Page 77 of Between the Lines
We get ready separately, but as my hand closes on the front door, Nathan spins me around, backs me gently to it, and captures my lips in his.
His body has always screamed aggressive and possessive, but his lips upon mine are reverent, a kiss that is equal parts gratitude and regretat letting me go, like he knows this has to be the last time.
His big hands cup my cheeks, and I hold onto his forearms for a moment before tilting my head in an attempt to deepen the kiss. My fingers slide up into his hair from the back, but the moment my tongue slips out to touch his, he grunts, and pulls away.
His glasses are a little foggy, which doesn’t makeanyof this easier, to see how desperately he wants to hold on, too.
“Thank you, Claire.”
He is a man of few words. Not one for big speeches. And maybe, in the end, it’s better for both of us that we part without fanfare.
thirty-two
claire
“I just don’t seehow you guys have time to read,” Lucy says, shaking her head as she stabs her salad. “Idon’thave children, and Aaron and I are exhausted by the time we get home most nights.”
“Reading is my me-time,” Juliet says. “Sam and Ihaveto find time to ourselves. Between the kids and both of us coaching, sometimes, youneedto be alone. And, I just so happen to like to do that with fictitious men and the things they do in the bedroom that I could never imagine my own husband doing.”
She shrugs. I snort. Penelope tosses her head back in laughter.
“What?!” Juliet exclaims. “Sam would never choke me and I’d never ask him to. But that tattooed biker in PJ Layne’s newest? Hotdamn.”
“I have DMed her on Instagram about how good her smut is. No shame,” I say.
“At least Sam gets to reap the benefits afterward,” Lucy shrugs.
Juliet pumps her eyebrows, smirks, and says, “One-hundred percent.”
I absolutely needed this—time with women I’ve decided I can call friends, talking about absolutely nothing important. So far, no one has asked me about anything other than how my weekend was,and my preference in fictional men. No one is digging below the surface, because they’re all too clearly bogged down by the Monday blues to handle much more than surface level conversation. After the weekend I had, this is about as much as I can handle.
“ThereadingI can understand,” Penelope interjects. Her ankles are crossed, feet propped up on the student desk in front of her. “It’s theromanceI can’t wrap my brain around.”
“What do you read then?” I ask.
“Murder mysteries. Psychological thrillers. Ireallylike to freak myself out before I fall asleep.”
“We should start a book club!” Juliet suggests. “Seriously guys, it’ll give me an excuse to get out of the house.”
“Can it be the upcoming PJ Layne?” I ask. “I hear it’s supposed to besuperage-gap. Like, ex-boyfriend’s dad, age gap.”
“Like, she dates her ex-boyfriend’s dad?” Lucy asks, exasperated.
“Mhm,” I nod. “Nothing says revenge like ‘I call your dadDaddynow,’ am I right?”
“Have you seen the dedications?” Juliet says. “They’re always,To Chris, orTo Shane. I hear she writes all of the men who have wronged her as the villains in the stories.”
Juliet and Lucy start to speculate about PJ Layne characters, but I notice Penelope is more reserved, her cheeks flaming the color of her hair.
“What days work best for everyone?” Juliet asks.
Immediately, all three women get out their planners, and I follow suit, but slowly. Maybe, if I can bide my time long enough, the bell will ring before they even realize I’m still “searching for a pen.”
The fact of the matter is, days no longer work for me. After what happened on Friday and Saturday, my parents sat me down and demanded my schedule from now until break, adding it in bright blue ink to the family calendar. No wiggle room. No chances to “act out.” I am an adult who has effectively been grounded,and I am both too embarrassed to admit that to my friends, and too ashamed to stand up for myself.
“…about you, Claire?”
Lost in the bottom of my tote bag, I don’t realize that it has taken the ladies all of a minute to match up calendars. My hand closes around a pen, almost in unconscious protest.Put them on the calendar. Prove a point.