My hands find her waist, pulling her closer, and she comes willingly, spreading her legs wider like we're seventeen again and have all the time in the world. Her fingers tangle in my hair, nails scraping against my scalp in a way that makes me groan against her mouth.
"God, I missed this," she breathes against my lips.
"Which part?" I ask, trailing kisses along her jaw toward the spot just below her ear that always made her shiver.
"All of it." Her voice is shaky now, and I can feel her pulse racing under my lips. "The way you touch me, the way you smell, the way you make me feel like I'm the only person in the world."
I pull back to look at her, this woman who's been the center of my universe since I was fifteen years old. Every night when I would say my prayers in that godforsaken hellhole, I'd pray that she wasn't hurting nearly as much as I was. Her hair is mussed from my hands, her lips swollen from my kisses, and she's looking at me like I hung the moon.
"You are," I tell her, meaning it. "You always have been."
She kisses me again, harder this time, with more urgency. Her hands slip under my T-shirt, fingernails dragging across my chest, and I have to bite back a curse. We're not kids anymore,but sitting in this truck with her hands on me, it feels like we could be.
"We should probably head back," she says, even as she's pressing closer to me.
"Probably." But I don't make any move to start the truck. Instead, I slide my hands up her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin cotton of her shirt.
"You think people will wonder where we were going? We did drive down Main Street to head out here."
"Let them wonder."
She laughs, and the sound vibrates against my chest where she's pressed against me. "You're terrible."
"You love it."
"I do," she admits, and the honesty in her voice makes my chest tight. "That's the problem."
I tilt her chin up so she has to look at me. "It doesn't have to be a problem."
"Doesn't it?" Her eyes are serious now, searching mine. "We're not those kids anymore, Quinn. We can't just drive around in your truck and pretend the last fifteen years didn't happen."
"I'm not asking you to pretend anything." I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, swollen from my kisses. "I'm just asking you to be here with me. Right now. In this moment."
She studies my face for a long time, like she's memorizing it. "What happens tomorrow?"
"I don't know."
"What happens when we have to face the real world again?"
"I don't know that either."
She nods slowly, like that's the answer she expected. "At least you're honest."
The sun is setting now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. In the distance, I can hear the sound of a train whistle,the same sound we used to listen to when we were young and full of dreams we thought we'd never lose.
"We should go," she says again, but she doesn't move.
"Yeah." I don't move either.
We sit there in the gathering dusk, wrapped around each other in the cab of my old truck, listening to country music and pretending that this moment could last forever. Just like we used to do when we were seventeen and stupid enough to believe in forever.
But we're not seventeen anymore, and forever is a promise neither of us is ready to make again. All we have is right now, and maybe that's enough.
For now.
8
Cecily
