Page 80 of Conception
She pulls away from me all too quickly, brushing the back of her hand against her cheeks. When I cup her chin and use my thumb to assist, she pushes it away, laughing it off. “I’m sorry. I’m such a sap. I don’t cry. Like, ever. I’m just being ridiculous.” She gives me a watery smile. “It’s just been one hell of a summer and I’m already mourning the sheer amount of orgasms I’m losing out on by you leaving early.”
She’s mourning orgasms while my insides are twisting at the thought of leaving her, not knowing if I’ll ever see her again.
Fuck.
I’ve really gotta get out of here.
I plaster on a grin. “Babe, you’ve got Polaroids and a camera full of snaps of me in various stages of undress. I know how good you are with your fingers. You won’t be missin’ out on too many orgasms.” I lean in with a wink. “They just won’t be as gratifying as they would be if they were my fingers. My tongue. Mycock.”
A pretty pink flushes her cheeks. “You might find a few surprises in your duffel bag.”
I raise an eyebrow and pick the bag up.
Her arm shoots out and she stops me. “No! Those are for later…when you’re far away from here and missing me.”
“Amelia, you tellin’ me you took dirty pictures of yourself?”
“It was Sunny’s idea. She helped.”
Hell, I love Sunny Mayfield.
I capture her mouth, sliding my tongue between her parted lips. She winds her arms around my neck and we stand there, savoring this, knowing all too well it’s the last time.
And then she unwinds her arms and lowers herself to the ground, giving my biceps one last squeeze before she steps back.
“I’ll miss you, Knox.” Her voice is laced with sincerity.
I think back to that first day, when she was just a girl I wanted to fool around with for the summer. I never could have imagined how much she’d come to mean to me. How ingrained in my soul she’d become.
Nothing could have prepared me for the pain of this moment.
I want to give her one last kiss. One for the road. But I don’t because, if I do, I may not be able to break away.
“I’ll miss you, too, Melia,” I offer, my voice husky and low.
Our eyes lock, and I think Amelia’s about to say something else. But before she can, Mrs. Mayfield’s morning greeting from down the lane breaks our connection.
“It’s that time, I guess,” she says on an exhale.
“Yeah, guess so.”
I pick up my duffel bag and chuck it into the back seat. After closing the door, I lean against it, taking in the sight of Amelia one last time. The very thought makes it hard to breathe.
She doesn’t want me to stay.
I don’t see how I can ever leave.
This was my fault. I put the blockade up, and she built her walls even higher.
Amelia told me at the beginning of the summer she didn’t want anything more. Apparently, she’s sticking to her guns.
What’s she thinking? Feeling? And then, before I can ask, she stands on tiptoes, gives me a kiss on the cheek, then lowers with a, “Thanks for the memories.” The only thing missing is a buddy punch on the shoulder. Which is funny as I feel like I’ve just been sucker-punched.
“Look—if you’re ever in the city, you can find me—”
She cuts me off, putting her fingers to my lips. “Why don’t we leave it up to fate?”
“Right. Fate.”
