Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Lark’s lips brushed mine again, a barely there kiss, and the hairs on my arms stood at attention. His mouth was soft and tender and God, Lark. He was being so gentle, so careful; it was as if he was trying to memorize my lips, my tongue, and my taste. He groaned low in his throat as his fingers tunneled deeper through my hair.
“Henners,” he whispered, and my entire body erupted into flames.
My lips pressed harder as we ground together relentlessly. His tongue lashed past my lips and entered my mouth—hot, wet, demanding—then rasped past my teeth, acting like a tuning fork inside my body and creating a sensation I’d never felt before.
My eyes suddenly stung with tears because what I was experiencing was profound—like the best moment of my life. This just felt much more intimate than anything we’d done before, or maybe my emotions were all over the place these days.
I was beyond turned on. Ready to combust.
And then I did, right then and there. And I didn’t give a fuck that I made a mess because Lark followed shortly after.
“Wanna go for a fast-food run? Maybe some burgers or subs?” Spencer asked me after football practice the following Tuesday.
“You mean hoagies?” I quipped.
It was a North/South Jersey thing, maybe even East/West. If you were nearer to Philly or migrated from there, it was called a hoagie. It was the same with the Taylor Ham they served in the dining hall for breakfast, which was essentially a hard roll with pork, egg, and cheese. Spencer swore up and down that calling it anything other than a pork roll was sacrilege.
“Whatever, I just want to eat junk and study tonight.”
“Okay, let’s go.” I followed him to his car in the lot.
We rarely ate junk anymore because our coach was very health-conscious, but every once in a while it wasn’t a big deal, not with all the calories we burned on the field.
I was aware that Lark had another dance rehearsal, and I considered asking him to hang out again afterward, but from our earlier text exchanges, I knew he had to get home right away because his mom had to work. His friend Pete was going to help out with Star until he got home, and he felt guilty about that. After that night in the bell tower, we’d been texting nightly. One time he needed help with a math assignment, so I’d called him and it was all business. He met me before school one morning as well, for the same reason. But Spencer was still in the room, so we found a table near the student center and worked there. We got a few stares, but we both ignored them as we hunkered down to work. I didn’t mind at all because I enjoyed spending time with him under any circumstances.
But damn, after what’d transpired between us in the bell tower, it was hard not to want to reach out and touch him, and I had never wanted that with anyone before. That might’ve explained why I felt hot all over when our feet kept brushing under the table.
Spencer pulled out of the lot and drove toward the more commercial area of town, where all the stores and restaurants were located. It was during rush hour, and when we got stuck behind a bus, Spencer cursed, but he had no other option than to wait it out.
When the bus pulled to the next stop to let someone off, Spencer was finally able to get around it. I froze in my seat when I saw Lark step onto the sidewalk. He walked toward an entrance with fencing and a sign that read: Lakeview Trailer Park.
So the rumors were true. I was grateful Spencer didn’t notice because he was sure to make some off-handed comment.
I must’ve gotten lost in my head the next few minutes because when Spencer nudged my arm, I realized we were in line at the fast-food window already. “What do you want?”
“Um, a number three with a Coke.”
I tried to carry on a normal conversation with Spencer the whole way back to school but failed miserably. It would be stupid to bring up the trailer park with Lark. But it did help explain why he kept refusing rides home from me. At the same time, I found it surprising because of how straightforwardly he’d told me about his family’s other struggles.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Spencer asked as he parked.
“Starving and tired,” I muttered.
“I hear you.”
We went inside with our food and ate it in the common area in front of the television because Spencer was a neat freak about crumbs in our room. Plus, the smell would linger, and he’d have to spray that apple-cinnamon air freshener his mother had bought him, which made my stomach turn.