Has to Be Love (24 page)

And then I ask the question I was always afraid to. Having my eyes closed makes it easier. “Does it feel strange to kiss me?”

The pause is so long I know he's actually thinking about it, and I love that he's taking the time to give me a real answer. I open my eyes to see his thoughtful ones, his body still resting unapologetically on top of mine.

“You're new.
Everyone
feels different.” His fingers brush away a few more stray hairs.

“You know what I mean.” I stare at his chest instead of looking him in the eye.

His finger traces my lip. “When I kiss you like this”—his lips touch mine in the softest kiss—“I can feel the difference between one side of your mouth and the other, but just barely. You probably have a warped perception of how drastic your scarring is. And I can't believe you're putting me on the spot like this.” He grimaces but is smiling, like we've been this intimate a hundred times and not one.

“I've just always wondered.”

“And you never asked Elias?”

His name now feels like a language I don't understand—part dread, part relief, part resignation, part missing him …“No. I never asked him.”

“Well, when I kiss you harder, like this …” His lips take mine first and then his tongue slides in my mouth again, and I get completely lost in the moment of his warmth and feel and mouth until he pulls away. “Doesn't feel strange at all.”

I start to talk, but he puts his fingers over my lips as he smiles. “It's not weird. It's not actually strange. It's just … You're
you.
I've wanted to kiss you since I got here, and since I kissed you that once, I've wanted to kiss you more. Does that answer your question?”

I grab all the courage I can and pull him closer, feeling the shoulders I stared at a little too much when he first arrived, and kiss him again.

As he pushes his hips against mine, I can feel how he's turned on, and instead of scooting away like I probably should, I wrap my leg around him and bring him closer.

“I can't …” I gasp before our mouths come together again. “I can't go too far …”

His tongue swirls in my mouth again. “Okay,” he whispers as he grasps my hips and presses us even closer.

“Clara?” Dad's voice rings out in the barn, and I flip over, knocking Rhodes to the floor.

“Up here,” I stutter and then stare at Rhodes. “Grab that end of the bale there,” I say as if we were just sitting up here moving bales around.

Rhodes scrambles to sitting so close to the edge that I'm sure Dad can see he was lying down a moment ago.

Dread snakes through me because a conversation about sex or Rhodes and kissing in the barn is about the last thing I want to have with my dad in this moment. Or really, in any moment.

“I got the hay bale, but you can't keep knocking me over,” he tries to tease in another pathetic attempt to cover up the fact that we were just groping each other in the barn.

“Don't worry with that now,” Dad says. “Why don't you two crawl on down.”

Rhodes turns to face me and cocks a brow as if questioning what we're about to face.

I shrug, knowing I'm still mostly out of view.

Rhodes pauses at the top of the ladder. “Glad you joined us, Thomas.”

And I almost believe him.

A sick kind of dread pools in my stomach as I slide down the ladder in front of Rhodes. The sad, crinkled eyes are all I need to see to know Dad isn't stupid and knows exactly what was going on.

“Well.” Rhodes stops at the bottom of the ladder with a small smile, swings his arms forward, and claps his hands together. “It's been fun, but maybe I should head out.”

Dad nods a couple times but doesn't speak, and I bite my lip as I step back and lean against the ladder, wondering if I should try to run for it.

“So …” Rhodes pauses. “Dinner on Thursday?” he asks.

“I'll be in touch.” Dad gives him the briefest of glances. “We'll see you later, Mr. Kennedy.”

Ouch.
Total dismissal.

As much as I should keep my eyes on Dad, I see Rhodes pause at the door and give me a soft smile-frown before stepping out.

“So. I have homework.” I start for the door, but Dad is between the door and me, and he holds his hand up before I've had a chance to take two steps.

“Clara.”

I pause, unsure if breathing would be smart, every nerve ending teetering on edge. “Yeah, Dad?”

His head cocks to the side. “He's four years older than you. And not just a teacher but
your
teacher. Elias has had me nervous since you two started dating, but Rhodes is … I really like him a lot. But …”

“But?” I ask instead of just staying quiet and nodding like I should.

“I worry about his motivation because he's so much older than you. Rhodes isn't the kind of guy who is looking for a relationship, which is fine until my daughter's in the mix.”

Oh great. “Thank you for giving me so much credit, Dad.”

He sighs. “You're a smart girl, Clara. Think about what you're doing before you do something you regret.
Please.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Next year we could be in the same college classes, Dad. And not even next year, but within six months.”

“He give you that line?”

Curse my father's ability to see through pretty much everything. “It's not anything serious. It's … Elias is intense, always has been. I'm mixed up. I'll admit it, but Rhodes is easy. There's no pressure or …”

More than anything, being with Rhodes is about what I want right now and nothing else. I need to do what I want on my terms, and that's what I'm doing.

Dad reaches forward and tugs a few strands of hay from my hair. “When you're on the floor with a guy, it's serious.”

My throat is swelling again, and heat rushes up my throat and cheeks. The idea of my dad knowing what I did with Rhodes … or maybe something of how I feel … It's too much.

“I think they're stellar young men for having such good taste, but as someone who is trying to prove himself responsible enough to handle a teaching position, Rhodes definitely should not be starting any kind of a relationship with a student.”

I grasp Dad's arm. “You're not going to turn him in, are you? Say something to the school?”

We stare at each other—almost a war of wills—but Dad's too kind to push forward, and we both know it.

“If you're together with him the way you were tonight, then yes. It's my responsibility, Clara. This is serious. If you two …” He coughs once. And again. And then his eyes are on me so hard, I know he's about to really force his point. “For example, you're seventeen and he's twenty-one. He's more than three years older and in a position of authority. That could be considered sexual assault of a minor, or—”

“Oh!” I hold my hands up between us, shame rushing up my neck and over my face in a wave of heat. “Dad. Don't … No. I'm not going to … We're not …”

Dad sighs, and once again his wrinkles look deeper, his skin paler, and worry grips at me.

“I'm okay, Dad. I'm not going to have sex with him.”

He tugs me into a half hug, and we start for the barn door together. “I'm not sure that you're okay. You're still … distracted. Please talk to me. Or Suki. Or even Cecily.”

There's something off about leaning into my dad so soon after being so … intense with Rhodes, but I do it anyway because I know it'll make Dad feel better. I don't want to internalize how I should or shouldn't have acted with Rhodes, because I don't want to talk myself out of doing it again.

32

I hit the brakes of my four-wheeler in front of Cecily's house and run for the porch steps, heart still thundering after the phone call.

Her door opens, and Cecily steps out with a smile. “I'm not on your way.” She laughs.

Laughs!

“Yeah, well. Elias is ignoring me at school, but it's not like I can suddenly tell his mom I can't help her at the warehouse,” I protest. “I need you!”

I spin back around, heart still thrumming, and sprint to the wheeler, throwing one leg over the seat and standing with my feet on the pegs, waiting for Cecily.

“And you got me,” Cecily climbs on behind me, and I sit on the padded seat so she can hold my waist. “Don't kill us on the way, alright?”

I hit the gas the second she's on, and we tear up the trail that follows the road. “I'm running late,” I yell.

“I gathered by the fifty text messages warning me to be ready.”

Bringing Cecily to work is like my buffer. I don't want it to be obvious that I need one, so I may have slightly lied and told Elias's mom that a friend was over, and I had to bring her with me.

Instead of the happy tingling in my stomach I used to get when Motter Construction came into view, my stomach twists, tightens, and rolls over.

I let go of the gas, and the four-wheeler slows down so fast that Cecily runs into my back.

I slump. “I can't do this.”

Cecily snorts. “Yes you can, and you will. You two used to be friends, Clara. Maybe try to get some of that back.”

“Elias won't talk to me,” I protest.

“Well …” She sighs. “I'm here. Let's go.”

I tentatively press on the throttle, and we drive into the parking lot.

No Elias.

Thank you.

We step off the machine, and I push open the front door to see Elias standing behind his mom.

Stomach. Gone.

“Hey.” I wave as my smile trembles.

Elias gives us each a brief nod before turning away and pushing through the doors into the warehouse.

Cecily puts her hand on my back and shoves me forward.

“Just really quick today.” Mrs. Motter smiles, but it's a weird, flat, forced kind of smile.

Right. I broke up with her son. Broke his heart. And it's not like she doesn't know.

“Okay.” I walk around the counter on shaky legs and flop in the chair next to her.

We stare at each other for a moment, but I don't have words.

“I'll sort nails,” Cecily offers as she moves to that part of the store. I swear every one of us has sorted the bins with nails at some point growing up.

“Just an accounting question.” Mrs. Motter taps her computer, and I stare for a moment, leaning in and squinting.

“You just have a few things in the wrong column. Ten minutes. Tops.” And then I can leave.

“Thank you,” she says quietly as she slides her chair back.

I try to focus on the numbers and columns instead of the fact that she's still silent. I move the numbers back over and scroll down to make sure nothing else is amiss.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out.

There's a text from Rhodes.
I'd like to see you today if you can swing it.

My head swivels both ways, like Elias will suddenly appear and see that Rhodes is writing me. And then my gaze falls on Cecily's back. She's the perfect cover to find a way to spend time with him.

Yeah. I can swing that. At work now. Should be done in fifteen. Where do you want to meet?

I hold my breath waiting for his response.

You're the expert.

I'm the expert? Oh right. I live here. We've spent a lot of time in my barn, and we've hung at the fairground cemetery. School is out. Church is out. Our few restaurants are out because technically I'm still his student, and neither of us wants to deal with the backlash of us being seen together.

I'll pick you up and we can ride the wheeler. Is that okay?

I set my phone in my lap and shuffle a few more numbers on the Motter computer.

With you on the tiny seat of a four-wheeler? I'm in.

Oh crap.

Well. Actually … the idea that we'll be stuck that close together might be fairly awesome. And my chest bunches up in guilt over sitting next to Elias's mother while texting a guy I'm about to go see.

See you in 30 min to an hour.

And now I just need to focus and get these numbers in.

“You're seriously ditching me?” Cecily says as we pull up to her house.

“It's for a good cause?” I try a sweet smile.

She folds her arms. “I've barely seen you!”

“I'm sorry, but I really, really want to spend a few minutes with Rhodes.”

“Fine.” Cecily frowns in a fake pout. “Have fun.”

“I will.” I grin, sit back on the seat, and once again hit the gas. This time for Rhodes. Because with him there's no pressure. No expectations. Just now.

The swirling excitement whips into a near-frenzy as I cruise up the trail to Ms. Bellings's house. I take a sharp left next to a creek that I know flows through her yard, which is better because being on the roads on my way to him might not be the best thing.

I now get why people do things they're not supposed to. My head is light and swimmy, and my stomach is twirling with anticipatory nerves. This is forbidden, but at the same time, we could totally be in the same college classes next year, so it's
fine.

I'm meeting up with a guy who likes me for my talent. A guy who is older, goes to my dream school, and wants to kiss me even though my lips are scarred.

Rhodes is jogging down the steps before I've even stopped in the yard and slides on behind me. The strong arms I spent so much time watching are now wrapped around my waist.

“Okay, Alaska, take me into the wilderness.” His lips touch my neck, sliding a rush of tingles through my core.

I open my mouth to say something but words don't come. Instead I concentrate on the feel of his strong arms and how his chest occasionally bumps against my back and how his thighs rest over my thighs. We drive back toward the creek and about a mile up the trail where I know there's a lookout. My face doesn't matter. Elias doesn't matter. School doesn't matter. We matter.