that,” he said. “Huh. Wendy Lake, painter. Yes, I can definitely see that.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing.
He kissed her. “You’re amazing. You know that, right?”
“I’m not amazing , ” she said.
“Stop being modest,” he said. “I wish I was creative. You with your painting. And you’re a pretty good writer, too. Talented across the board.”
She smiled even wider, covering her face with her hands. “Thank you.”
“Maybe I’ll teach myself to play guitar or take piano lessons or something,” he said.
She laughed. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, “you know who you are. You have this identity. Painter. I don’t have anything like that.”
“You have an identity. Just because you aren’t creative doesn’t mean that you don’t have anything.”
“I need a thing, though,” he said, “I mean, what do I have? Future entrepreneur? Business nerd? That’s boring.”
This was the best and worst thing about Simon: he never stopped pushing to be better, but that meant he never stopped. Never stopped to be happy with himself. Never stopped to just be content, right there and then, with life.
So she kissed him. She reached for his neck and brought his lips to meet hers, kissing away the bad and the good and words altogether. He breathed in sharply, then pulled her up beside him. His hands were in her hair, clutching to the root.
“Come here,” he said, between breaths.
They were on their feet, lips locked, when she felt the window shutter behind her back. Hard. His body pressed up to hers, her own body pressed to the wall. There wasn’t any more air left and his hands were everywhere, in her hair, on her face, down her neck.
She kissed him harder, locking her arms behind his back and pushing herself against him.
His hands trailed down to her chest, and she shot backward.
“Wait,” she said.
He did, but stayed close to her. “What’s wrong?”
“I just,” she said, sucking in air, “I just think we need to slow down.”
“Okay,” he said. “You’re right.”
That was another thing about being official Wendy and Simon. The lines they had to draw. Wendy had never known how fast kissing could become more than kissing , how quickly air could disappear. Her emotions were taking a physical shape now, deep down in the pit of her stomach, stirring.
It was too fast. Too much.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. We’re okay.”
“Come here,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s just sit for a while.”
Her head fell back into his lap, the bugs swarming toward the light, and they rested, rocking.
“Top five favorite songs?” he asked her.
She unwound. “I need a genre. Without a genre, that’s just plain impossible.”
This was the best thing about Simon and Wendy, official or not. When it came down to it, they knew each other, and sitting on a swing, talking about nothing special was the best feeling in the world.
Chapter 23
Now
She signed onto her computer as soon as she got home, and he was already online waiting for her.
SGuidry4: So, how have you been?
WMLake3: I’ve been good. Back in Covington, working for a law firm. Living at home and trying to save some money. How about you?
SGuidry4: I’ve been pretty okay. Doing a lot of traveling. Living out of suitcases, waiting for layovers and eating a lot of airport dinners. Basking in the luxury, you know.”
She laughed, in real life.
WMLake3: I bet you enjoy that.
Claudia pushed open the door. “What’s so funny?”
“Get out,” Wendy shouted, throwing a pillow at the closing door. “
SGuidry4: It’s not too bad. Work is my whole life, basically.
She wondered where he was right now. At his apartment in New Orleans? Out of the country? She’d seen pictures of him in Costa Rica not too long ago. But where in the world was Simon right now?
Probably alone and bored, with nothing but his overactive mind for company. What other reason did
“Thank you,” she said, blushing.
He kissed her. “You’re amazing. You know that, right?”
“I’m not amazing , ” she said.
“Stop being modest,” he said. “I wish I was creative. You with your painting. And you’re a pretty good writer, too. Talented across the board.”
She smiled even wider, covering her face with her hands. “Thank you.”
“Maybe I’ll teach myself to play guitar or take piano lessons or something,” he said.
She laughed. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, “you know who you are. You have this identity. Painter. I don’t have anything like that.”
“You have an identity. Just because you aren’t creative doesn’t mean that you don’t have anything.”
“I need a thing, though,” he said, “I mean, what do I have? Future entrepreneur? Business nerd? That’s boring.”
This was the best and worst thing about Simon: he never stopped pushing to be better, but that meant he never stopped. Never stopped to be happy with himself. Never stopped to just be content, right there and then, with life.
So she kissed him. She reached for his neck and brought his lips to meet hers, kissing away the bad and the good and words altogether. He breathed in sharply, then pulled her up beside him. His hands were in her hair, clutching to the root.
“Come here,” he said, between breaths.
They were on their feet, lips locked, when she felt the window shutter behind her back. Hard. His body pressed up to hers, her own body pressed to the wall. There wasn’t any more air left and his hands were everywhere, in her hair, on her face, down her neck.
She kissed him harder, locking her arms behind his back and pushing herself against him.
His hands trailed down to her chest, and she shot backward.
“Wait,” she said.
He did, but stayed close to her. “What’s wrong?”
“I just,” she said, sucking in air, “I just think we need to slow down.”
“Okay,” he said. “You’re right.”
That was another thing about being official Wendy and Simon. The lines they had to draw. Wendy had never known how fast kissing could become more than kissing , how quickly air could disappear. Her emotions were taking a physical shape now, deep down in the pit of her stomach, stirring.
It was too fast. Too much.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. We’re okay.”
“Come here,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s just sit for a while.”
Her head fell back into his lap, the bugs swarming toward the light, and they rested, rocking.
“Top five favorite songs?” he asked her.
She unwound. “I need a genre. Without a genre, that’s just plain impossible.”
This was the best thing about Simon and Wendy, official or not. When it came down to it, they knew each other, and sitting on a swing, talking about nothing special was the best feeling in the world.
Chapter 23
Now
She signed onto her computer as soon as she got home, and he was already online waiting for her.
SGuidry4: So, how have you been?
WMLake3: I’ve been good. Back in Covington, working for a law firm. Living at home and trying to save some money. How about you?
SGuidry4: I’ve been pretty okay. Doing a lot of traveling. Living out of suitcases, waiting for layovers and eating a lot of airport dinners. Basking in the luxury, you know.”
She laughed, in real life.
WMLake3: I bet you enjoy that.
Claudia pushed open the door. “What’s so funny?”
“Get out,” Wendy shouted, throwing a pillow at the closing door. “
SGuidry4: It’s not too bad. Work is my whole life, basically.
She wondered where he was right now. At his apartment in New Orleans? Out of the country? She’d seen pictures of him in Costa Rica not too long ago. But where in the world was Simon right now?
Probably alone and bored, with nothing but his overactive mind for company. What other reason did
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