Page 27 of The Cost of Forgetting You

“What’s so funny?” Lucy clicks the release on her seat belt, and as it retracts, her exposed midsection comes back into view.

My dick strains against the seam of my jeans. I shake my head. I have no room to judge my friends. Reaching for the door, all I can do is hope the dark is enough to hide my reaction to her. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go catch up with the guys.”

Jed whistles as we approach. “Well I’ll be damned. You actually made it!” He punches Lucy’s shoulder gently when she comes within reach. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

My stomach flips over. I open my mouth to jump to her defense and tell my friend to shut the fuck up, but then my gaze finds Lucy’s, and I’m speechless.

Her chest has puffed up with pride, another wide smile gracing her soft features. Her eyes reflect the firelight like a stone warmed by the sun. “I didn’t either. But I owe it all to my getaway driver.”

My answering smile only brightens hers more, and it sends a twinge of hope down my spine. Maybe she likes me, too.

“D’you want a beer?” Derell asks, leaning around Jed with a can in hand. He shakes it a little. “Got ’em from my dad’s stash.”

“Oh, um.” She worries at her bottom lip, staring at the drink intently.

I step closer, touching my fingertips to her elbow. “You don’t have to, you know.”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. When her tongue flicks out to soothe her own bite, every thought I’ve ever had empties from my useless head. The fire cracks and pops to my left, warming that side of my body. Our classmates laugh and shout and chatter, but all that falls away till there’s only Lucy. And her lips. And her tongue.

“I want to,” she says, breaking the spell. Derell plops the can into her outstretched hand, and it hisses to life beneath her fingers. When the first sip hits her tongue, she turns to me with her nose scrunched up. “Wow, that is disgusting. How do you drink that stuff?”

“He doesn’t,” Jed and Derell quip in sync.

I keep my eyes on her. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Another sip. The wince is bigger this time, and so cute my heart seizes. “Why not?”

I shrug. “Not my thing.”

This time when she takes a swig, it results in a whole-body shiver. She holds the beer out to Derell. “I don’t think it’s my thing either.”

He laughs, his white teeth flashing. “No judgment.” Jed offers his can for a toast, and Derell knocks the discarded beer against it. “More for us.”

“More for you,” Lucy chimes, and she doesn’t sound sad about it. When she looks up at me, several strands of blonde hair cling to her cheeks. “Thank you for bringing me.”

I decide for once in my life to be a little brave. With a gingerly brush of my hand, I sweep the tresses off her face, all the while committing the softness of her skin to memory. “Anytime.”

We don’t stay long at the party. It’s late, and the cold gets more unbearable the longer you’re in it. There’s also an underlying frenetic energy zapping my nerves as time stretches on, putting us at more and more risk of Lucy’s parents discovering her absence. After ensuring Jed’s good enough to drive (he stopped after two beers) and that Derell is keeping an eye on our lovestruck friend (he blearily assures me he is), I usher Lucy to the passenger door of my truck. She takes my hand as she climbs in, and I commit the feeling to memory.

My tires crunch back over those discarded cans, announcing my exit. I follow the well-worn path through the tall grass back to the highway, glancing both ways before turning left toward town.

“Thank you again for tonight,” Lucy says, her normally melodic voice raspy from the cold. She shifts in her seat, hugging herself tighter. “I never thought I’d get to go to a real party.”

Sadness pings in my heart. Sure, no parent loves the idea of their kid getting drunk somewhere in a field. But mine have always given me the freedom to go out and make those choices for myself, trusting that I’d do right by them when the time came. And I have. I always have.

But Lucy has never even had the chance. She dutifully serves at church, gets better grades than most of our class, and spends her weekends taking care of her younger siblings. And yet, in all that, she still dreams. In our notes she tells me about the places she’d like to visit when she’s finally able to move out. She says she’ll come to Nashville and watch me play. Maybe even sing along to my music.

Suddenly my throat is thick with yearning, though I don’t have that word for it yet. Instead, in some corner of my mind, I file it away under Lucy’s name, because it’s an emotion I’ll always associate with her.

“Can you pull over real quick?”

“Huh?” I ask, startled from my reverie.

Lucy points to the shoulder. “Pull over there, by those trees.”

I do as she asks, shifting into park as soon as we’re stopped. “Are you okay?” My hand finds hers in the dark, and our gazes do the same. “You’re not gonna be sick, are you?”

Her head shakes. Slowly my eyes adjust, and I see that her bottom lip is trembling. The air around us grows heavy and electric, pricking my skin in a thousand places. She’s looking at me—I mean really looking—the way I did that day in the sanctuary when I realized just how much she was capable of. My spine straightens and I swallow, unsure if my voice will be there when I reach for it to speak.

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