Page 72 of Lovefool

“That’s incredible, Lake. I’m glad I was able to help. Your brother has heart. It’s rare to see that these days when hockey is all about trophies.”

“Nobody else could’ve helped him. I can’t—I don’t even know how I can thank you.”

“Being here on this date was a step in the right direction.”

A butterfly-inducing smile touches her lips, and sugar-coated endearment unspools in my chest at the sight of it. “Technically, I had no idea this date was happening.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

We’re not physically far away from each other by any means, but she scoots closer to me, as if she can’t stand even the tiniest bit of distance between us. She leans over to peek at my own food portion, and her disappointment is so thick it practically hums in the ambience.

“You’re not eating,” she observes, eyebrows knitted.

“Huh? Oh, I’m just nervous,” I respond before I get the chance to come up with a much better excuse.

“After all this time, I still make you nervous?”

My gaze softens; it always does when my eyes trace the elegant curvature of her face. A face gods would have fought wars over; a face Michelangelo would have loved.

“Look at you, Lake. How can you even ask me that?”

She rewards me with a blush instead of a witty parry, and she picks out a cube of cantaloupe before crawling into my lap.

I immediately lean back on my hands to allow her adequate room, the thoughts in my head stumbling over each other in breakneck desire. It’s taking everything south of the border not to harden from the mere contact alone, and I think I’m probably wearing one hell of a “constipated” face right now.

I must be, because her next words are, “Sorry, am I hurting you?”

I inhale deeply. “Kind of. You’re sitting on my lap.”

An apology bleeds into her tone before she realizes that my pain isn’t due to her nonexistent weight but more so the unfortunate placement of her butt on my crotch. I could lift Lake over my shoulders laterally and squat her without breaking a sweat.

She wiggles around without warning, and the throb in my dick is eerily reminiscent of a punch of oxycodone to the very overactive parts of my brain. It’s endearing, the way she gets so shy whenever physicality is at play. Like she can’t possibly fathom that she would be responsible for giving me the most painful boner in all of existence.

“Oh, uh, I can get o⁠—”

She goes to slink off my legs, but I don’t let her. I instinctively latch my hand around her wrist, a growl brewing in the back of my throat. “I didn’t ask you to move.”

It takes her a second to acknowledge the ramifications of our off-grid affair, but she obeys me without another word, situating herself comfortably on my outstretched legs, the tiny morsel of fruit between her fingers shimmering in the receding sunlight.

My pulse jams like broken brakes, the scent of her perfume stranding me adrift in the middle of an unmoving ocean. Self-doubt can’t reach me all the way out here, and despite how persistent my worry has been in the past, it now has no viable foundation to stay afloat.

“You always take care of me,” she says, her eyes especially doe-like as they regard me with inexpressible gratitude, long, full lashes skirting the apples of her cheeks every time she blinks. “Someone needs to take care of you too.”

Lake leans forward to feed me the cantaloupe, pushing it between my lips, then eking out a noise of surprise when I envelop her digits completely with my mouth, sucking on the sweet ambrosia flowing from her fingertips. The cantaloupe is ripe, sweet—but it doesn’t compare to the irreplicable taste of her skin.

I blindly sweep all the food off the picnic blanket with one hand, uncaring for the pile that I’ll have to clean up later. I carve out a foodless spot for Lake to lie on before bringing her close to my chest and flipping her onto her back. Her yelps taper into giggles while I hover over her on my hands and knees, hungrily outlining the imprint of her carotid pulse with sticky lips.

She’s more ticklish than she lets on, squirming underneath me with little creases by her eyes and dimples drawn.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her so…carefree. Lake Capitano shouldn’t have a care in the world. She deserves blissful ignorance as much as the rest of us, and I’ll do everything in my power to shield her from life’s cruelty.

When I lift my head from her neck, she doesn’t waste a moment of time before pulling me into a world-spinning kiss that has the space behind my fifth rib tingling with exhilaration.

I’ll never get used to this feeling—the feeling of being seen. I’ve spent my whole life hidden in the shadows of the people around me, but Lake’s light is the first I want to bathe in.

LAKE

I stare up at a nightshade-colored sky, the crescent moon curving like a sickle and half-obscured by a bank of clouds. Sutton and I have been out here since this morning, subsisting on good food and better conversation.