Page 68 of No One But Us

We walk into town together the next morning to get coffee. I watch as she sips her latte, wishing I could catalogue all the things about her face that I love. Like the gold flecks in her eyes, the way her upper lip is slightly fuller than the lower—wistful until she smiles. It’s been five hours since she slipped off to her bedroom last night, and already, watching her, I’m back to feeling like I’ve gone a year withoutsex.

We walk home, and my hand twitches with the desire to grab hers. I shove it in my pocket instead. “So,” I venture, “lastnight...”

“I swear to God, James, I’m going to punch you in the face if you start telling me it shouldn’t havehappened.”

I laugh. “I think that ship has sailed. I just wanted to make sure you wereokay.”

“You mean emotionally? Or am I too sore to do itagain?”

“Both.”

She walks ahead of me, glancing back over her shoulder. “I think so,” she says with a sly grin. “But maybe we should try it again to besure.”

No one is there by the time we get back. So we try it again. Severaltimes.

I watch her as she dozes on the pillow beside mine. I’m not sure how I will leave her when this summer ends, but there’s no doubt in my mind that I will. If I’ve learned anything from watching my parents, it’s that you should never make life decisions based oninfatuation.

Chapter 40

ELLE

The last daysof July have become the early days of August, all of them a blur of bare skin and orgasms. James’ sheets are full of sand because we return from the beach each day too worked up for things like showers and floormats.

It isn’t just sex, though. He holds my hand under the kitchen table at breakfast. He pulls me into the deep freezer at work. His hands trace patterns over my skin as we lounge at the beach. I want to spend every waking moment with him, and he seems to feel thesame.

But it is all done in secret, which is difficult when you have two housemates. Ginny works constantly and doesn’t have time to pay attention to her own life, much less mine. But Max is anotherstory.

“Okay, one of you needs to admit it,” he says oneafternoon.

“Admitwhat?”

“That,” he says, pointing at my mouth as it twitches in an effort not to smile. “The two of you look like that all day long. When you’re not touching each other and pretending it’s an accident, thatis.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re referringto.”

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “I know he can’t cop to dating a teenager, but what’s yourexcuse?”

His words make my stomach drop. Is James actuallyembarrassed? Enough that Max doesn’t even questionit?

“There’s no excuse. There’s nothing totell.”

I’m beginning to wonder if there ever will be. I fall a little harder each day, but being the fling James is ashamed to acknowledge doesn’t really feel like the start of a fairytale.

* * *

Max mentions the next day that a few friends need a place to crash for the weekend. James seems to think that might even be a good thing, since Ginny is coming home from a trip today aswell.

“Maybe it’ll be chaotic enough that they won’t notice us,” he says. “Wouldn’t it be nice to get three straight hours with no oneinterrupting?”

I think he’s overly optimistic, and I am right. We get home that night to discover Max’s “few” friends are more like a mini Burning Man Festival in our home. There appears to be a half-naked hippie around everycorner.

“What the fuck, Max?” Jamesdemands.

Max shrugs. “I’m sorry. I had no idea there’d be so many of them.” He promises they’ll try to stay out of our way. “The guys will be in the living room, and the girls will be inmine.”

“The girls inyourroom. How convenient,” Ginny says, rolling hereyes.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Ginny. I’m sleeping in your brother’s room,” hereplies.

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