Page 62 of Give & Take

I should wait for her to go. Then, I should bypass theporch and walk around to my stairs. I really fucking should.

But I don’t even wait for Jenna to start up her engine before I jog up the main steps.

Lana’s steps.

When I reach the porch, she’s in the process of trying to climb quietly out of the swing.

“Nope,” I say, leaning against the porch pillar.

Lana freezes, her eyes meeting mine in the late evening light. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

I glance down at the driveway, where Jenna’s backing out. At the end, she glances up at me. I don’t think she can see Lana in the shadows. If she can, I don’t care. I lift a hand. She does too, though it’s a little tentative. Then she’s gone.

I look back at Lana. “Well?”

Her cheeks flush pink. “Well what?”

I fold my arms. “What do you think?”

Lana mirrors the action and flops back into the swing. It’s one of those curved wicker ones, with the chains joining up together into one big O ring, which hangs from a big hook in the ceiling. The hook groans as she shifts. I’d look up, but Lana’s too beautiful in her tank top and cut-offs.

She stuffs her hands under her bare legs next, then thinks better of it and sets them on her lap.

“It’s all right, Lana.” I squint out over the porch railing to the leafy green trees lining the street. “You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.” I don’t regrether having heard me though. I said all that for her, after all.

“No,” Lana says, stilling. “I shouldn’t have stayed here.”

I examine her for a moment, soaking up the way she looks in her worn tank top. There are paint splatters on it. Her hair is nearly spilling out of its messy bun. I’d very much like to reach up and release it. Have it tumble down around her bare shoulders. How would her skin taste, right there, in the soft pale of her throat?

“Well,” I say. “Goodnight.” I turn on my heel and head for the stairs, because I can’t just stand there getting hard.

“Wait!”

My chest floats a little, but I act like this is a great bother. I sigh heavily, turning around. I press my fingers into my hips. “Yes, Lana?”

She laughs softly at my dramatics. But then sobers. “You don’t have to go yet,” she says, so softly I can hardly hear her.

That balloon in my chest gets another puff of air. A big one.

I could say something about her rule here. But I won’t. Boundaries aren’t easy to set and I won’t make a mockery of them.

Instead I just say, “Are you sure, Lana? You set up rules. You don’t need to feel?—”

“I’m sure. Let’s just…put that aside for a moment.”

I stuff my hands in my pockets, making hard fists to prevent myself from not swan diving into the swing next to her. I need to give her every chanceto hold firm.

But when she sees me hesitate, she slides sideways on the swing and patting her hand down on the cushion.

The hook creaks again as she moves. There’s something about the vulnerability of that sound. The fact that there’s only one little piece of hardware holding everything together—it feels so similar to our situation. Like there’s just one tiny piece keeping us in place.

For a moment we stare at each other, like we’re daring the other to move. This feels like a pivotal moment. Itisa pivotal moment. I just want to make sure she’s making the right choice for her.

Yet even though there’s a whole porch length between us, it’s like our locked gaze ignites something in the air. It crackles like it’s filled with frayed wires.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m coming over.”

What I want to do is make a beeline over there, pull her out of the swing, and press her up against the wall. Better yet, pick her up, wrap her around me and take her upstairs.

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