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arm a couple of times, her hand moving to wipe something at the corner of her eye. I canā€™t see her face, but I think sheā€™s crying.

Great, I made her cry. This is why I donā€™t dateā€”or at least, itā€™s one of the reasons. I suck at it.

I steer the kayak over to the bank. A truck from the kayak rental place is there, waiting to take us back to where we parked, eight or so miles back.

After the kayak hits the sandy bank, I step out and pull it out of the water. Reaching down, I grab Londonā€™s hand and help her get out. I hold her to me and hug her tight before lightly kissing her forehead. ā€œPlease forget my lame attempt at a joke. Iā€™m not remotely funny. Itā€™s one of my flaws.ā€

To this, she giggles, and I realize that itā€™s definitely a favorite sound.

ā€œItā€™s definitely a flaw. You should really work on it,ā€ she responds.

ā€œI know. Iā€™ll try,ā€ I say with mock seriousness.

I lift her off the ground so that her neck is level with my face, and I nuzzle my lips against the soft skin beneath her ear. I breathe her in, letting her sweetness fill my soul.

Iā€™ve got it bad for this chick.

That fact both terrifies and exhilarates me.

London was right earlier. I did contemplate never returning her texts or taking her out again. In this short time that Iā€™ve been talking to her, something has been happening to me. Iā€™m having feelings that I havenā€™t had to deal with in a long time. Iā€™m thinking about people and places that Iā€™d rather not think about. Hell, last night, I dreamed about Jessica, a girl from my foster home days whom I hated above all elseā€”well, almost.

London came into my life, and so did a shitstorm of emotional baggage. Itā€™s as if I canā€™t let my guard down to allow London access to who I really am without letting in all the sadness Iā€™ve been keeping out. Apparently, my emotions are all or nothing.

As I said in my confession to her earlierā€”when all the feelings in my head decided to flow out of my mouth like vomit, unwanted and uninvitedā€”for some reason, I think sheā€™s worth it. Iā€™ve been closed off for so long. Iā€™ve decided to face my fears for once, and after years of being a coward, Iā€™m finally ready to show an ounce of courage.

We get the kayak loaded up and take a seat in the vehicle. The ride back to my truck isnā€™t long. My fingers thread between Londonā€™s as we hold hands. No words are spoken on the way back. Weā€™re both absorbed in our own thoughts. I would pay good money to know what sheā€™s thinking.

The truck drops us off. The sky around us is getting darker. I come to this area often to go kayaking, so I know that the state park nearby has a hill where we can park. We hop in my truck and travel a few minutes down the road until I park at the perfect vantage point to view the upcoming sunset.

After getting out of the truck, I start to organize the blankets in the bed of it.

London chuckles beside me.

ā€œWhat?ā€ I ask.

ā€œI just had this vision of our entire dating future taking place outside.ā€

ā€œSounds good to me.ā€ I finish laying out the blankets. ā€œDo you have complaints about the last time we were in the bed of this truck together?ā€ I raise my eyebrow in question.

That statement halts her snickers. ā€œUm, no. Definitely not.ā€

Even without the bright light of the day, I can see her cheeks redden.

ā€œThatā€™s what I thought,ā€ I answer with a smug expression.

ā€œWell, you know, we do live in Michigan, home of the eight-month winter. So, weā€™re going to have to spend some time indoors eventually.ā€

ā€œNumber one, I think eight months is a slight exaggeration. And number two, they make clothes to help with the elementsā€”you know, snow pants, glovesā€¦things like that.ā€

ā€œNo way. Winter is unbearable, even with all that snow gear. My mom was trying to get me to move South the other dayā€”or at least look for jobs south of here. I told her no because Paige was here, but now that Iā€™m reminded of the winters, I just might.ā€

The words have an almost tangible force to them as they come from her mouth. I feel them hit me in my chest, and I have to pull in a breath. I stare at her for a moment and imagine her leaving, moving away. I know I donā€™t have the right to careā€”I barely know herā€”but the thought of losing her hurts for more reasons than I can explain.

Her gaze finds mine, and I see something flash through her eyesā€”regret maybe.

ā€œI didnā€™t mean that I am moving. I donā€™t know. I havenā€™t even started looking for jobs yet, to be honest. Iā€™m going to apply to ones around here, too.ā€ Her words come out fast, rushed.

ā€œLondon, itā€™s fine.ā€ Itā€™s not fine, but thereā€™s nothing I can do about it this very secondā€¦except maybe give her reasons to stay. ā€œCome on.ā€ I reach out and grab her hands, pulling her onto the blankets.

We get situated so that Iā€™m leaning my back against the cab of the truck, and London lies between my legs with her back to my chest.

The night air is warm but not muggy. Michigan summers can be so humid that one sweats just from sitting outside. Iā€™m thankful that itā€™s not that way tonight because all my accolades over the joys of being outdoors would all be for naught if we were both sweating our asses off. This moment would have lost all of its natural romance, thatā€™s for sure.

London and I are silent as we watch the sun dip beneath the horizon among a sky of pinks and oranges.

When the big ball of light is gone and the sky is barely aglow with the fleeting colors, London turns around. She straddles my lap. ā€œI donā€™t think Iā€™ve ever watched a sunset before. Thanks for that.ā€ She smiles sweetly.

ā€œHow can you never have seen a sunset in your twenty-two years of life? That isnā€™t even possible.ā€

ā€œI mean, of course Iā€™ve seen them, but Iā€™ve never sat and actually watched one, like an event. Itā€™s a much different experience to be still and really appreciate the beauty of it, you know?ā€

ā€œYeah, I suppose it is.ā€ I raise my hand and brush a chunk of her silky hair behind her ear.

As my hand retreats, I grasp the bottom of one of her locks and run it between my thumb and index finger. Itā€™s silky. In all my experiences with girls in the past, Iā€™ve never stopped to simply take them in. I guess Iā€™ve never wanted to until now. It amazes me how soft they are, or maybe itā€™s just London. Everything about herā€”from her hair to her skin to her lipsā€”possesses an enchanting smoothness that is completely fascinating to me.

When my gaze lifts from her hair to meet her eyes, thereā€™s an air of scrutiny in her expression, as if she is trying to figure me out as much as I am with her. For two people in their twenties, weā€™re relative babies in this dating game. I know sheā€™s dated before, but there is something different for her this time around. I can see it every time she looks at me.

I lift my hands to the nape of her neck and glide my fingers through her hair. The sounds of nature are around us with chirps of crickets and frogs in the distance. They all play the background melody to the crescendo of our breaths and the beating of my heart. Having London like this makes me insane with need. The way her body straddles mine and the short distance between our lips are maddeningā€”in the best way. Itā€™s almost completely dark now, but I can still see the desire shining in her eyes, mirroring my own.

She closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip as her head tips back into my hands. My fingers grasp her hair tighter. The movement causes her body to grind against me and my rapidly growing need for her. Unable to physically keep my lips away any longer, I lean in to kiss her exposed neck. My mouth nibbles, sucks, tastes, and kisses over her salty skin. Itā€™s only the appetizer to the long meal that I know is to come, but just this small nibble satisfies me like nothing else has before. Itā€™s not enoughā€”I definitely need moreā€”but itā€™s so good.

London groans into the night air. She grinds against me with purpose, and my lips become needier, urgently moving to sample every inch of her. I kiss up her neck until Iā€™ve found her lips. I pull her face toward me, and my tongue plunges into her mouth. Her lips move passionately against mine. She tastes of pure ecstasy, pure heaven.

Sheā€™s my London, my happy place. Sheā€™s where I belong.

That thought paralyzes me, and I jerk back from her, hitting my head against the back of the truck.

Fuck. Look at that; I literally knocked some sense into myself.

A firestorm of unwanted memories invades my mindā€”all saturated with loss and despair. The overwhelming hurt floods my mind.

This canā€™t work. It will never work.

ā€œWhat is it?ā€ London asks, startled.

It takes me a second to compose my thoughts. My ears ring uncomfortably from my headā€™s firm meeting with the metal behind me.

ā€œI just realized that we should probably get back,ā€ I say in a tight voice.

ā€œWhat?ā€ London sounds utterly confused.

I donā€™t blame her. Two seconds ago, I was gearing up to fuck her senseless, and she knew it.

ā€œLook, I just remembered that I have to work tomorrow, so we should go.ā€ I gently grasp her shoulders and move her off of my lap.

ā€œTomorrowā€™s Sunday.ā€

ā€œRight, I know. I told Cooper that weā€™d get up early to go running. We have our PT test this week.ā€

ā€œSomething tells me that youā€™re not going to have any trouble meeting the minimal requirements given by the government, regardless of whether or not you train.ā€ Her voice is laced with blazing annoyance. ā€œWhatā€™s really the issue, LoĆÆc?ā€

I jump down from the back of the truck. ā€œNothing. Iā€™m just ready to wrap this up, is all.ā€

London stands and walks toward me. ā€œNo, thatā€™s not it.ā€ She sits down before hopping off the tailgate.

I tug the blankets off and walk away from London. Throwing the bedding in the space behind my seat, I say, ā€œItā€™s that simple. Iā€™m ready to go back. I have stuff to do tomorrow.ā€

I turn around, and sheā€™s standing there. The light from the truckā€™s interior shines on her, showcasing her aggravated stance, complete with crossed arms and a vicious scowl.

I donā€™t want to deal with this. Pissed off London is not my favoriteā€”albeit her fierce anger makes her even hotter.

Damn it. Focus.

ā€œWhat are you hiding from? Why are you shutting down? I donā€™t understand!ā€ She raises her arms in frustration. ā€œOne minute, youā€™re all but confessing your love for me, and the next, youā€™re pushing me away faster than I can blink!ā€

ā€œHold up. I never said I loved you. We hardly know each other. Love isnā€™t even in the same universe as us right now.ā€ I motion my finger between us, pointing from my chest to hers.

ā€œReally?ā€ she questions. ā€œSo, your little speech about barely being able

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