Page 1 of Give In To Love
PROLOGUE
JIMMY
I wishI could say my mother abandoning me at fifteen was a turning point in my life, but it turns out that what happened after made a more lasting impact.
Coming to terms with the fact that my mother didn’t care about me enough to stay had certainly impacted my life, but it was the boy I met the following day who would occupy my thoughts in the months and years to come.
I spent one day with him—several hours, really—but I could still recall the color of his eyes, the exact shade of his sun-kissed skin, the grace with which he moved, and the way one corner of his mouth tipped up just a little bit higher when he smiled.
And I recalled the gentle brush of his lips against mine. My first kiss.
He stumbled upon me in a place I thought no one knew about, on the banks of the creek along the north side of town. I knew that my brother Sammy came here sometimes, but he was at work. It was why I had come here. I’d needed to get out of our empty house, not wanting to be alone.
At the sound of a snapping twig, I turned to find him standing at the edge of the clearing, his face registering the same surprise mine must have shown at having the space unexpectedly occupied. When he didn’t say anything, I turned back to face the creek, resting my head on my knees, letting my toes squish in the mud beneath the water’s surface.
I heard him approach, felt the disturbance in the air next to me as he took a seat just a few inches away, but I didn’t turn to look at him. I didn’t have anything to say to this stranger disrupting my brooding.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Startled by the question, I turned and looked at him. “What?”
“Something is obviously bothering you. I just thought you might want to talk about it.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“Sometimes strangers are the best confidants. I have no skin in the game. I can be a good listener.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone my age use the word ‘confidant.’”
He chuckled, the sound of it sweet and musical. “I read a lot of Regency romance.”
Another surprise, though I didn’t respond. This conversation was ridiculous.
Apparently, he didn’t need me to reply because he continued talking as he bent forward and began removing his sneakers and socks.
“My mom says those kinds of books will rot my brain, but my grandma reads them and passes them along to me, and my mom doesn’t have the guts to tell her no. I don’t know why it matters anyway. No shade to those who enjoy high-brow literature, but in my opinion, a good story is a good story regardless of the genre.”
I happened to agree with him, though I continued to hold my silence. He slid his feet into the water, lay back on the rough patch of dirt, and closed his eyes. Surprised by his behavior, I stared at him, waiting for him to do or say something, though I wasn’t sure what.
“I can feel you watching me,” he said without opening his eyes.
My face burned at being caught staring, but I couldn’t help asking, “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking a nap.”
“Right here? Next to me?”
He opened one eye. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t take a nap right next to you?”
“I mean…” I spluttered, unable to come up with an answer that made any more sense than his actions.
“You’re welcome to join me,” he said matter-of-factly. “There’s something delicious about lying on the banks of a creek, feet in the water, sun on your face. The perfect summertime nap.”
And then he closed that one eye as if that were the end of the discussion.
I stared at him a moment longer, my mouth hanging open, and then, without making a conscious decision to do so, I lay back next to him and closed my eyes.
* * *
