A small scraping sound awakened me a short time later as Peter’s head popped up through my floor. He smiled softly as he pulled himself through the gap to lay next to me, staring up at the ceiling.
“You know, I have always loved this treehouse,” he slipped his fingers through mine, and held tight.
“I know,” I whispered. Why did I whisper? “It’s like I can feel my dad Peter, every day like he never left me.” Tears sprang to my eyes, and I looked away.
He tilted my chin so I was stuck staring into his softened hazel gaze, “He didn’t leave Rae. Not like that.” Peter inhaled a deep breath and let it out before answering, “I remember how he looked at you, how he loved you. You were his precious baby girl.”
Peter was almost a year older than me, a senior, even though we were in many of the same classes. These were combined in our small school. I used to tease him about being smarter than he was, gloating that I received better grades than he did. For some reason, it seemed to really bother him. Now I had a feeling that it didn’t matter. He was like a brother to me back then, and my father doted on him, caring for him like he was his own son. It meant a lot to Peter. His father was always gone and never had the time for him.
“I know it wasn’t on purpose, but . . .” I sighed shakily. “I miss him, Pete.”
I rarely called him that. Not since we were little kids.
“I know. I miss him too,” his gaze darted to my lips and back up to my eyes. “Rae . . .” They lowered completely as he pressed his mouth softly to mine.
This kiss was entirely different than the feather caress at school. A passion I didn’t expect radiated from deep within him, coming off his body in thick waves. He leaned over and deepened the kiss as his arm snaked around my torso.
My thoughts scattered. I forgot everything but the way his lips felt pressed to mine. A slight moan sounded low in his throat as he pulled me closer against his solid frame, leaving me breathless when he leaned back.
“Peter,” I gasped.
He smiled, a deviant grin that made my knees weak, “You have the softest lips, Rae.”
He would know now, wouldn’t he?
I didn’t dare speak, afraid my voice would squeak. Instead, I stared deep into his eyes. For the first time I noticed the little flecks of green and gold that lingered inside his hazel irises.
“Damn,” he laughed lightly, “I want to kiss you again.”
He did. This time I couldn’t help my response as my fingers inched their way up and around his neck. Peter seemed surprised but kept his lips pressed to mine.
“Rae,” his breath was unsteady as it swept over us. “Say you’ll be mine.”
His warm lips trailed from my mouth, past my ear, to the delicate flesh of my neck, just below my earlobe.
“Peter . . .”
His hand rose as his fingers brushed across my cheek, his eyes holding mine steady, “Surely you know how much I care for you. It’s never been a secret Rae.”
I knew. In my heart I had known it all along, “I . . .”
How did I say the right thing? How did I tell him I was afraid? How did I describe the frantic beating of my heart and the butterflies gathered in my stomach that had consumed me since his first kiss earlier that day?
My eyes must have betrayed me.
“Are you afraid?” At my silence, he frowned, “Tell me what is bothering you?”
I shook my head. He would think I was being foolish.
“Talk to me, baby . . . please?” the pleading sensual huskiness of his voice melted my body into little squishy pieces like plops of jelly on the wooden floorboards.
“I’m afraid . . . that this will change our friendship . . . the way we work.”
I realized then that Peter and I worked together, fit like jagged puzzle pieces slipped together in perfection, and I didn’t want to mess that up. Our camaraderie and easy teasing banter kept things simple and uncomplicated. Did I want that to end? Was I ready for more?
His eyes softened, “We change constantly Rae, it’s a part of growing up. Neither of us is little kids anymore. We can’t change the inevitable.”
He was right. Peter would graduate this year and go into the military. It had been his dream since he was five years old. Next year I would be a senior. Life was creeping up on us. So little was left of the ease and freedom of youth.