Page 175 of Feels Like Forever

The best I’ve been able to do in the way of making her more comfortable is tend to her complaints and try some different conversation tactics.

The latter haven’t always felt helpful. A couple days ago, I used her age-old,‘Loves, honey,’in the middle of my visit and she replied with a soft, “Bright blue grass.” And when I said it again later in place of my usual goodbye, she started screaming at me.

It’s just a damn mess.

At least I’ve been able to handle it a little better than before. Haven’t felt quite as overwhelmed.

After overhearing three loud mothers agree to dinner after the Christmas program, my conversation with Liv lightens into the topic of whatwewant for dinner. Then we start discussing what we should do about furniture when I move in, since we have no need for two dining tables and two couches and two beds.

Thinking about beds gets me thinking about the talk we had last night in the privacy of hers.

She wanted to know if I’m upset that we’ll always have to be quiet in bed because of Rae. Our lighthearted approach to making out noiselessly the other day had her worried about losing some of the fun of being together.

But hell no, I’m not upset or worried about having to be sneaky. I’ll absolutely enjoy her hiding her moans in my shoulder and neck and mouth; I’ll enjoy doing the same back to her. And that’s exactly what I told her.

I also reminded her of this past Saturday night—we couldn’t be loud then, either, and it wasdamngood.

I can still feel how her breath trembled as she remembered, too, and the brush of her nose against mine as she nodded just before we kissed. Slowly. Deeply. With our bodies pressing together almost as hotly as the other time.

I wanted her again.

I wanted her more.

I wanted her entirely.

And she wanted me, too. She told me she did, in a whispered moan against my shoulder, indeed, while I kissed down her neck.

It was too bad for us, though, because something else we said on my couch on Sunday was that we should save our next intimate exchange for the first night we live together. It started as a joke, but honestly, it’s a good idea. I was hard as a rock just from kissing her like I had been because that girl is my fucking undoing, and she was heated in body and in expression, and there was agreement between us that sex would be our next step…and something about going there inourbed inourapartment sounded fantastic.

So, yeah, last night was kind of difficult to get through.

We managed, though, and we’ll make it through the next eleven nights, too.

Whew…elevennights.

It’s really as good a deal as I could get. We don’t live in the classiest of places, so when I talked to our landlord to see how I should handle moving out of my unit, he stroked his moustache and said he’d let me out of the lease in two weeks instead of a month if I gave him half a month’s rent within the hour.

I didn’t mind doing it. And that was three days ago—Monday—so two Mondays from now will be my first official day in the McKellar household.

The McKellar-Wintermute household.

“What are you smiling about?” I hear Liv ask.

I blink out of my thoughts and realize I’ve been smiling at where we’re holding hands. Hell, I probably look like an idiot. Don’t feel like one, though, as I look her in the face and see she’s smiling, too. I’ve entertained her, not embarrassed her.

I say, “Eleven days.”

Her smile grows shyer with understanding, and I love it.

“This is a bad place to talk about that,” she whispers on a laugh.

“You asked!” I tease her.

She tsks. “That I did.” After another second of smiling, she picks up our hands and kisses my knuckles.

I remember her mouth being on my music notes last night, and I sigh.

She murmurs, “The time can’t pass quickly enough, can it?”

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