“If your dick makes magic, Bandit, then my pussy is a spellcaster because you’ve never looked this relaxed before.”
He hums, turning on his side and toward me, his other hand settling on my waist. “That she is, Bubblegum.”
I stick my tongue out at him and he chuckles.
And I realize that other than being dirty and filthy, his chuckles can make me smile too.
They can fill me with happiness as well.
Then, sighing and taking in his pretty face, I whisper, “I’m so glad you won’t be fighting anymore.”
“Me too. Getting blackmailed is fun.”
“You blackmailed me first.”
“Yeah, because getting stalked’s fun too.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Hey, you stalked me first.”
His eyes rove over my features. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
I bring my hand up to his hair and curl his strands like he’s curling mine. “How did you know about this place?”
Because it’s a beautiful place.
It has thick, carpet-like green grass, thick woods on one side and a shimmering lake on the other. Plus the sky looks really pretty from here, all starry and moon-eyed.
After we finished at the party that I never made it to, I told Reign that I didn’t want to go back home yet. I wasn’t ready to leave him, wasn’t ready for our night to end. So I told him to take me someplace on his bike.
And he brought me here.
To this beautiful lake and the kind of woods I actually like, all peaceful and quiet.
“Used to come here a lot,” he says. “Back when…”
He stops and clenches his jaw and I know.
What he’s trying to say.
So I finish the sentence for him. “Back when your dad used to be mean to you?”
He throws me a short nod and I lean in to give him a peck on his lips.
As kind of a reward for telling me.
I already know that it’s not easy for him, to talk about things. When you’ve kept so many secrets all your life — his dad’s abuse, his crush on me and God knows how many other things — it’s not easy to share.
But I’m glad he’s trying.
“When I was little,” he says, his eyes carrying a faraway look, “I couldn’t run away. I’d be trapped wherever he chose to put me. In my room, in a closet. In the basement. But then I grew up. I could… get out of things, places. Windows. So I’d run away. I’d go to,” he swallows, “Lucas’s house sometimes. Sometimes I’d steal my dad’s cars and drive around. One day, I found this place and it was so… peaceful. So pretty. I didn’t wanna leave.”
If I blink, I know my tears would fall.
I know they’re sitting right there, on the edge.
So I don’t.
I don’t want to cry in front of him right now. I don’t want to make it about me, make it so that he has to console me. Because I know he would.