Page 128 of Landon & Shay: Part One

“Monica’s doing okay. She’s staying in the hospital for forty-eight hours before being transferred to a rehab clinic.”

“Rehab?” he questioned, arching an eyebrow. “Good. That’s good.”

“She asked me to give these to you,” I said, handing him the ripped-out pages of the notebook. “And I figured I should give you these, too, to go with it.” I gave him three more notebooks.

“What are these?”

“The most in-depth character portfolio I’ve ever created. I get a feeling you’ve already read the first part, but in my head, there’s nothing worse than an incomplete story, so you should finish reading until the very end.”

He brushed a finger under his nose. “Will you stay with me as I read through it? I just…my mind is doing crazy shit right now, and I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Landon. I’m here. I’m always here.”

We moved to the couch and sat down. I pulled my knees into my chest and chewed on the collar of my shirt as he read the words I’d written about him. There were a few paragraphs that made him laugh out loud, and others that made him almost tear up. Every word was filled with love. With want. With desire.

With respect.

“You think I’m all these good things?” he asked, his voice shaky as he placed the notebooks down on the coffee table.

“No. I think you’re more.” I moved closer to him and wrapped my arms around his body. He put his hands on my lower back, holding me in place. “I’m sorry you’re so sad, Landon.”

“Too sad. It’s too much for you.”

“You’re never too much. I love your happy, and I love your sad. I love your light, and I love your dark. I love you. Every script, every page, every revision, every draft.”

He brushed his lips against mine and closed his eyes. “I needed you today, and you were there. I cannot thank you for being there for me, for being here for me. For being…you. You make the darkest nights feel like the sun. I love you,” he breathed out, “I love you. I…love…you…”

We were just two kids who made a stupid bet a few months ago. Two kids who pushed one another. Two kids who pissed each other off, who made rude remarks, who battled each other tooth and nail. And then, somewhere in the midst of our hate, we accidentally fell in love.

“Can I have you tonight, Shay? Can I take you to my room and taste every single inch of you?” he muttered as his lips slowly nibbled at mine. “Can I be yours tonight?”

“Yes. Every inch of me is all yours.”

He carried me to his room and then undressed me slowly.

We made love twice that night. The first time was delicate and controlled; he went slow and worshipped every single inch of me. The second time, I asked him to show me his scars, and he did exactly that. It was a messy kind of love. His kisses were deeper, his thrusts were harder, and his love was loud. He rocked his hips against mine, pinning me against the dresser, against the bed, against his heartbeats. He made love like the wild beast that lived within him. He moaned and grunted as he pounded into me, showing me his pain, his heartache, his scars.

And that heartbroken boy? He was mine.

Damaged.

Broken.

Disheveled.

And mine.

* * *

When Sunday morning came,he walked me to the front door and wrapped me into a hug. “Thank you for staying.”

“I’ll always stay.”

He gave me a lopsided smile. “You’re everything good in this world. Do you know that?”

“Ditto.”

He looked my way, and I began to read him. There was something he wasn’t saying, something he was holding back to himself, and I hated that I couldn’t tap into it. I hated that I couldn’t tap into that part of him. It was as if he’d put up a wall to keep me from reading his current chapter.

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