She slows down for a moment and I can feel her trying to figure this out. Eventually she asks, “Is that a good idea?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Because…”
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends travel together. And it would be cheaper for you this way to split the cost. You were going to travel anyway.”
“I was going to stay in hostels. What were you thinking?”
Obviously I was thinking about us sharing a hotel room.
And a bed.
And she knows this.
“Anders,” she says softly. “I feel like…what we have, whatever this is, is so fragile. So close to becoming complicated, and I really can’t handle complicated in my life right now. I can’t.”
“Neither can I. So we don’t make it complicated.”
She rubs her lips together for a moment and goes back to milking. “I think that’s impossible.”
“You don’t know that unless you try.”
“Well, maybe I’m too scared to try. Maybe we should just…”
“Continue milking the cow?” I make a joke. I give her an easy way out of this.
“Yeah. That.”
I nod and slowly get to my feet, my lower back hurting from crouching for so long. I stretch, arms over my head, and when I look down, Shay has stopped milking. She’s staring up at me with a curious expression.
“What?” I ask.
She has the look in her eyes like she’s about to tell me something, so I instinctively lean over.
Then she squirts milk right in my fucking face.
“What the fuck?” I exclaim, swiping my arm across my brow.
Meanwhile, she’s nearly falling off the stool she’s laughing so much. Even the cow gives a chortling noise, like it was her idea.
Thankfully I know just how to get my own brand of revenge.
Shay is very ticklish. Especially on her ribs. I used it as a flirting mechanism when I was young, a way to get us rolling around on the bed (or the floor), and I’m not too proud to say I’m about to do the same for the same reason right now. Well, that, and she deserves it.
I raise my fingers, wiggling them at her, and her mouth drops at the look on my face, that look that says I’m going to get her.
“No!” she cries out softly, and then scrambles to her feet, knocking over the stool. She tries to run past me, but I grab her by the waist and flip her around, trying to hold onto her with one hand while tickling her with the other. It’s hard work, considering she’s in a baggy jumpsuit, but even the thought of it has her laughing and gasping.
“Don’t you dare!” she yelps, as I try to run my hands up her side. Strands of hair of come loose from her braid, flowing into her face, anxious laughter falling from her lips. God, she’s never looked so beautiful.
Before I even know what I’m doing, before I have a chance to think, to stop myself and ponder the consequences, I’m pressing her up against the barn wall, our faces inches from each other, my body against hers, hearts racing.
And I kiss her.
The world stops.
Turns.
Reverses course for a brief moment when I remember exactly what it was like to kiss these soft and yearning lips, to have Shay breathless against my mouth, to feel her body slowly yield to my hands.
Then we both pause, breathe, the world stopping once again before she stares into my eyes and then everything moves forward with fireworks, my blood filled with hot urgency.
I cover her mouth with mine, her tongue teasing me, fueling me, while my hands disappear into her hair, holding her in place, grounding me. All the years of dreaming, the years of guilt and shame and regret, and now she’s here, our kiss passionate, wild, building with emotion and desire, trying to make up for lost time. Trying to undo every wrong.
A throat is cleared from behind me, followed by, “Anders,” in a stern voice.
Fuck.
It’s Per.
I rip myself away from Shay, breathing hard, and turn around to see him at the entrance to the barn, not looking too pleased. Then again, that is his natural face.
“Put her back where she belongs,” he says, motioning to the cow, though for a moment I think he also means Shay. Then he nods at Shay and says in broken English, “I need help with a sheep.”
I glance at Shay and she’s nodding back at him, smoothing down her hair. “Sure. Of course.”
She gives me a wary glance, her eyes looking haunted and strained, enough to set my heart on edge, and then she pushes off the wall and strides toward Per.
I watch as they walk off together into the bright light outside, their silhouette’s disappearing.
I rub my lips together, still tasting her.
I think we just crossed that line into complicated.
13
Shay Then
Oh god, I’m going to be sick.
I haven’t thrown up since I was seven years old and had the stomach flu, and I really don’t want to break that streak.
But my streak is over. The time is up. I leap from my bed, throwing off the covers, my fingers clamped over my mouth as I run for the bathroom, dropping to my knees. I barely get my head over the toilet before I’m heaving and vomit fills the bowl with sickening noise.
Gross. So, so gross!
I feel a mix of disappointment for not holding back harder and worry, because, well, why the hell am I puking?
Nerves, I tell myself. It makes the most sense. I woke up with my heart being squeezed, this feeling of total dread in my chest like something was terribly wrong.
Only, there isn’t anything wrong. At least, nothing new.
I mean, okay, I haven’t seen Anders for a week or so. He’s practically ignoring me at school, and when I do see him it’s just a
