“What?! What happened?!” Kade screams over my celebrations.
“Jump with me!”
I pull him up from where he’s reclining, and he laughs, taking my hands as we jump around and around. Kade is going easier than me — probably worried his beastly frame will break my bed — but I can’t contain my excitement. I squeal and jump until I tackle Kade and we land in a flutter of sheets on the mattress.
“I got the job!”
“Oh, my God! With Celestial Weddings?!”
“Yes!”
“Babe!”
“I know!” I scream, and then I’m covering him in kisses until he captures my jaw in his hand and presses a good, long kiss to my lips.
“I’m so fucking proud of you!” he says. “We have to celebrate. I’m taking you out. Anywhere you want to go. Dinner. A movie. Dancing. To the beach. Hell, I’ll even rent you a yacht if you want.”
I pause, arching a brow. “Oh, you got money like that?”
“No, but I can find a way.”
I laugh, shaking my head as he presses another kiss to my lips. “I fucking love you.”
We both freeze instantly, our eyes shooting open wide, jaws slack.
“Uh…” I start, my cheeks hot, throat dry. “You know what I meant. Like, I love you, buddy! You’re super cool! You’re really fun! I—”
“I love you, too.”
That shuts me up again, and for a long moment, I just stare at Kade, at his endless hazel eyes, at the stupid, sexy smirk he’s wearing as he watches me trip all over myself.
“You do?”
He chuckles. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I really do.”
My heart flutters in my chest. “Holy shit.”
At that, Kade barks out a laugh. “I know, right?”
“Now we really have to celebrate.”
“Whatever you want,” Kade says, and then he flips me onto my back, pressing me into the sheets. “But first, I think we have some unfinished business…”
And then he kisses his way down and picks up right where he left off.
I come in less than sixty seconds.
I’M TRYING REAL HARD not to be a square right now.
I am quite aware of my square-ish tendencies. Know thyself, they say, and I know myself well enough to know that I’m not the most spontaneous or fun girl in the world. When I was in college, I put more emphasis on sisterhood and education than I did on partying or hooking up with guys. Still, the last year has changed me, opened me up, loosened my strings a little, and I really do feel like — for the most part — I’m a more laid-back version of the girl I used to be.
And yet, I really, really hate that Gavin is high as a kite right now, and that his whole place smells like marijuana.
I don’t really have anything against the drug. Jess smokes all the time and I know Skyler dabbles in it, too. I’ve read articles on the medical benefits for many people, and I believe Gavin that it helps his anxiety and depression.
But I also feel like he’s leaned on it instead of therapy.
And I don’t like that.
I took Bear’s advice to heart, and the next day, I called Gavin and told him that I needed him. I told him I really needed him to make time for therapy this week, and to spend a real evening with me.
And just like Bear said, he was quick to give me exactly what I asked for.
I don’t know why it takes me so long to come out with what I want, what I need, but it’s like I feel like the biggest burden in the world to ask for anything from anyone. But Gavin made it seem like the most natural thing in the world, and he went to therapy earlier this week and participated more than he ever has. And now, after a fun night out at the boardwalk and a nice dinner, we’re back at his place, cuddled on the couch.
Maybe Bear was right.
Maybe everything with us is fine, and I just needed to speak up.
“You want a hit?” he asks me, offering the joint as smoke slips through his lips.
I smile but decline with a shake of my head. “Not really my thing, but thank you.”
Gavin grins. “I had a feeling.” Then, his eyes go wide. “Ah shit, I didn’t even ask if you’re okay with me doing it while you’re here. Let me put this out.”
“No, no,” I say, stopping him before he can extinguish the joint. “It’s okay. I… I’m trying not to mind it.”
Gavin chuckles. “Yeah? How’s that going?”
“I think I just don’t understand it.”
“Well, that’s because you’ve never tried it.”
“On contrary,” I say, holding up one finger. “Last spring, I accidentally ate a whole pot brownie.”
“Oh shit,” Gavin says after another pull of the joint. “And?”
“And I vomited my brains out.”
Gavin laughs, but my stomach bottoms out at the memory of that night, because I didn’t just throw up literally. I also word vomited to Bear that I’d been pregnant with his child.