Page 28 of Don't Take the Girl


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"London Hale, I never would have pegged you for a hopeless romantic."

"Yeah, well, the craziest thing happened eight years ago. I met this girl who proposed to me the first time we hung out. It turns out she was my soulmate, and now I'm living a fairy tale. Grand gestures are effortless, and the passion is all-consuming. If this is the face of a hopeless romantic, I'll wear it proudly because I don't want anything that doesn't feel like what I have when I'm with her."

I bite my lip, but my ridiculous smile can't be contained. He does a double-take and quickly kisses my lips. "London?—"

"Hey, is that the guy?" he cuts me off and nods out the passenger side window as he slows enough to catch a glimpse of the man who's been seen around town wearing a long, dark trench coat.

Willow Creek starts to see tourists pass through this time of year, so seeing an unfamiliar face doesn't raise flags. What has people paying attention, aside from his mussed hair, dark sunglasses, and oddly timed wardrobe, given the warmth that's already started to set in, is the fact that he walks everywhere. He's lurked down every street, almost like he's looking for something or someone, but he never asks for directions or stops to talk to anyone. He's just there, watching. His head pivots our way asLondon slows, and his dark eyes connect with mine for a second, sending a chill down my spine.

My hand grips London's thigh. "Drive," I mutter through clenched teeth, fearful the eerie man might read lips.

The last thing I want is for him to haunt my street again. That happened once last week. It felt like something straight out of a Michael Myers movie, minus the mask and unnerving thriller music. Sydney dropped me off after school, per usual, but it was Tuesday, and this semester, her father started pulling her into the family business, so she had to go straight home. It wasn't until I got to my front porch that movement out of my peripheral vision caught my eye. He stood at the end of my street, leaning against the stop sign, smoking a cigarette, and watching my every move.

I wanted to haul ass inside my front door and lock the door, but I didn't. I didn't want him to see my fear. So, I did what my mother always told me to do if someone was following me. I looked him straight in the eye and made sure he knew I was aware he was there. I wasn't going to cower. I wasn't going to show weakness. I wasn't going to become bait. I held his gaze for a count of ten and then walked inside, seemingly unfazed, before closing the door, locking it, and rushing to the back door to do the same. I was thoroughly unnerved.

Even with London beside me now, the guy gives me the creeps.

"Remember what I said. Don't sneak out tonight, and as much as I hate to say it, I need you to close your curtains, Laney. Something's off about that guy, and I don't like it. Maybe we shouldn't stop for ice cream."

I'm quiet, still rattled from sharing another locked gaze with a stranger who has the entire town on edge. But the second we turn down Palomino, we see the parking lot packed with cars and teenagers wearing prom dresses and tuxes. This must be where the after-party went.

"We have to stop now. You crashed my prom, showing up inthe parking lot, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. We can't miss the after-party. Plus, I see Sydney's Jeep."

He pulls into the parking lot and finds a spot on the side of the building. When he opens the door, I slide out on his side, anxious to see Sydney and hear what I missed tonight, but then he opens the back door.

"Here, put this on," he says, pulling his letterman's jacket from the backseat.

"I thought you liked my dress," I say coyly.

He drapes the jacket over my shoulders before pulling me flush against his front. "I more than like you in this dress. I love it. You in this dress is scarred into my mind, never to be forgotten, but it dropped a few degrees, and you're not wearing a bra."

His lips brush over mine softly, and I let my insides melt from the tenderness, soaking in the moment and relishing it for its inexpressible charm before dipping my tongue in for more. One kiss, one touch, will never be enough, because I've lived a life of what feels like stolen moments, always moving, always onto the next, never knowing when one could become my last. His tongue caresses mine the same way it did back at the lake, slow and unhurried, as though time is on our side, and we have forever to kiss under the stars. It's that thought that reminds me we don't—at least not yet, anyway.

His lips fall away, and my heart aches. Cupping my cheek, he says, "You're breaking my heart every time you look at me like that, heartbreaker. I'm not going anywhere. Where you are is the only place I want to be. We have until Friday, and then it's just a few short weeks until we're back together at Stanley."

"You promised we weren't going to talk about this," I remind him.

"I'm not. We're not. I only want to see you happy, and I can't tell if you really believe I don't love this dress on you or if you're having a hard time obeying your own rules."

He's right, and I hate it. I hate that I can't pretend I'm not moving this Friday. I should be happy I at least got to stay inWillow Creek through graduation. I should be grateful for the summers I had with Sydney, Fisher, and London, but this summer was supposed to be ours. One summer to finally be the young, carefree couple I dreamed we'd be. The last summer before reality hits, and we're college students. Technically, London is a year ahead of me, but his dad doesn't make him work since he's going to Stanley on a full scholarship and taking a full course load. His only responsibilities this summer are chores—the same ones he's always had—and I'd planned on being glued to his side for all of them. Chopping wood to dry out for fall fires, mowing the lawn, and long, lazy days spent beside the lake, picking the best fishing spot and swimming out to the floating dock when the water got too warm and the fish stopped biting. Me and him, that's what it was supposed to be, and now it will be just me—alone—again.

What I can't believe is my mother isn't moving closer to Stanley, where I'll be attending school in the fall. Instead, she's leaving the state of Texas and heading out west to California, which shocked the hell out of me. It makes zero sense with how close we are, but London is right. I'm not playing by my own rules by letting what's to come steal what time we have here and now.

"You're right. I'm sorry." I shake my head and raise up on my heels for a kiss.

His hands frame my face. "Don't be sorry. You have nothing to apologize for, especially when wearing my jacket. I like seeing you wear my things, especially ones with my last name printed in big letters across the back," he says before pressing his lips to mine once more, his hand drifting down my back to grip my ass. "Come on, if you want ice cream, we'd better get it before I change my mind and take you home instead. I'm selfish, and I don't care about sharing you with the world tonight."

I fist his shirt in my hands and steal one last peck. "Let's go. I'll be quick," I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him along only for him to spin me over to his left.

"Why do you always do that?" I laugh, swatting his chest playfully.

"The sidewalk rule?" He grins, eyebrows raised.

"What's that?"

"You seriously don't know this?" his voice peaks with amusement, like I’ve just told him I’ve never heard of birthdays.

"Enlighten me, oh wise one."