One Song Away (13 page)

Chapter Nineteen

I study Jake. He hasn’t seen us yet, because he’s talking to someone just inside the door. His eyes are  tired, and he’s as pale as I am, as if he hasn’t been out in the sun either. His eyes look shuttered, and I don’t think he’s shaved all week. He’s wearing worn jeans and a flannel shirt, and his hair is messy. I want to comb my fingers through the locks and tame them, but instead I look away. I down my water quickly so I’ll have something to do. I tell myself I
have
to face this if I want to deserve this life.

Leaning over, I ignore the worried looks and tell Sloane I’m going to go talk to him, but then I get a chill.

“Claire.”

He says my name so quietly that I barely hear it over the music. But I
feel
him. Before he even appears in my line of sight, walking around from behind me to lean slightly against the table, I feel his presence. My next breath trips and stutters, and I’m relieved I’m sitting, or I would trip, too.

“Claire…can we talk? Please?”

It’s the desperation in the “please” that gets me. I finally look at him, and I swear, I can feel every minute of the last week hanging between us. The nights I saw our picture flash as his caller ID on my phone, and let it go to voicemail. The voicemails I deleted after replaying them at least three times. The shredded breaths I tried to take when his eyes met mine during our staff meeting. How empty my hand has felt all week without his to hold.

I sigh under the pull of those eyes. They’re deep, dark brown in this light, and they’re getting to me. “Okay. We do need to talk.” I stand, my chair scraping against the floor. Sloane says something, but a new song starts, and I can’t make out her words.

Jake and I fall into step beside each other, and even though I know I’m raw and not ready, I can’t help the thrill coursing through me. I’ve missed him. I love him for respecting me this week and giving me my space, but I’ve felt his absence all through me. No one makes me laugh like he does. No one has our history. I don’t fit in anyone’s arms the way I do in his. Our friendship is rare, too.

We end up down the block from Time Out, which is almost downtown. There’s a little park here with a gazebo, some benches, swings, and a slide, as well as a sandbox. It’s off on a side street, a quiet area despite where it is, so families feel safe coming here. There’s no one here tonight except Jake and me.

I wander over to the wooden swings and sit. After a few seconds, he takes the one beside me. I wonder if he’s thinking about the other times we’ve come here: the night before freshman year started, after our junior year homecoming dance, and after my deb ball. He and I sat here passing a bottle of Boone’s Farm back and forth until it was gone, along with the stars.

We came here after graduation, too. It’s where I told him I was leaving to move to Nashville. Every big event involving the two of us is tied to this place. These swings. Do the ghosts of who we were haunt this space?

“So, this hasn’t been a banner week for me,” Jake finally says. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but I miss you.” The words come out slowly, his drawl more obvious. “And I’d say it hasn’t been a great time for you, either.”

“You could say that.” I force the words out through an almost-closed throat. The ache is still there, even when I swallow.

He sighs, and the sound is loud with nothing else but the crickets calling distantly. “Claire… I’m not sure what to say. I want to fix this, but I’m not sure how. I’m not sure what happened to us.” His voice is an open wound, and all I want is to heal it. Heal
him
.

After a few moments, I twist my swing’s ropes until I’m facing Jake. “I saw Victoria kissing you.” Is that
my
strangled voice? My broken words? “It hurt me. Worse than anything.”

There’s just enough starlight for me to watch Jake’s face change. I see confusion first, then understanding, but then the emotions are too thickly painted on his face for me to decipher. I can’t tell if he’s sad, mad, or happy. I can’t tell if he’s finally getting it or only thinks he does.

Finally, he sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I’ve been lost without you all week.” He laughs humorlessly. “Totally lost. I didn’t know for sure what I did, but I knew you were pissed at me. And now to find out it’s over a kiss I didn’t want
or
ask for, and one I
certainly
didn’t return…”

“I know.” I have so much to say, but I don’t even know where to start. “I saw what happened after, I mean, I was hiding…” I shake my head. “I came after you when you went to get your speech, and saw her with you. I stayed out of sight, but I was watching. At first, I thought you might hook up with her.”

“Hell no!” The expression on his face would be laughable under other circumstances. He shakes his head back and forth. “God, Claire, no.
No
.” He exhales. “I pushed her away.”

“I know.” My voice is so small. “I heard.”

“I would
never
be interested in her. Not now, not ever. She’s married. She’s not my type at all…” I hear him take a deep breath, then another. “And most importantly, I’m with
you
. If I made you think
anything
less, even for a minute, I apologize.”

Letting my ropes unravel, I spin until I’m facing straight forward. I lower my head, hiding behind my hair. This isn’t going how I thought it would, but then again, we aren’t in a romantic comedy. This is real life. And if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that love doesn’t play out according to a script. It isn’t how it is in the movies, at all. It’s infinitely better, but it’s also messier, and harder.

He’s watching me. “I couldn’t stand it if I hurt you. But Claire, you hurt me too, by shutting me out. Please don’t do that to me. You should have told me what you saw, so we could have talked about it before now. We have to communicate if this is going to work…even if it means having uncomfortable discussions at times.”

I clear my throat, gazing at him. By now, I know him well enough to know when he’s lying to me. He can’t. He has a tell—a nervous tug at his ear—and because of it, he’s never been able to lie to me convincingly.

“Well.” I fiddle with my thumb ring. He’s watching me, waiting patiently. “I guess I owe
you
an apology. I know I’m melodramatic sometimes, but you didn’t deserve being shut out like that. I should have talked to you, should have…let you explain. I’m sorry, too.” I take a deep breath. “I didn’t doubt
you
. I know she came on to you; I was just hurt it happened at all.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jake says slowly, “she’s a terrible kisser.” When I look at him, his eyes are sparkling slightly.

I snort loudly. “That actually does.” I push my swing back and forth gently. This is the difficult part. “I heard you turn her down, and I heard what you said about me. About
us
.” Dammit it all to hell, I’m blushing. I stare up at the sky, tears gathering in my eyes. “It…messed with my head. It doesn’t seem like real life, because real life isn’t this amazing. So I just needed to think. I needed some time.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes. I’m not sure what else to say, how to express all I’m thinking. I know him well enough to know he’s mulling over what I’ve said, and I know I can’t push him. So I wait.

“Claire, can we rewind? I hated not having you around,” he finally says. “And I’m scared, too.” He says the last part very gently. “I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t.”

Can
we? Can we go back to what we had before? It was so easy, so breathlessly easy at times. So tense at others, full of what I thought were possibilities, of words I thought were unsaid because we didn’t
have
to say them. And now I’m not sure of anything, other than that everything is changing. He says we’re together, but until now, he’s never given me any concrete reason to think he means it the way I do. I followed signs, that’s all. Just signs I could have misread. Signs that could get me hurt again.

What are we now? A couple? Neither of us has told the other directly how we feel. Jake is my entire heart now. Am I
his
? Can I finally trust this, trust us?

“I don’t know.” I look his way, chewing on my bottom lip. “I’d have to think about it. I’m not sure what to do now. I’m…spun.”

He stands, his swing jangling as he walks over to me. My breath catches as he closes his hands over the ropes I’m holding onto tightly.

“Don’t take too long, sweetheart.” There’s a plea in his voice, in his beautiful eyes. Just a simple request I could no more deny than I could pull the stars from the sky and hold them in my hands. I can’t look away from him. His eyes are locked on mine, but they drift to my mouth. I’m barely breathing.

I missed him so much. Missed his touch, the way he makes me laugh. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to be without him any longer. Earlier, I vowed I wouldn’t get in the way of my own happiness, and it’s time to put my money where my mouth is. So I’m scared. Maybe being scared means I care. Maybe it’s time to take a leap of faith.

“I missed you so much this week.” His voice is low and husky. It tugs at me. I don’t realize what I’m doing until I lick my lips, and his eyes follow the motion. “Not being able to be around you was torture.”

“What did you miss most?” Am I suddenly a pyromaniac? Because I’m
definitely
playing with fire.

“Hmmm….” Jake’s hands trail down the ropes until they touch mine. Just a light, unassuming touch, but it leaves me wanting more. Much more. “I missed touching you like this.” He cups my face in both hands, his long fingers warm. “And this.” His legs press lightly against my knees. “And this.”

“Oh?”

Eyes darkening, he reaches around me and hauls my swing nearer until I’m as close to him as I can get. It must be a strain on him, but he doesn’t show it. I know what he’s doing and I know what’s coming, because he waits. He gives me plenty of time to back away. To push against him and stand. To leave. To tell him this is a bad idea. That it’s a line we shouldn’t cross.

But haven’t we already crossed it time and time again? Is there even a line left at this point?

“I wanted to be this close to you the night of the gala. I wanted to take you home with me.” His voice is almost a growl at this point.

Nudging my legs open, Jake eases in between them. The fabric of his jeans brushes against my thighs as my dress rides up. I take a sharp breath, feeling like the opposite magnet to his. Everything in me is straining toward him, pulled to the breaking point. It is
exquisite
. He lowers his head until his mouth is barely a breath away from mine.

“But mostly, I missed…this.”

Oh this is
not
going to end well, but if I’m going to hell, I might as well hold nothing back.

I don’t make him wait. I close the distance between our mouths, and
I
kiss
him
. Whatever line was left, this is the step that will blur it. And it’s my choice. I’m not sure where this is going, but what I do know is that I’ve wanted this—
him
—for too long to deny myself this opportunity. If all I get with him is this kiss and this moment, it will be enough. We’re both in this moment, and we both want this.

There are no missed chances, like at prom. No longing glances I’ll play off as part of our arrangement. No practice kisses. Just this. Us.

And it is worth the wait.

Chapter Twenty

Jake drives to his apartment with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand in mine. We didn’t talk after the kiss, but we didn’t need to. The urgency of our kisses said all there was to say. Apparently the universe feels it, too, because we don’t hit a single red light. We make the usually ten-minute trip in eight. I know because I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, counting the seconds until his mouth is on mine again. It’s the only thing I know to do to keep from distracting him while he drives. So I count and listen to the hum of the engine, and I pray that my awkwardness doesn’t somehow ruin this.

As soon as we’re parked, I step out, going around to the driver’s side. Jake is just closing his door when I reach him. I hook my fingers in his belt loops and lean in to suck his bottom lip in between mine. He groans softly, but doesn’t make a move to stop me. He lets me kiss him, and doesn’t speak until I break away to kiss his neck.

“We’ll never get inside if you keep this up,” he says.

Inside. Where there are things like couches. A bed. I’ve seen his luxurious king-sized bed. And from the way things are going, there’s a good chance I could end tonight in it. With him.

I swallow, letting go of him. He surprises me by curling his fingers around mine for the walk into his apartment building. I’m glad, because although this is very much what I want, there’s some distant part of me that’s in shock. His skin is almost too hot against mine, and when he drops his keys before he can get them into the lock on his door, I realize that he’s just as nervous as I am. The fact that Coop could be nervous about being with me somehow grounds this moment in reality.

He finally opens the door and we tumble inside together. I kick out of my heels, because there’s a definite chance I’ll break something now, with as off balance as I am by the feel of his arms circling my waist. I turn in his embrace, and the look in his eyes literally takes away my breath. It’s as though he’s pulled back a curtain, and shown me what he really feels. His eyes are luminous with something I’ve never seen there before: desire. A wanting so deep that it leaves me almost physically shaken.

Jake Cooper wants me.
Me
.

And he should. It’s taken me longer than I would have liked to get here, but I’m happy with who I am. I’m proud of who I am. And over the last week, I’ve begun to realize I’m worthy of this.

“Put your hands on me,” he says.

The words are quiet, almost gruff, but I’m glad for his request. I have no fucking clue what to do right now. I’m so far out of my comfort zone that I’m basically winging it. I’ve been with guys who knew what they were doing, and guys who didn’t. I’ve been with guys who got off before I did and were done with me, and guys who made sure I came before they did. But I’ve never been with
Jake
.

Until now.

I meet Jake’s eyes again, and as they darken, I can’t look anywhere but at him. “Like this?” I whisper. I loop my arms around his neck.

He nods and cups my face with one hand. I melt and sway closer to him. “Claire,” he whispers, his voice husky, “you might want to close your eyes for this.”

Following his suggestion, I let my eyes drift closed. I’m sense deprived, but when his mouth touches mine, I don’t care. I feel a shudder dancing along the edges of my awareness, but all I can feel is his lips claiming mine. And claiming is the right word. We’ve kissed several times now, and each has been different, just like this one is. It isn’t pretend. It isn’t tentative. His mouth is hot and hungry on mine.

Jake crushes me to him. I love that he doesn’t try to treat me as though I’m delicate. He has his arms around my waist again, and as he kisses me, he starts backing me down the hallway. We stumble into a wall and we stay that way, limbs tangling together. His mouth is on my neck, and he’s pushing the strap on my sundress down so he can kiss my shoulder.

“Coop,” I sigh, tilting my head so he has better access to the area he craves. He sucks lightly for a few seconds, not long enough to leave a mark, but just long enough to make me bite down hard on my lip. Fuck. Me.

He turns me slowly so my back is against the wall. “This okay?” I can only nod, but he waits until I do. Then he returns his attention to my mouth. He kisses me until I’m trembling. And I feel all over again like I’ve never
really
been kissed until Jake. The play of his mouth on mine, the feel of his tongue mingling with mine, the breaths we share. This, with Coop, is how it always should have been.

One of his hands drops to my hip. The other cups my breast through the fabric of my dress. My stomach clenches. Without meaning to, I arch my hips into his. It’s enough to undo him, apparently, because the next thing I know, he literally sweeps me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist so I don’t knock us off balance, and he carries me to his bedroom. The door is halfway shut, but he kicks it open and crosses the room. He kisses me thoroughly, sitting me on the bed, but I stand again.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He growls the words at me, so I stick my tongue out at him. Jake busts out laughing until I silence him with a kiss.

This time, I’m the one getting
his
mouth to open. I ease my tongue into his mouth, playing lightly with his. I put both hands on his chest, but feeling the muscles under his shirt is torture. When I go for his belt buckle, he groans.

“Is this okay?”

“Hell yeah it’s okay.” Jake grins at me, those dimples flashing.

Dying. I’m dying. But oh
hell
, what a way to go. Death by Jake Cooper’s hotness.

I fumble with his buckle and finally get it undone before I slide his belt through the loops. His shirt is tucked neatly into his jeans. I hate that. It’s so much
work
. I just want to put my hands on his chest. I growl a little under my breath, but he hears me.

“Impatient, are we?”

“Shut up, Coop.”

I finally get his shirt unbuttoned, and he pulls it over his head in one smooth motion. Then—
ohthankyouJesus
—I get to do what I’ve wanted to do since I realized my feelings went beyond a crush. Putting my hands on his skin, I let them travel over his arms and chest. I silently thank whatever gym equipment exists to get a person this ripped. I trace his six-pack and doing so brings me closer to him. We’re pressed together before I realize it. When I feel the heat of his skin through my dress, I want to be closer than this to him.

Jake backs me away from him a few steps, and I panic until I realize what he’s doing. He’s slowly guiding me toward the bed. He wants me on the bed.
His
bed. I let him lower me until I’m lying down, then I scoot up until my head is on a pillow. As he follows me, I watch him. When he doesn’t make a move to remove any more clothing, I realize that other than getting me here, he’s letting
me
decide how fast we go.

I love this man.

I
love
him. I knew I was falling for him again, but this last week really showed me how
much
a part of my life he’s become since I moved home. Jake is a confidante, a friend, but I want him to be so much more. I don’t want this to ever end, because we’re
good
together. We encourage each other, we have real talks, and we have some of the same goals and core beliefs. And I love him. So much that it scares me, but not enough that I wouldn’t want to feel this way. It’s worth the small whisper of fear, because beyond that is…something that leaves me so full.

I didn’t really see until now. Even though I’m not sure if he feels or
could
feel the same about me, I can definitely tell that he wants this. He wants to be with me. He wants to have sex with me. And Jake is the type who will want me to stay through the night for breakfast tomorrow and then…who knows.

My breath trips up and I find his gaze again. It’s my anchor.
He’s
my anchor.

Jake straddles me and leans over to kiss me. I give myself permission to lose myself in the kiss, and in the feel of his warm breath on my neck. In his lips, trailing their way down to my collarbone. He lingers there, smiling against my skin when I squirm under him. And then, as if I’m not already in sensory overload, Jake caresses my thigh. He doesn’t remove his hand, and when I don’t ask him to, he skims it against the bottom of my dress. I shiver as cool air hits my legs when he inches the fabric up, up, up, until it pools around my waist. He lays kisses on my inner thigh for a brief, glorious moment before he travels upward.

“Claire.” Jake kisses my jaw. “You’re gorgeous.”

I’m flushed already, but with his words, I feel the heat in my face increase. I almost can’t believe he’s saying these words to
me
. He knows he doesn’t have to. He knows I feel something for him. He doesn’t need to use flattery. So he
means
it. He thinks I’m beautiful. He wants me.

I force myself to breathe as I reach for the button on his pants. He sucks in a breath, staring down at me, his hair falling into his eyes. He lets me fumble for the button, then the zipper. I pull his jeans down until he has to rise up on one leg, then the other, to shuck out of them.

While he’s doing that, I get out of my dress. I shudder until Jake straddles me again, his warmth chasing away the sting of the cool air. He eases one finger inside my bra, tracing my breast. When his finger grazes my nipple, I moan. Jake chuckles under his breath, and caresses the taut flesh again. Desire floods between my legs, and I know I’m not going to be able to go slow.

Sitting up, I meet him halfway. We kiss slowly, like we have all the time in the world, like tonight will never end. He flipped off the light at some point, so the only source of light is a small lamp in the corner on his desk, and the moonlight flooding in through the windows.

Jake takes my hands in his and guides them to his hips. He’s down to just his boxers, so I do something I never thought I would be brave enough to do: I let one hand slip down until it trails over the front of his boxer shorts. I can feel the whole length of his erection. When I wrap my hand around him, he hisses out a slow breath.

“Yes?” I squeeze ever so gently.

“Yes.” He makes a strangled noise deep in his throat. “Yes, sweetheart. I always want your hands on me.”

The endearment brings sudden tears to my eyes, but I blink them away. Jake has never used many with me before. I used to hope that 'Claire' was the only one he needed, but I gave up on it ever being something more than an affectionate, platonic nickname. Now…I smile happily.

“Claire,” he says, “I want to touch you everywhere. Kiss you everywhere.” He strokes my face with one hand. “Can I…may I make love to you?” When his eyes meet mine, there’s nothing but wanting and reverence in them.

I can barely speak. “Please.”

Jake leaves my side to rummage through a drawer in his desk. I know he’s looking for a condom, and my heart beats triple time until he finds one. Then he comes back to the bed, foil square in his hand. I watch  the muscles in his strong legs moving. He’s glorious, and right now, he’s mine.

It hits me now, that I’m halfway naked in his bed. A sense of complete vulnerability sweeps over me. I’ve dreamed of this so many times, and now that it’s actually happening, I’m not sure how to feel. I feel stripped bare and happy at the same time, but I also suddenly know that I can’t go through with this on a false foundation.

This is probably the worst time in the
world
to have the old urge to confess my feelings, but… I can’t do it. I can’t sleep with Jake while he thinks I’m just into him. I know he’s probably thinking that our feelings happened during our “relationship”, but mine predate that. By years. And I
need
him to know. I can’t be with him without him knowing everything. Even if I’m the only one who feels this way.

“Wait.” It kills me when he pauses. “I need to tell you something first.”

“Okay.” His eyes narrow, an expression of confusion flashing across his face.

I have to swallow once, then again. “I want…this. Us.” Gesturing between us, I try not to notice how badly my hand is shaking. “But…”

“But?” He raises an eyebrow.

This will change everything. There’s no going back after this. I move so I’m sitting against his headboard. And I confess what I’ve felt since we were teenagers.

“I have to tell you something first.” One last breath, like it will make this any easier. “I love you.”