Page 52 of If the Summer Lasted Forever
We say goodbye to the rest of the Tillmans and head to my house. It’s such a nice evening; most campers are out and about. They sit around campfires, waiting for dark. We get some pretty weird looks when they spot Landon. He acknowledges them with friendly greetings, but we don’t stop until we reach my house.
The front door is locked, so we go around the back. It’s locked too.
“Mom must have gone out,” I explain, and then I pull a key out of my back pocket. Even though it’s just dusky outside, it’s dark inside, so I flip on the lights in the kitchen as we enter.
As soon as my phone connects to the internet, a text message comes through, assisted by our WiFi. I read it and then toss my phone on the counter. “Mom and Mark went for dinner in town, and then they’re going to drive down to the city to watch a movie.”
“What’s the chance I’m going to get this all in my hair?” Landon asks.
I turn to face him, and then I freeze. His shirt is halfway over his head, and I’m left with an eyeful of toned stomach and chest.
“The chances are pretty good,” I say absently.
He pulls off the shirt, turning it inside out so it doesn’t make a horrific mess.
“Well?” he asks, flashing me a knee-weakening grin.
My mouth goes dry. “Well…what?”
His eyes glint with humor. “Am I covered in chocolate?”
Unbidden, my feet shuffle forward until I’m right in front of him. There’s chocolate on his collarbone, neck, a little on his jaw, and just a bit in his hair.
“Yeah,” I say. My voice sounds off, even to my own ears.
His smile flickers with something even more delicious than the icing. He rubs his neck, trying to get the frosting off. “Where?”
Never in my life have I shown this much restraint. I should win an award.
“Um,” I hover my hand over him, pointing out spots. “Here, here, here, and here… Just a minute. I’ll get you a paper towel.”
I turn from him, needing to put space between us, and walk to the sink. Is it sweltering in here? We should open a few more windows…
I wet a handful of paper towels and turn…only to find him right in front of me.
“Here you go,” I say brightly, trying to keep my eyes on his face and off his chest. It’s a very nice chest…the kind athletes have. A soccer player’s chest.
Landon takes the paper towels, but his eyes are on mine. The air gets a little too thick to breathe. “Thanks,” he says.
“Yep.”
I rest my lower back against the counter as he dabs at his neck, watching as he misses the chocolate completely. I could lead him to a mirror…or I could do it myself. That’s allowed, right? I mean, I’m just helping.
People aren’t helpful enough anymore—Mom used to tell me that all the time when I was younger.
I hold out my hand. “Want me to…”
He steps a smidgen closer. “Sure.”
I carefully dab at his skin, wiping the frosting away. We’re close and getting closer.
“So,” I say, desperately needing to keep my mouth busy talking so I don’t do something reckless. “Did you play sports when you were younger?”
“Lacrosse,” he says.
“Oh.” I wipe frosting off his jaw. “We don’t have that at our school. I think I’ve seen it on television though. It’s like a ball game with butterfly nets, right?”
He steps in, close enough I can feel the heat coming off his skin. Oh, this is bad. What are we doing? This isn’t how people who are pretending to be in a relationship act when they’re alone.
