All our souls are written in our eyes.
–Cyrano de Bergerac
Beast nods, the gesture a quick jerk. I might have missed it if I hadn’t been staring so hard.
I shake out my towel, setting it down next to his, and then lie down beside him, inhaling a deep breath and gazing up at the stars.
“Wow.” The sky is a glittering blanket above us.
It’s not exactly cold, but the air has a bite. I pluck at the bottom of my shorts. Then the hem of my tank top, trying to get comfortable.
Beast shifts next to me and then scoots closer, close enough that our heads are nearly touching and the heat of him presses along my left side. He lifts his phone so we can both see the screen, his arm brushing mine with the motion, and types on a blank note page.
Do you miss New York?
I contemplate the random question for a few seconds before answering. “Yeah. My parents. The excitement. There’s always something to do, somewhere to go. We’ve got the best art in the world and Broadway, not to mention the most diverse and innovative food that you can find. There’s something for everyone. And there’s this energy. It’s hard to describe, but the city itself has a pulse—like history has etched its heartbeat into the streets. You could watch an acrobat perform in your subway car one minute and then take a ride on a horse-drawn carriage in the park the next. There really is no other place like it.”
Beast watches me with wistful eyes.
It sounds amazing.
“Would you want to go? To New York?”
Maybe. Someday.
I nod and gaze up at the sky with a sigh. “Can’t see the stars like this, though.”
Do you miss your friends?
“Well, I miss Scarlett. But other than her . . . all my friends were Jack’s friends.”
Their loss.
“Is it a loss if we never had each other to begin with?”
Our eyes lock for second, his features exposed only by the soft glow of the phone.
Do you miss Jack?
I turn back up to the sky, unable to handle the intimacy of the moment while talking about the five years I spent in Azkaban.
“I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere. But all things considered, I’m glad it’s over. He never really understood me. We never would have been happy in the long run. When we first met, in high school, we were into a lot of the same things. Comics, Magic: The Gathering, nerdy stuff. As we got older, Jack would tell me it was all a waste of time. He was too old, too mature for the things we used to love. He worked in finance. Did I tell you that?”
He shakes his head.
“He got his master’s in financial management. That’s what he worked on while I supported him. And once he got a job and started making money, he . . . changed. I took care of everything, bills, dinners, cleaning, and I worked part-time. Yet despite providing so much, everything he did was serious and adult-like and everything I still loved was infantile. Annoying. A hindrance to his wannabe jet-setting lifestyle. I didn’t belong in his world.”
There’s something comforting about sharing these details under the cover of the night sky. Like it’s a temple where you can reveal your sins and secrets and all will be forgiven.
He types again, the words coming to life on the screen. I get it. The not belonging thing.
“Do you? You have a great family. You go to school. You have goals and dreams. You belong here. I’m basically a homeless wretch.”
He nudges me with his elbow before typing again. You are not a wretch.
“But I am homeless?” A giggle bubbles out of me.
He shrugs.
“I mean, it’s not inaccurate, you’re right.”
This is the only place I fit in—with Jude and Grace. Both of them are brilliant, though. I can’t even speak.
I gasp in shock. “You can’t?”
He stares at me, eyes wide. For a split second I think he’s going to be pissed but then he slaps a hand over his mouth and turns into me, hiding his face between my arm and the towel, his body shaking.
“You’re laughing.” I smack his shaking shoulder. “I finally get you to cave and all I had to do was make a terribly insensitive joke.” I laugh with him, my voice the only sound filling the night, but his quiet mirth is the best thing I’ve never heard.
Eventually, he flops onto his back again, and we’re motionless together, breathing in the crisp mountain air.
I’ve wanted to ask him something for a while, though I didn’t want to offend him. But now, after that little laughing spell, I bet no one ever talks to Beast about his silence. Grace and Jude are used to it, and everyone else is probably too scared.
“Hey, remember when we got attacked by the rooster?” I ask.
He shrugs, lifting his hands in a gesture of How could I forget?
“Yeah, right? Good times. I heard you, before I came through the trees. Were you . . . are you still working on talking?”
He turns his head on the blanket. Our eyes meet. He nods.
“Why can’t you speak?” The question is a whisper.
He bites his lip, drawing my eyes to his mouth. But then he’s typing again and I have to look away to read the words.
It’s . . . his fingers halt. Then start again. I don’t want you to think badly of me.
“That’s basically impossible. I would never think badly of you.”
He shrugs.
“You take care of everyone, Beast. You notice when people need something and you provide it, whether it’s a cup of coffee or a taste of home or tissues for a broken girl you don’t even know.”
He watches me as I speak, tracing my features with his warm gaze, like he’s searching for truth in the words, before he types again. If you knew everything about me, you wouldn’t look at me the same.
I turn toward him, lying on my side. “How do I look at you now?” The words are a whisper.
Our eyes lock and then his flicker to my lips.
My heart stutters.
Like I’m normal. Like you care. Like I matter.
“Because you are and I do. You do. I have to admit though, you were kind of intimidating at first. For like the first five months of our acquaintance.”
I’m too big.
I smack him on his shoulder. “You’re not. You’re perfect exactly as you are.”
So are you. You were never a broken girl. Only a homeless wretch.
I laugh and he smiles at me, a small one, but it’s there, the curve of his cheek glowing under the moonlight. Our faces are only inches apart.
I take a breath, about to speak, but then we’re kissing.
I don’t know who moves first, but the connection is instant, his mouth moving over mine, his hands spearing into my hair to lock me in place. I part my lips and his tongue slips inside. It’s like we’ve done this a million times.
It’s just as good as before. Better even, because we’re lying out in the open air instead of the confines of the truck. I can press the rest of my body against him. I can run my hands up his arms to his shoulders. I can hitch one leg over his waist.
One of his hands glides from my head down to my thigh, then to the side of my hip, grasping me in blunt possession and tugging me closer. Close enough to feel the hard length of him between us. I suck in a breath and desire ricochets through me. He’s hard and huge, the size befitting the rest of him. What would he feel like inside? The thought trips through me, adding another layer of arousal.
I edge up and push at his shoulder. He rolls over onto his back, stretched out before me like a sacrifice. A huge, hot sacrifice. I straddle him, centering myself right over the bulge of his arousal. Our clothes are still on, but the thin fabric is no barrier.
We stare at each other for a hot minute, the visual connection nearly tangible, both of us breathing like we’ve been running miles. My hands fist his shirt. If lust had a color it would be Beast’s eyes in the moonlight.
I grind against him and he sucks in a breath, his fingers spasming against my hips. Leaning down, I kiss the breath from his mouth and set up a small rhythm, shifting against him, enjoying the play of soft material between us.
The desire, already an inferno, expands. I lean back to enjoy the view of him underneath me.
He feels so good. Perfect. His hands link with mine and I tug them up, cupping them over my breasts.
I groan, loud in the silent air and he crunches up to cover the noise with his mouth. I’m panting into him, frantic, hips moving against him.
He leans back, and air whooshes out of him in one hot breath. His fingers tremble against my tank top. I show him exactly what I want and he’s eager to learn, his hands moving with greater speed at my direction and then his thumbs brushing, oh so carefully, at my nipples through the slinky fabric. I have to keep moving or I’ll die. Grinding against him is the only relief and I need it because this craving inside has teeth. And claws digging into me. Adamantium claws.
He collapses back onto the towel, his breathing heavy, his eyes dark and focused on me, his hands moving back to my breasts. He bites his lip, his eyes taking in everything like he doesn’t even know where to look. Hands slide under my top, then under my demi bra, the hot skin-to-skin touches nearly tossing me over the edge.
I pant and moan his name and then the orgasm shudders through me, quaking my entire being. The world goes dark as my eyes fall shut and I collapse on top of him.
His arms slide around me, holding tight and then he makes a noise, too, something I haven’t heard other than that day in the woods, a kind of murmuring rumble brushing my ear. His fingers grip my hips, moving me against him as he frantically thrusts. His erection spasms against my still sensitive core as he finds his own release.
We stay there, foreheads touching, sharing air.
“That was . . . that was . . .” I can’t think. No words. My mind is blank, my body sated and boneless.
His hands rub up and down my back for a long while.
Time passes in that pose. A minute, an hour? Who knows? Eventually, he leans to the side, reaching for his phone atop the towel.
I prop myself up to see his words.
I’m sorry. I’m messy.
I grin at him. “You aren’t alone. I am, too.”
His eyes search mine in the darkness before he types again. You enjoyed it as much as I did?
“You couldn’t tell?”
One corner of his mouth lifts. I thought so, but confirmation is nice.
“Let’s just say enjoyed isn’t a strong enough word. I need a word with more bite.”
Then both corners of his mouth kick up at once and he’s all-out grinning and my heart does a nosedive straight into my stomach.
Beast without the smile is broody and handsome and compelling.
Beast with a smile?
I might not survive it.
And with that realization follows reality. I can’t have this. This isn’t for me. He isn’t for me. The thoughts must be scrolling across my face. The delight of the past hour dies a slow death inside my heart, and Beast’s smile follows suit on its heels.
He tilts his head, a question in his eyes that needs no vocalization.
I slide off him in one smooth motion and kneel on the towel beside him. I lean my head back, focusing on the sky above. The blanket of stars is no longer soothing, but smothering.
“We shouldn’t have done that.”
He sits up on an elbow, watching me.
“I’m leaving. Soon. You’re . . .” I swallow. “With Caroline.”
He jerks up straighter, a hand on my arm, a rough shake of his head.
“I know, you aren’t, like, together with her, yet. But you want to be.”
Maybe Caroline is a weak excuse, but the full truth is harder to admit, even to myself. I’m scared. Terrified of this thing blooming between us, the strength of it. I can’t fall for him only to have it all end. Better to end before it begins, before my heart is completely annihilated.
He stills. Pulls his hand away. Bends his knees, resting his elbows on them, his hands tugging through his hair. He blows out a breath and shifts his attention toward the lake, giving me his profile.
“And even if Caroline wasn’t in the picture, I can’t be. I’m not letting go of my goals and aspirations, as lame as they may be. It’s something I need to do for myself. I gave up everything for someone else once upon a time.” And there was no happy fairy-tale ending. “I’m sorry.” The words are reflexive.
I’m not sorry. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I would do it all night long. But that’s not fair to anyone, and I’m leaving and he doesn’t like me that way. Well, he wasn’t complaining, so maybe it’s possible he could like me that way, but I’m leaving. Caroline is not. Caroline lives here. Caroline Caroline Caroline. Even if we both wanted to continue whatever this is, it’s not a good idea.
He belongs with Jude and Grace, and all the others. They are his self-made family and I’m a temporary blip.
He’s still staring out over the water and the silence is pushing me into a mess of rambling nerves. “It was a bad idea. You have Caroline and Blue Falls and I have . . . New York. And we’re friends, right? We shouldn’t have let it get out of control and now you probably feel guilty and I’m an idiot and—”
He puts a hand out and rests it on my forearm. A quick touch before pulling back.
I can’t read his eyes.
He stands and sticks out his hand. I take it. He tugs me to my feet and then gathers our towels and the lantern. I watch him in stupefied silence. He doesn’t try to communicate. He slips the phone in his pocket. Without another glance, he heads across the beach, back toward the path.
After a few seconds, I follow.
I walk behind him on the narrow footpath. It’s as silent as a tomb. More silent. The trees are more forthcoming with their feelings at this point.
Before we get too close to the tents, I stop him, reaching out and grabbing his hand to force him to a halt.
He turns partway toward me. It’s even darker here under the trees, his face a mask of grey slate.
“We’re still friends, right?” I keep my voice low.
He pauses for a long time, not moving.
My hand is still grasping his lax fingers. “I don’t have many friends.”
The words finally garner a reaction. His hand moves, a hint of a clasp, and then he releases me and nods.
That’s something. I should be relieved, but the sensation isn’t presenting itself. Now it doesn’t matter what he says, I’ve made it weird.
We can’t be friends. We orgasmed together. Friends don’t do that. How do I fix this? My stomach ties itself into knots. My brain goes into panic mode and lands on what feels like the most reasonable next thing to say.
“Do you still want me to help you with Caroline, or is that too weird now?”
His face is inscrutable. Heavy shoulders shrug once.
See? I knew it. I made it weird. I make everything weird. I’m the worst.
“That’s fair.” My mouth is dry. I clear my throat. “We’re friends, though. If you ever need anything, I’m here.”
Another short nod and then he’s moving back along the path, faster than before. His long strides put him farther and farther ahead of me. Once he reaches the campsite, he stops and waits. When I get close, he hands me my lantern and towel. Then he practically bolts away toward the tent he’s sharing with Grace.
The Flash is a turtle compared to this guy.
Back in my tent, I stare up at the canvas top like it will give me all the answers. But it’s blank, devoid of stars and explanations.
I did the right thing. So why does it feel like I’ve lost everything?