Chapter Eight

We became a couple, and I could not believe my luck as I spent countless mornings and evenings with Jake by my side. He kept his promise, he cared for me. For the first time since my father had died someone chose to put me first. Jake said I fit right into his life, the missing puzzle piece he never knew existed.

A week after our first kiss, Jake invited me to the house he was renting with Alice. It was raining cats and dogs outside, the drops slicing at my skin like icicles, so our usual walk was out of the question.

I'm outside, the text pinged on my phone.

Through the glass of the dormitory entrance door I saw two lights piercing the waterfall of a rain. In a few seconds, I ran from the door to the car. The fabric of my hoodie was soaking wet. Jake looked at me, a smile cracking into his gaze.

"You look nice," he said and caught a wet strand of my hair between his fingers, planting a kiss to my jaw and sliding his finger down the nape of my neck.

Before shifting into gear, he cranked the heater up and I shivered when the hot air blasted in my face, drawing me back into reality.

"Alice will get you something dry," he said, eyeing my outfit.

I nodded.

"You didn't mention that you have a car," I said.

"It's useless on campus, we get everywhere on foot. It's handy while grocery shopping and when we need to drive back home."

"I never got a chance to become a comfortable driver, since I always caught the train from here to my hometown, and it's not like I need to go there anymore," I said and I felt Jake's warm fingers find mine and squeeze lightly. "But my dad did leave me a car. It just sits there, covered by the house."

"Why don't you use it?" he asked.

"I guess I'm afraid."

"Of the car?" he asked.

"Of driving, the responsibility. I'm not sure I drove more than ten times after I got my license."

"You just need practice. You can drive this rusty old thing for starters and then we could go and fetch your car if you want," he said, his eyes on the road. The rain was easing a little.

"Actually, I would love that," I said, beaming.

"But I must warn you, I'm the most boring and slowest driver in the world," he said.

"That's good. Miranda and Brian drive as though they're invincible, that's why I never asked them to coach me."

"Oh, yes, I remember how our trash cans were always crumpled from Brian's bumper. He always thought it was a marvelous idea to drift at full speed into the driveway."

"Were you close when you were neighbors?" I asked.

"Not really," he said and scratched his nose. "It's difficult for me to become close with anyone, and when I was younger it was even harder. I was shy and awkward with kids my age. I guess if I wasn't that into sports in school, I would have been an easy target for bullies. But I blended, always participating just as much as needed to be able to get away with wandering off in the quietness of my own world."

There was a pause, as I processed his words. That tall, handsome man, so impossibly attractive and kind—one of the smartest people I had met—had difficulty interacting with people.

"Is it easier with me?" I asked quietly.

He looked at me for a second and turned back to the road, something warm playing in his eyes.

"It's natural with you."

And that was more than enough.

Jake pulled into the driveway by a tiny white house, just behind a canary yellow Volkswagen Beetle.

"It's Alice's," he said. "And she's an awful driver, never ask her to teach you if you don't want to receive regular speeding tickets."

While we were driving through the piercing rain, the wind picked up, and it was difficult to even open the car door, the draft pulling the door inward just to throw it out again. I caught it on time and was soaked when a gust of wind blasted rain into me. We ran to the porch and stood there panting and laughing.

The light brown of his hair got darker when wet and his curls stuck to his forehead. I lifted my hand to his cheekbone, catching the rain drops under my fingertips.

And suddenly I was not cold anymore, as warm lips pressed into mine and a slow fire lit inside me. As rain poured just feet away, slashing at the air, he sheltered me in his arms. It felt so natural to stand in his arms. Perfect.

* * *

Slow jazz music filled the house when we stepped inside. Alice sat on a red monster-sized sofa, reading. She looked up and smiled when she saw me.

"Finally, he's brought you here," she said.

"That's her way of greeting," Jake said. "Could you please give Emily something dry to wear while I put her clothes into the dryer?"

"Sure, come with me," Alice said and stood up, her movements graceful.

She was wearing burgundy yoga pants and a white silky kimono, her hair up in a messy bun. Even at home, Alice managed to look chic. We climbed the narrow staircase to a small corridor with three doors.

"The house is tiny," Alice said, leading me to the right door.

She opened it and a faint smell of vanilla hit me. The room had white walls. A big window opened toward the swinging tree outside. A wide bed with blue sheets filled almost all space, a big white dream catcher hung above it, the feathers swaying.

An ornamental rug covered the floorboards and a tiny white desk stood in the corner of the room, different prints of still art, video game graphics, and digital illustration were pinned to the white wall above it. A bookcase ran up to the ceiling, the familiar covers catching my eye.

The room was a direct reflection of Alice's personality. Her interests scattered here and there. She opened the door to a walk-in closet, which was the size of a usual cabinet and only held shelves.

"It's so cozy in here," I said.

"Thanks," she said and smiled at me, dimples playing on her porcelain cheeks. "This should be comfortable."

Alice put the clothes on the bed.

"You can change here." She brushed past me out of the door, and with a light touch on my elbow, she was gone.

I peeled off my soaking hoodie and put on a soft wool sweater, which smelled like her. The black pajama pants had a rope belt, which was perfect because I was wider in hips than she was. I looked around, feeling like Alice in Wonderland. Her sweet vanilla scent hung in the air, on the clothes I was wearing, between the books and pillows. She was all light, while I was all dark.

I shook my head, grabbed my wet clothes from the floor, and shuffled downstairs.

They were both in the kitchen, which was also tiny. Any other two would not have managed to operate there simultaneously, but their movements were oddly synchronized and they flowed past each other. Alice was brewing a glass pot of tea, while Jake spread cookie dough onto an oven tray.

"Hope you like herbal tea," Alice said, balancing a tray with three cups and the pot on a wooden serving board.

"I'm not sure I've had it more than twice in my life," I said. "Let's find out."

Alice put the tea on the table in front of the TV, poured three cups, and passed one to me. The smell wafting from the pot reminded me of mountains and green hills. She climbed onto the sofa and sat in a lotus pose, taking a sip of her tea silently.

I sat on the edge of the couch and hugged the cup with both hands, the warmth finally reaching my fingertips.

Alice scooted over to me and wrapped her fingers around mine for a second.

"You're freezing," she said.

I didn't get a chance to react to the touch because she stood up and went upstairs. In a few moments, she was back with a cream-colored fluffy wrap.

"You need to drink that while it's hot," she pointed to the steaming cup in my hand. "It'll warm you up."

I nodded and wrapped the soft fabric of the wrap around my shoulders, immediately getting even more comfortable.

The rain was slashing at the windows, the wind beating the walls of the house. As I looked at Alice, who was leafing through movies on Netflix, and as Jake came back in and wrapped his hands around me, I felt at home. Surrounded by the roar of nature and the smell of cookies and vanilla and herbal tea, I wanted to pack that moment away and save it in my memory forever.

We watched a comedy from the nineties, all of us laughing, Jake's hand always touching mine, and Alice sat on the other side of the sofa, her long legs just inches from my thighs.

"Let's make a pizza," Jake said after the movie ended.

"Like order pizza?" I asked.

"Like make it from scratch," Alice said, groaning.

"I have the dough ready in the refrigerator. You don't need to help," Jake said to her. "Alice hates cooking. But you," he said and looked at me, "can help."

I stood up, following him to the kitchen space, that in a moment filled with ingredients from the fridge. Before I even washed my hands, Jake was already rolling out the dough on a floured surface. So that's why he didn't eat out a lot.

"Wow," I said as I watched his hands working. "What should I do?"

"It seems Emily is more like me," Alice said, standing on the threshold. "I'm useless in the kitchen, I can only wash dishes. While Jake is a god of cooking."

"If you want, you can slice mozzarella," he said.

I took a brick of mozzarella, a knife, and a cutting board and stood in the corner.

"I had no idea you liked cooking," I said.

"I have a lot of secret talents and you have plenty of time to find them out," he winked, and it was the sexiest wink I'd ever seen. It made my cheeks pink. But there was also one more thing that made my cheeks scarlet.

"Alice is right, I have no idea how to cook anything more difficult than fried eggs," I said.

"It seems that I'm cursed with women in my life who are awful at cooking," he laughed. "Just slice it and cut the slices in four. And Alice," he called her because she retreated to the living room, "you can wash arugula."

She made a funny face at him, but took a bundle from the counter, cut the rope that was tying it, and went to the sink. Our bodies almost pressed together in the tiny kitchen.

"Can you believe that every Saturday he goes to a farmers market ten miles out of town to buy fresh groceries?" Alice whispered. "How boring is that?"

I laughed.

"That boring helps you save your health, and that figure of yours," he grumbled.

"Okay, I know. You're going to eat so healthy with him. He's perfect, wait "til he explains how he sorts the trash," she whispered to me and opened the drawer under the sink, where seven containers with different labels stood.

"The planet is dying and we need to live sustainably to save it. Anyway, are you ready with the mozzarella and arugula?" he asked and looked at us, three uneven slices lying on the board, and Alice only a few leaves in. The perfectly shaped pizza was lying in front of Jake, white dough covered with tomato sauce, slices of prosciutto, olives, and dried tomato.

"Yeah, the two of you are hopeless," he said and took the knife from my hand, cutting perfect slices while I backed away.

We ate pizza while watching the latest movie about superheroes, the olive oil sprinkled on arugula dripping down our fingers.

"I'm going to bed," Alice said after the movie ended, "miles to run in the morning."

"Are you a runner?" I asked.

She nodded. "Well, I'm trying to be. I'm preparing for a half-marathon."

That explained her well-defined calves, narrow hips, and perfect body. I almost said that out loud, and Alice watched me for a second longer, as if reading my thoughts.

"Bye, Emily, or," she said and looked at Jake, a sly smile forming on her lips, "maybe I'll see you in the morning."

"Bye," I said, blushing.

She waved and disappeared upstairs.

"I can drive you home, if you want, or you can stay here," Jake said, and his fingers found mine, waking a light tingle down in my core.

He moved closer, pressing his lips to the nape of my neck and biting my earlobe lightly. "If you wish to stay I'm not sure I can keep my hands away from you tonight."

I swallowed hard, as the tingle turned to fire.

"I'm staying," I whispered.

"Perfect," he said, his hand tracing the hem of my pajama pants, my breath hitching inside. He tugged on the rope, making the waistband go slack around my hips, his fingers touching the soft skin above my underwear. I lifted my eyes to him, and he found my lips, his tongue scraping mine.

"Let's go upstairs," I said, my voice shaking.

He slipped his fingers just an inch inside my panties, my heart hammering in my chest as he planted a kiss to my collarbone.

Then he stood and pulled me up. Jake tied my belt, grazing the skin below my navel. A sharp need ignited every inch of my body. My bra was suddenly too tight, the seams of my lingerie cutting my skin. I wanted to take it all off, I wanted his lips in the places that burned. I needed it.

I touched the fly on his pants, sliding my hand up and down his jeans.

"We'd need to wait "til the morning," Jake said, "when we're alone. This house doesn't hide any noise."

I saw how difficult it was for him to say those words, my hand still on his jeans, his eyes half-closed as he rubbed back against my palm.

"Okay," I said and stepped back, bending down to pick up the plates from the table.

Jake crossed his arms and took in the view from behind. I made an effort to concentrate on the task at hand, but I'd never felt so hot, so wanted. His face was serene, but his eyes were on fire.

I picked up the plates and went to the kitchen, quickly turning on the tap and bringing my hands under the icy water.

Jake brought in more plates and stood behind me. He found my fingers and turned off the water.

"Don't make a sound," he whispered, scraping the back of my neck with his teeth. His left hand crawled under my sweater, finding my bra, his right went down between my legs, the fabric pressing into my hot flesh. My hips started moving, my back pushing against his chest, I felt him pressing me into him.

"I'm not sure I can wait "til the morning," I whispered. I needed him under that fabric.

"God, this is difficult," he said and stepped away. I was breathing hard, my fingers still gripping the countertop.

"How are you doing this?" he asked, looking deep into my eyes.

"Doing what?"

"Pulling me, I physically can't stay away from you," he said.

Something wild threatened to tear away my composure. One more moment in those eyes and I'd be lost.

"I don't know," I managed to say.

We went up the stairs. Jake opened the left door, revealing light gray walls, a bed with dark gray sheets, a bookcase similar to one in his sister's room, a table with a laptop and open books, and a leather chair by the window.

"Can I take a shower?" I asked.

He gave me a towel and his shirt and showed me to the bathroom, the middle door at the end of the upstairs corridor.

I sat on the edge of the bathtub and took a shaking breath. The fire of burning desire was new to me. The few times I had had sex before, it had been awkward and flat, nothing like the heat that cracked between us any time our bodies met.

My thoughts scattered when I imagined the night ahead in his bed, close, almost naked.

It took time to calm the fire as I stood under the scorching hot water of the shower. The scent of his shower gel filled the room and I did my best not to bask in it.

When I entered his bedroom, Jake sat in the leather chair, a book in his lap.

"Never before has a book been so boring," he said and slowly looked me up and down.

I wore one of his numerous white shirts, it went down to my hips, revealing my naked legs. His gaze stopped at my painted black toenails.

Jake stood up and walked to me. He lifted his hand and gently pulled my hair tie. My dark strands cascaded down the white shirt.

"I'll be right back," he said.

In a few moments, I heard the shower running. I unhooked my bra and dropped it to the leather chair he was sitting in before. The crisp sheets grazed my bare thighs when I dove under the covers. The bed smelled of citrus. I realized how distinctly different the smells of the two people living in this house were, how I shed the soft sweater which smelled of vanilla, and draped on the lemon-scented shirt, how just a few feet away that girl was sleeping, and how my body ached to be touched.

Jake wore a black shirt and black briefs when he came back. I gulped audibly when my eyes landed on his bulging underwear, and he groaned when he saw my bra on the chair. He turned off the main light, sinking the room into the glow of a bedlight.

Jake stepped closer and pulled away the blanket. He bent down to kiss my knee, his fingers curling up around my black panties when he kissed his way up my inner thigh. My hands were lost in his curls, the bright blue fire of his eyes meeting mine just to move an inch higher. But when his lips were dangerously close to the place that burned, he straightened up.

"Tomorrow," he said, his voice breaking.

With shaking fingers he clicked off the switch of the bedlamp, plunging us into darkness.

I could barely breathe when he laid down by my side, still. God, that was difficult, the taunting need.

"Please touch me," I whispered.

And for a humiliating moment, he was still, only rasping breaths.

"Jake, please." I was begging.

And his hand landed on my thigh, his fingers squeezing my flesh lightly, just to move up, so, so slowly under my shirt. He took a sharp breath in when his fingers wrapped around my breast, when he found my nipple with his fingertips, when his fingers roamed. My heart was hammering just inches from his fingers when he went to slowly trace down my abdomen. He pulled my panties away, rubbing his fingers in my wetness.

A moan escaped my lips, and his left hand covered my mouth, gently. His fingers were slow, mocking, but I was losing myself anyway. I brushed against his fingers, rotating my hips, pressing his hand with mine. As he moved faster, drawing the maddening circles around the spot that burned, my moans died in his palm.

My nails dug into his thigh, and with my other hand, I was touching my breasts. I could not feel my legs as numbness spread from the tips of my toes, and with his final move, I came with a cry his hand did little to muffle.

He found my lips and I moved my hand down to touch him, but Jake caught it and pinned it above my head, his fingers wet against my skin.

"Tomorrow," he whispered and kissed me again, deep and slow. As I pressed my ear to his chest, I slipped away into sweet delirium.