Page 40 of Finding London

Even without the bright light of the day, I can see her cheeks redden.

“That’s what I thought,” I answer with a smug expression.

“Well, you know, we do live in Michigan, home of the eight-month winter. So, we’re going to have to spend some time indoors eventually.”

“Number one, I think eight months is a slight exaggeration. And number two, they make clothes to help with the elements—you know, snow pants, gloves…things like that.”

“No way. Winter is unbearable, even with all that snow gear. My mom was trying to get me to move South the other day—or at least look for jobs south of here. I told her no because Paige was here, but now that I’m reminded of the winters, I just might.”

The words have an almost tangible force to them as they come from her mouth. I feel them hit me in my chest, and I have to pull in a breath. I stare at her for a moment and imagine her leaving, moving away. I know I don’t have the right to care—I barely know her—but the thought of losing her hurts for more reasons than I can explain.

Her gaze finds mine, and I see something flash through her eyes—regret maybe.

“I didn’t mean that I am moving. I don’t know. I haven’t even started looking for jobs yet, to be honest. I’m going to apply to ones around here, too.” Her words come out fast, rushed.

“London, it’s fine.” It’s not fine, but there’s nothing I can do about it this very second…except maybe give her reasons to stay. “Come on.” I reach out and grab her hands, pulling her onto the blankets.

We get situated so that I’m leaning my back against the cab of the truck, and London lies between my legs with her back to my chest.

The night air is warm but not muggy. Michigan summers can be so humid that one sweats just from sitting outside. I’m thankful that it’s not that way tonight because all my accolades over the joys of being outdoors would all be for naught if we were both sweating our asses off. This moment would have lost all of its natural romance, that’s for sure.

London and I are silent as we watch the sun dip beneath the horizon among a sky of pinks and oranges.

When the big ball of light is gone and the sky is barely aglow with the fleeting colors, London turns around. She straddles my lap. “I don’t think I’ve ever watched a sunset before. Thanks for that.” She smiles sweetly.

“How can you never have seen a sunset in your twenty-two years of life? That isn’t even possible.”

“I mean, of course I’ve seen them, but I’ve never sat and actually watched one, like an event. It’s a much different experience to be still and really appreciate the beauty of it, you know?”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” I raise my hand and brush a chunk of her silky hair behind her ear.

As my hand retreats, I grasp the bottom of one of her locks and run it between my thumb and index finger. It’s silky. In all my experiences with girls in the past, I’ve never stopped to simply take them in. I guess I’ve never wanted to until now. It amazes me how soft they are, or maybe it’s just London. Everything about her—from her hair to her skin to her lips—possesses an enchanting smoothness that is completely fascinating to me.

When my gaze lifts from her hair to meet her eyes, there’s an air of scrutiny in her expression, as if she is trying to figure me out as much as I am with her. For two people in their twenties, we’re relative babies in this dating game. I know she’s dated before, but there is something different for her this time around. I can see it every time she looks at me.

I lift my hands to the nape of her neck and glide my fingers through her hair. The sounds of nature are around us with chirps of crickets and frogs in the distance. They all play the background melody to the crescendo of our breaths and the beating of my heart. Having London like this makes me insane with need. The way her body straddles mine and the short distance between our lips are maddening—in the best way. It’s almost completely dark now, but I can still see the desire shining in her eyes, mirroring my own.

She closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip as her head tips back into my hands. My fingers grasp her hair tighter. The movement causes her body to grind against me and my rapidly growing need for her. Unable to physically keep my lips away any longer, I lean in to kiss her exposed neck. My mouth nibbles, sucks, tastes, and kisses over her salty skin. It’s only the appetizer to the long meal that I know is to come, but just this small nibble satisfies me like nothing else has before. It’s not enough—I definitely need more—but it’s so good.

London groans into the night air. She grinds against me with purpose, and my lips become needier, urgently moving to sample every inch of her. I kiss up her neck until I’ve found her lips. I pull her face toward me, and my tongue plunges into her mouth. Her lips move passionately against mine. She tastes of pure ecstasy, pure heaven.

She’s my London, my happy place. She’s where I belong.

That thought paralyzes me, and I jerk back from her, hitting my head against the back of the truck.

Fuck. Look at that; I literally knocked some sense into myself.

A firestorm of unwanted memories invades my mind—all saturated with loss and despair. The overwhelming hurt floods my mind.

This can’t work. It will never work.

“What is it?” London asks, startled.

It takes me a second to compose my thoughts. My ears ring uncomfortably from my head’s firm meeting with the metal behind me.

“I just realized that we should probably get back,” I say in a tight voice.

“What?” London sounds utterly confused.

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