Page 75 of Meet Me in the Blue

It had been over a month since we’d gotten back from Vancouver. Luka had officially moved in with me a couple of weeks ago. His presence in this home, our home, had shaken that unknown thing, that something missing, that lonely ghost from the foundation and walls. We’d found our way back to old routines, breakfasts at The Early Bird, and counting stars in the waning blue hour. But even so, every morning was like a fresh start, and every night I’d fall asleep, dreamless, and safe in his arms, knowing more about myself, about him, and about the way our bodies had been made for each other.

“Mmm,” he hummed, nuzzling his nose into my neck, sending a riot of goose bumps along my spine. “I did. Nora bought that place she’s been eyeing for the last two weeks and had to tell me in person.”

“The one on Elm?”

“Yeah.” He squeezed me tighter. “The fixer upper.”

“Oh.”

I felt the warmth of his breath on my neck as he laughed. “I already know we’ll be over there every weekend for the rest of our lives helping her renovate. She’s already started making plans, and you know how much my sister can get carried away. If it wasn’t for my mom, I would have never gotten out of there tonight. Nora would have held me hostage in the den with all those design magazines she’s been hoarding her entire life. Anyway, I made it out alive.” He leaned over my shoulder and inhaled. “Wow, that smells amazing. What are you making?”

“Tacos,” I said and set the wooden spatula on the side of the pan. As I turned to give him a proper kiss, Maribelle barked at the lack of attention. Luka smiled, his cheeks tinged with pink, his hair damp with spring rain. “You need an umbrella,” I said and melted my mouth over his. His lips were chilled, but warmed up quickly as his tongue dove into my mouth.

His hands skated under my t-shirt and skirted around my hips to rest at the small of my back. “I have an umbrella,” he said and nibbled my bottom lip. “I just forgot to use it.”

“You should leave one in your car.”

“Meh… it’s fine.” He pressed quiet kisses along my jaw, below my ear. “I kind of like playing in the rain.”

“You always did,” I said as my hands slid along the curve of his spine. This is what I’d always wanted, this delicate intimacy, these everyday moments where we couldn’t stop touching each other. And there didn’t have to be an ending. I could be like this, with him, hands on skin, andhow was your day, and lips that tasted like sweet mint, and never feel unsatisfied. We’d fallen in love sometime between then and now, between the pages of our youth and climbing trees and the touch of his hand in mine and the heartache of missing each other. We’d found a way to this, to these familiar days and nights, and I couldn’t be happier.

My lips spread into a smile against his mouth. “Remember how you used to drag me outside for every storm, and I went even though I hated it?”

“Wait…” He planted his hands on my chest and stared at me in disbelief. “You hate the rain? Since when?”

“I don’t hate the rain,” I admitted. “I just hate being wet and cold and—”

“Our entire childhood is a lie.” His gasp was all drama and I cracked up. “I’m glad you can laugh at this charade you called friendship.”

He was teasing, but I loved getting him riled up. “How many times did you suffer throughThe Sandlotfor me?” I asked. His eyes widened, and a full-bodied laugh broke from my chest. “Now who’s the liar?”

“I didn’t hate it,” he said, and I pinched his hip.

“Luka… You mocked the movie every time we watched it… or fell asleep.”

“It was a shit movie.” He dropped his forehead to my shoulder. “So overrated.”

I ran my palm down the back of his neck. “Ahh… The things we do for the people we love.”

His laugh stuttered and his smile dimmed enough I noticed as he wriggled from my hold. Maribelle took that as an opportunity to push her way between us. “I better give her some attention before she chews another pair of my shoes in a jealous rage.” He bent down to the dog’s level and scratched her behind the ears, avoiding my eyes as he said, “I… uh… got an email from Dale.”

I could hear the meat sizzling in the pan behind me, smell the slightly smoky scent of it burning, but I was powerless to move. “Dale.”

He stood, and Maribelle trotted off to sleep under the table. Luka wouldn’t look at me as he washed his hands in the sink. “Yeah. Nothing really… Just an email relaying how much Reese’s team manager liked the article we ran inThe Herald,and that he loved the photos we’d picked.”

“That’s good, right?”

He stared out the window above the sink, inhaling a tight breath. “It is.”

“Then why do you sound upset?”

He wiped his hands with a dishrag I’d left on the counter and turned toward me, forcing a smile I knew better than to believe. “I’m not… I just remembered Nora volunteered us to help move her shit to the new house next weekend. She’s unbelievable.”

“I’m sure my dad will let us borrow his truck,” I offered, ignoring his not-so-subtle change in subject. “But what else did the email say?”

“Rook, the meat is—”

“Shit.” Annoyed that he was clearly diverting, and that dinner was possibly ruined, I moved the pan from the heat and dropped it against the stove with a little more force than was necessary.

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