some drama right now with Noah’s foster sister, Beth, and Echo’s been pretty torn up about it. The one thing my relationship with Lincoln has taught me is that distance doesn’t mean a friendship ends. It just means you have to make more of an effort.
I read through the latest news and text Echo back a few encouraging words. Her returned smiley face is enough to warm a small part of my heart. Unfortunately, only an acknowledgment from Lincoln can thaw out the rest.
“Have a great weekend!” Our professor claps his hands once and the auditorium is filled with the sounds of people shifting out of their seats and closing books. Jenna and I gather our stuff and leave.
Florida is hot. Not that Kentucky doesn’t have its fair share of summer weather in October, but there are typically some cool days thrown into the mix. Not in Gainsville. It’s hot every single day.
And I love it.
My body shivers when I leave the air-conditioning of the science building and head toward my dorm.
“Dinner tonight?” Jenna pulls out her keys. We shared the same orientation class and the same fear of not knowing a soul. She’s a commuter, but practically lives in my dorm room.
“Sure.” It’s not like I expect to be talking with Lincoln or anything. My mind replays our last phone conversation, last Skype chat and letters, searching for whatever I said or did wrong that would make him keep his distance.
During a visit here in September, Lincoln took me to the beach; while we lay on a blanket staring at the stars, he told me that he loved me. And I said the words back. My heart swelled to the point of explosion that night. Now it feels as if it’s going to collapse in on itself in heartbreak.
A thought freezes me in midstep and Jenna circles back around when she notices I stopped walking. “What?” she asks.
“What if he’s hurt?” My eyes widen to the point I feel they’ll pop out of my head. “What if he went to go climb and he fell and he’s bleeding and he’s alone and—”
Jenna tilts her head and the pity in her eyes makes me want to smack her. Instead, I begin walking again. Her sandals snap against the sidewalk as she catches up. “Sorry. You know I think he’s great, but it’s been four days and he hasn’t responded at all. I mean, come on, how many long-distance relationships really last?”
I pause at the crosswalk where I turn left to head to the dorms and she turns right to head to her car. I blow out a rush of air. “I love him.”
Jenna now sports a matching oh-how-sad-she-really-thought-this-was-going-to-work smile to highlight the pity-eyes. “We’ll go out tonight. Have a good time. Make you forget him.”
“It’s only been four days,” I answer. He’ll call. He will. Lincoln loves me, and why do I want to cry?
“Hey, Lila!” I look behind me and quickly step out of the way to avoid being pummeled by Bryant on his skateboard. He stops less than a foot away from me and, in a smooth motion, kicks the skateboard up into his hand.
“Bring Melanie to my game tomorrow night.” Bryant’s a sophomore and plays a game meant only for men over two hundred pounds of muscle: rugby. The big, bad dude has a huge, bone-crunching crush on the tiny girl from a small town in Mississippi who shares my dorm room.
Jenna rolls her eyes. “Because Lila possesses the ability to breathe life into the dead.”
“Stop it or I won’t go out tonight,” I tell her. Melanie’s had a rough time transitioning to life in Florida. Jenna doesn’t understand since she still lives at home. Homesickness...it can kill you if you let it, and Melanie is seriously close to coding.
Coding over being away from everyone you love—I get it. I came close to packing my bags a week in, but then Lincoln chatted with me for hours, while I hugged a pillow tight and cried hysterically. He told me I could do it, and I stayed, and he was right. I’m strong enough to live away from home and pursue my dreams.
Jenna backs away, all smiles. “Then I’m leaving before I say something else. See you tonight.”
We both watch her leave, and then I watch as Bryant spins a wheel on his board.
“You okay?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’m scared Melanie’s going to go home.”
I bite the inside of my lip. “Me, too.” I like Melanie. A lot. And I really don’t want her to give up, because she’ll regret it. Just like I would have regretted staying in Kentucky or heading home after a week.
Bryant drops the board and places one foot on it. “Just bring her to the game, okay?”
I nod and he rolls away.
Melanie doesn’t see it, and I was also oblivious until I made the decision to stay. Almost everyone on campus feels scared and alone when they move into the dorms. Each and every smile is forced and faked. Yeah, there’s excitement, but there’s fear of the unknown, too. I sort of wish I had a paintball gun in my dorm room. Maybe Melanie would feel better if she could pop a couple of paintballs into her fear.
A welcome wind blows through the trees, and I wipe at the sweat forming on my forehead. If everything is going to hell for me and Lincoln, at least he gave me a great memory and lesson to hold on to forever: I’m strong and I’m goi
ng to stay strong.
I shove my cell into the back pocket of my shorts and head to the dorms. A plan. I need a plan. Plans make everything better. I’ll go out with Jenna tonight. Maybe drag Melanie. Homework tomorrow, then Bryant’s game, kidnapping Melanie if I have to. Then Sunday, if there’s still nothing from Lincoln...I’ll call his home phone.
I enter my dorm and wave at a few girls hanging out in the lobby as I head to the mailboxes. Two I like, but one’s a gossip who I hate. Unfortunately, some high school crap doesn’t get left behind.
I stop breathing when I notice an envelope in the slot. My hand pulls at the ends of my hair, creating a little pain. It’s from Lincoln. It has to be. No one else mails me anything.
All of a sudden all the fear and insecurity I’ve fought over the past couple of days slams into me and my hands begin to shake. It could be good news. It could be...or it could be bad.
I unlock the small door and slip the letter out of the slot. It’s his handwriting. I stare at it. Deciding. Open it here or in my room? Here or in my room? Unable to wait, I slide my finger underneath the lid of the envelope, not caring about the stinging paper cut.
The envelope falls from my hand as I yank open the paper. I blink. Several times. And read the two words again: Turn Around.
I spin on my toes, the world rotating twice at the normal speed. My heart rockets up to my throat—it’s Lincoln.
With his hands shoved into his jeans pockets and his thumbs sticking out, Lincoln leans back against the opposite wall and flashes a small, unsure smile. Oh, my God...he’s here.
With three leaps, I throw myself at him, and because he’s made of solid steel, Lincoln catches me without stumbling back. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me off the floor. I giggle as my feet sway back and forth.
“Why didn’t you call?” I don’t bother pulling away when he sets me back on the floor. Instead I cuddle my head into the curve of his neck and inhale to smell his dark scent. He’s here, but then I flinch as if jolted with electricity. What if he’s not here to see me...? What if...?