Page 32 of Reality With You (Arden Beach #1)
NINE YEARS AGO
A sunset bathing the trees pink and orange. The first blossoms of spring sweetening the air. Distant music and laughter celebrating a victory.
L ennon sat on the metal bridge across the back of a billboard-sized electronic scoreboard, right behind the outfield of the Arden Beach Ballpark.
Beyond it, conservation stretched a couple of miles until it tapered off to a quiet beach.
No one had any reason to go back there unless they were servicing the sign, and the huge concrete wall below it made the area completely unobservable from anywhere but the immediate vicinity.
Her high-top sneakers dangled as she enjoyed the peaceful seclusion of it, waiting. Soon, the sound of someone climbing the ladder brought a smile to her face. “Congratulations, Mr. MVP.”
Dylan humbly dipped his head as he stepped onto the grated metal, freshly showered and changed from his baseball uniform into a t-shirt and jeans. His hair was tousled and damp, pieces curling around his ears and forehead. As he lowered to sit beside her, he winced, sucking air through his teeth.
“What is it?” Lennon scanned his body as he much too carefully hung his long legs over the side. “Dylan—are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing,” he reassured her, sounding as if he were holding his breath. “Just bruised my ribs a little when that guy slammed into me on second base.”
Anger flared hot again. Lennon had yelled obscenities from the stands, wanting to race down to the field and knee that other idiot player in the groin. “Let me see—”
“I’m fine, baby. I promise.” Dylan laughed and immediately winced again, earning a reproachful look from her. “I’m fine,” he repeated unconvincingly through a grimace he tried to twist into a smile.
Lennon grabbed the hem of his faded comic book tee and yanked it up, revealing a splotch of purple the size of a handprint blooming along the side of his abdomen. He sighed, conceding. Her heart rose to her throat. “Shit, Dylan …. That looks awful. You sure nothing’s broken?”
“Yeah. Dad got it checked after the game. It looks worse than it is.”
He always said that about his injuries. New cuts and scrapes and bruises appeared on his body regularly because the boy had no fear on the field.
He’d thrown himself into walls, slid into bases, been hit countless times.
But this one … . She felt light-headed, like she might slip off the edge of the railing. Heat formed behind her eyes.
“Hey, you OK?” His deep brown eyes searched hers under a low, concerned brow. “You’re gripping me pretty hard.” The corner of his mouth raised a bit.
Lennon hadn’t noticed her fingers had tightly curled into his shirt, turning her knuckles white. She didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want to let him go. “I just realized how much I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said, a little dazed.
Dylan’s expression softened with surprise. “You weren’t sure you cared that much before?” he joked, though he watched her intently. His throat bobbed.
“Obviously.” She half-rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop looking at the bruise. It felt like her heart was outside her chest, beating in front of her. “I guess … I didn’t realize I—”
“I love you, too.”
Lennon’s stomach flipped over, and warmth fanned through her. The words seemed to spill out of him like there had been no thought leading up to them, only a rush of truth pushing its way out. He stared at her wide-eyed, lips parted, looking as struck by it as she was.
After several seconds without her saying anything, his eyebrows twitched upward. “S-sorry, I shouldn’t’ve assumed—”
“No, you’re right,” she said, a smile growing that she tamed by biting her bottom lip. The truth settled over her like a blanket. It was one she’d known for a while, she realized. She’d just been too scared to admit it. “I do.”
Dylan’s eyes brightened. The corner of his mouth slanted upward. “You do … what?”
Lennon’s face warmed, and he apparently noticed, his lip lifting a little higher. She glanced at the faded scar on it, then back to his eyes. “Love you,” she said softly. “I love you.”
How he looked at her melted her heart, making it pool in her ribcage. Like he couldn’t believe she was real.
She could hardly believe he was, either.
Dylan leaned forward, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.
Goosebumps skated across her skin. Lennon closed her eyes, gently tugging on his shirt again, and he pressed his lips to hers in response.
Soft, chaste, like their first. The hard metal beneath them and the celebration on the other side of the wall drifted away.
For a moment, the only things existing in her world were this slow, sweet kiss and this boy who loved her … for her.
If she slipped off the railing right then, she would probably float over the trees.
No wonder so many people wrote songs about this.