Page 123 of Tiny Fractures
“Huh, it only took Steve two weeks.” Vada shrugs.
“Shane told me he was going to marry me on our third date, so he’s not a good measuring stick,” Tori laughs out loud. “But in all honesty, Cat, and I know we’ve all told you this, I’ve never seen Ran as happy as he’s been since you two got together. He’s just not super expressive and open,” she says, and it does make me feel better.
Summer nods. “Ran never really shares, especially when it comes to feelings. I mean, boys are stupid that way anyways, you know. Everyone always tells them feelings are bad—unless it’s anger. That’s apparently fine for them to express. I seriously think they believe anger isn’t an emotion,” she says, rolling her eyes again. “But anyways, he’ll come around. His face and body already say that he loves you—it’s super obvious. His mouth is just lagging behind a little bit,” Summer says, proud of her characterization of the state of things.
“Hmm, I never considered his mouth as lagging,” I say sheepishly, thinking about the way his mouth feels on my lips and on my body.
“Woohoo,” Vada howls, and pushes against me.
***
Traffic is terrible, and it takes us way longer to get out of the city than anticipated. By the time we make it to Shane’s, it’s just before five and I spot Ronan’s black Mustang parked next to Shane’s white Jeep in the large driveway. I hop out of the passenger side of Vada’s car and she, Tori, and I walk into the house followed by Summer, who pulled her car in behind Vada’s.
We find the boys down by the beach, all four of them sitting in the sand right on the shore, and we stop for a moment, admiring our guys before they notice us. My eyes are glued to Ronan, who’s wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a white, long-sleeved Henley, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His arms rest on his knees as he leans forward, his head turned to the left, and he’s laughing at something Shane said. I love watching him and I love being with him.
My feet carry me forward, and he turns toward me, sensing my approach. He gets up off the sand, wiping the light grains from his pants, and meets me in four large strides.
“Hi,” I begin, but Ronan silences me with his mouth, his soft lips on mine, urging me to part them. I do, and his tongue slips into my mouth, tasting me with so much passion that I can feel my knees weaken. His hands sneak under my shirt, his fingers stroking my low back, heating my skin.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he says when he finally pulls back, leaving me breathless.
“Jesus, you two need to do something about all that pent-up sexual energy already,” Vada gripes as she walks past us. “Do us all a favor, go have sex, and get it over with already, would ya?”
Of course, I blush and pull back from Ronan, who takes my hand instead.
“Come with me,” he requests. Still holding his hand, I follow him up the narrow flight of stairs—the whistling and catcalls from our friends following us all the way to the deck—and into the house where he leads me over to the large white sectional sofa.
Every time I’m in this house, I’m struck by how beautifully decorated it is. Shane’s mom really does have nice taste.
I sit on the sofa, looking at Ronan expectantly. He reaches behind the couch and retrieves a fairly large box wrapped in light-blue paper and decorated with a large silver bow. I face him, my left knee hitched onto the sofa cushion, and Ronan extends the present toward me.
“I hope you like it,” he says, suddenly not so sure of himself. I can see hesitation in his eyes and meet him with a smile.
“You shouldn’t have,” I say. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday!”
Ronan shakes his head. “Yeah you did; you gave me you, remember?” he says so sweetly and sincerely that, for the second time today, I wonder if it’s humanly possible for me to melt into a gooey puddle of love. I stare into his eyes for a few seconds before he raises his eyebrows and nods for me to open my present.
I remove the silver bow slowly, then carefully remove each piece of tape holding the wrapping together.
“Is this seriously how you open presents?” Ronan asks, and I can hear the impatience in his voice.
“Not usually, but this feels different,” I giggle.
“Don’t say that,” he begs. “I can’t handle the pressure.”
He chuckles, but I can tell he means it, so I hurry up and pull the paper wrapping apart, revealing a nondescript cardboard box. I open the lid and move the tissue paper to reveal a pair of shiny black-and-gold hockey skates.
“Ran,” I breathe, my eyes huge as I run my fingers over the embossed brand name on the side of one of the skates.
“I wanted to get you something that would mean I could have you around me more often. I know that’s selfish, but…”
I don’t let him finish. I drop the box with the skates to the floor, lunging forward and into Ronan’s arms. I push him back onto the couch, crashing my chest against his as I basically attack his mouth with my lips. I’m on top of him, my legs straddling his hips, my hands on either side of his head as I lean forward, kissing him, tasting him, absolutely devouring him. His hands glide under my tank top and run up the curve of my back before he presses on my spine, pushing me closer to him, even though I wasn’t sure that’s possible.
His present may not seem like a big deal to some people, but it means the world to me. He just told me that he wants to spend even more time with me, wants me to be involved in something that is a huge part of his life. And even though he thinks it’s selfish, I love the idea of sharing this with him.
We keep kissing like this for a few moments longer until, finally, he has to break our contact to come up for air, panting.
“So, do you like your present?” he asks, smiling, his hands still hot on my skin.