Page 19 of The Now in Forever

TEN YEARS AGO

E d stops in front of a light-blue house with a white picket fence around it and holds open the gate in the fence to the backyard.

I’m confused. I thought we were at his house earlier. “Whose house is this?” I whisper as I wheel my bike into the backyard, smelling a sweet floral scent and cut grass.

“It’s my mom’s.” He points to a window on the second floor. “That was my room. It has her art studio in it now.”

“Is she here?”

“Nah, she works nights.”

He leaves his skateboard by the fence, so I follow suit and lean my bike against it.

There’s a large tree in the middle of the yard.

It’s too dark for me to tell what kind. Oak, maybe.

Porch furniture is arranged on the concrete near the sliding glass doors of the house.

Once my eyes adjust, the yard isn’t so dark; the moon is nearly full and casts an eerie light on everything.

There are roses planted along the back of the house.

I lean my face into a blooming pink rosebud.

It smells almost like lemonade. Ed fiddles with something next to the house, and behind me, the tree lights up.

Before, where it was all dark branches and leaves, it’s now a large tree house, the windows lit up from the inside, a ladder nailed into the sturdy trunk .

“It’s amazing.”

Ed smiles. “Thanks. I built it when I was twelve.”

“All by yourself?”

He nods. “Mostly. I’ve made some improvements over the years. Wait until you see inside.” He motions to the tree. “Shall we?”

“Is it safe?”

Ed puts a warm hand on my back. “I wouldn’t take you up there if it wasn’t. Come on. I’ll go first.”

He climbs the rungs of the tree, and it supports his weight fine.

Not that he looks like he weighs a lot, but if it will hold him, it’ll hold me, hopefully.

I climb up after him. Golden Christmas lights and a pink lamp softly light the small room.

There’s a record player on a milk crate in the corner, with another crate next to it filled with albums. Covering the floor is a large carpet with pastel pink flowers that looks like it belongs in a nursery, rather than a skater dude’s tree house.

A small bed neatly made with a dark-blue blanket is off to the left side.

In the center of the room is a couple of mustard yellow corduroy floor pillows and a dark wood coffee table with gold hair pin legs.

“This is so cool.”

Ed beams in the golden light. “Thanks. I found most of this stuff in free piles.” My face must give my apprehension away, because he quickly adds, “I cleaned it all.”

I take a seat on one of the floor pillows, running my hand along the frayed seams, while Ed puts on a record. “La Vie En Rose” fills the tree house.

Ed joins me, taking the other pillow.

“I bet you bring all the girls here.”

He runs a hand over his shaved head, and I imagine the feel of it under my palm. “I don’t. You don’t have to believe me, but only a few people have been up here.”

“Really?”

He nods. “I moved out right after high school. My mom told me I could stay and go to college, or I could get my own place if I chose not to. I barely got through high school in one piece. No way was I ready for college. And all I wanted to do was write. So, I moved out. But I still come here to write some nights when my mom isn’t around. ”

A pang of jealousy hits me. I’ve always wanted to make my own writing space, somewhere other than a lap desk on my bed.

And he built himself one when he was twelve.

And now he’s off to a fancy writing residency.

It’s amazing. I gaze at his chiseled face, staring at the walls of his own creation. He’s amazing.

“I’m more of a morning writer. I like to write before my day has started. When it feels like time outside of time.”

Ed smiles, a slow, lazy smile like he’s enjoying the sound of my voice. “Time outside of time. That’s a little what today has felt like, for me at least.”

“Me too.” The Christmas lights are highlighting the lines of his face. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

He catches me looking, and we lock eyes. Edith Piaf sings low in the background, the smell of roses waft from the yard, and I take a mental snapshot of this moment. I never want to forget how lovely it is. He scoots his cushion a little closer and gently tugs my strand of green hair.

I laugh. “Hey.”

He reaches for my hair again, this time running his fingers through it and cupping the back of my head, gently moving down the sensitive skin of my neck.

We lean in, and our lips meet, soft, tender, light as a feather at first. I open my mouth, and he does the same, our tongues exploring each other.

Desire spreads through me like warm honey.

My hands drift down the sides of his back.

He moves his hands down around my waist and lifts me up onto his lap, while we kiss like if we stop, some spell might break.

I adjust myself on his lap, moving my legs over and hiking my skirt up so I’m straddling him.

I’m never this bold, but something about tonight feels different.

I feel different with him. Bolder, sexier.

He lets out a moan as I feel how excited he is. He slides his hands up my back.

I break our kiss to lift my shirt up over my head. His eyes drink me in like a glass of cold water on a sultry day.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice husky .

“You are,” I whisper into his ear and nip at his soft earlobe then make my way down his neck, kissing and licking as his hands move over my bare back.

“Ed!”

The yell from below startles me.

I gasp and hop off him as if the voice came from inside the tree house.

“Ed, is that you?”

Ed clenches his hand into a fist. “Shit. She’s supposed to be at work.”

He goes to the window and leans out. “Yeah, Mom. I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought you were working.”

Putting my shirt back on, I try to stay low so she can’t see me.

“Not today. Not anymore. Come in. I’ll make us a drink.”

“Mom. What do you mean, not anymore?”

Ed pulls his head back inside. “I’ll be right back.” He moves close to my face and says in a hushed voice, “Don’t go anywhere.”

He gives me one last look before heading down the ladder.

I sit on the bed then try lying down. Arranging myself with my legs crossed just so, lying on my side so my tank top gives me some cleavage that normally I don’t have.

I look sexy. Ed will stop in his tracks when he comes back up.

The record player is still playing Edith Piaf softly, and I close my eyes for just a second while I wait.

The slam of a door wakes me up. I bolt upright, not remembering for a second where I am.

Then it all comes back to me at once in a whoosh.

I wipe my chin and am grateful Ed didn’t find me asleep and drooling in his bed.

So much for my come-hither arrangement. The ladder creaks, and Ed pops his head up, his brow wrinkled. I quickly move off the bed.

“How it go with your mom?”

“We should probably go,” he says, completely ignoring my question. “I can skate with you home.”

“Oh.” My heart sinks like a lead anchor in the ocean. Of all the things I thought he might say, that wasn’t one of them. “I can find my way to my friend’s house. You don’t have to?— ”

“I’m not going to let you go alone. It’s too late—or early at this point. I’m not sure. Where does your friend live?”

“Near Clark’s Point, just past Old Town.”

“Full circle for us, then.”

I nod, still feeling like my heart is underwater. I don’t want this night to end, but of course it has to sometime. I grab my bag and check my phone. It’s already after four. I was asleep for longer than I thought. “I’m ready.” I’m not. “Let’s go.”

We ride through the night. Everything is quiet and still aside from the sound of my tires and Ed’s skateboard wheels. Not a breeze rustling the leaves, not another soul in sight. The bar crowd is long gone.

The ride takes us around thirty minutes, and by the time we get to Robin’s neighborhood, I’m sweaty and drained.

I don’t want the sound of the skateboard to wake up Robin’s parents, so I stop a couple of blocks away.

Ed stops too, his chest heaving with effort.

He wipes his brow with the sleeve of his suit jacket, which he put back on when we left.

“I can make it from here.”

He reaches for my fingers with the tips of his. “Feel like watching the sunrise with me?”

My smile is so pure, I can feel it radiating off my face. “Yes. I would like that.”

Ed’s smile matches mine. He glances around at the large houses, all in the multi-million-dollar range. “This isn’t really my neighborhood. I’m not sure where to go.”

The sky is starting to lighten; we have to go somewhere close. “I know just the place.” I get back on my bike. “Grab on.”

Ed grabs my seat, and I pedal, pulling him on his board behind me.