Page 59 of The Space Between
Lifting it to my lips, I take a sip. It’s black, strong, and has the faintest hint of cinnamon.
Wait…
“I taste cinnamon,” I tease.
He shrugs like it’s nothing but says, “You said you liked it.”
He added cinnamon to his coffee… for me.
Warmth fills me as I reply, “I did. But I didn’t think you listened.”
He shrugs again. “I hear more than I say, Blakelyn.”
I sip. The temperature of the coffee burns my tongue but it feels good… like waking up all over again.
“You okay?” he asks after another quiet moment.
I don’t lie. “I’m sore,” I say, turning to face him. He tenses beside me, but I quickly go on. “I’m sore in agoodway, Gruene. I didn’t sleep much but only because my heart won’t shut up.”
He flinches slightly. “If you regret it?—”
“I don’t.” I immediately reply. “I don’t regret anything.”
His shoulders drop.
I can’t stop myself from asking, “Do you?”
He continues to stare at the moving green water. “I don’t evenknowwhat I feel, Blakelyn. That’s the part that scares me.”
“That you feel something?” I ask before I can think it through.
He shakes his head, “No. That with you, I finally feeleverything.”
Me, too, Gruene.
We sitlike that for a long time, with only our thighs touching. Just… being. And yet, somehow, it’s more intimate than anything we did last night.
“I’m going to screw this up,” he blurts out. I glance over. His jaw is tight. His eyes are dark. His shoulders are hunched. “But I’m not gonna lie to you about it. I’m not gonna disappear. I just need… patience, Blakelyn.”
I whisper, “I’m not asking for perfect, Gruene.” His eyes lift to mine and I say, “I’m asking for real.”
He inhales deeply before holding it and exhaling slowly. Then, he nods. “I can do real.”
Reece calls his name from the other side of the cabins, interrupting us, “Gruene, where are you at?”
He yells back, “On the dock. Be there in a sec.” Sighing, he stands slowly, stretching out the tension in his back as he looks down at me. “You coming over later?” he asks.
I tilt my head all the way back, meeting his eyes, trying not to gasp at the way the morning sun creates the perfect shadows on his face. “Is that an invitation?” My voice is unintentionally breathy.
“It’s a yes or no question.” He bluntly says.
I smirk. “Then, yes. I am.”
His smile is faint, but it’s there. Butterflies dance in my stomach and my chest suddenly feels too small.
Turning on his heel, he leaves. I don’t go back inside right away. Instead, I walk along the riverbank, my toes sinking into the mud and silt as grass brushes my calves. I stop by the giant cypress and run my hand along the bark, feeling the texture underneath my fingers and wishing it was Gruene’s imperfect skin.
This is how it begins.
