Finding London (Flawed Heart #1) (14 page)

Maybe that’s why I’m so obsessed with London. I have to smile at the similarities. She can be as soothing as a breeze floating through the trees on a warm fall day or as dangerous as an ice storm on a busy highway during rush hour. Her mood shifts from hot to cold on a dime, yet both are equally thrilling. Through both, she’s beautiful.

I think she has some growing to do as a person. I’m not sure she knows exactly where her place is in this world—not that I do either. But I’m hoping, when she finds it, she keeps her fire because I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t find it extremely hot.

She stops wrestling with the water and wedges her paddle into the space down by her feet. She twists back, so she can see me. “I get the feeling you love all this sporty outdoorsy crap, don’t you?”

I laugh and nod my head. “Yeah, I do.”

“Are all our dates going to be outside?” she says with a sigh.

“Probably.”

She groans and throws her head back with exaggerated effort, eliciting another round of laughter from me.

“You’ll get used to it,” I say.

“I think I should be in charge of planning some of our dates then. That’s it. I’m taking you out next time.”

“That’s fine. It won’t be as fun as this though.” I offer her a wink.

“This isn’t fun. My arms hurt,” she says with a frown.

“How can your arms hurt? You’ve barely done anything.”

“Hey!” She sounds offended, but I know she’s just being dramatic. “I’ve been paddling…a lot.”

“That’s what you call it?”

“I hate you.” She pouts.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

London leans back as I continue to guide us down the river, which is fine by me. She wasn’t that helpful anyway. We don’t talk for a few minutes, and I take in the soothing sounds of the water.

After a while, I say, “You know that’s kind of a flaw.”

“What is?” she questions.

“Telling people that you hate them because they don’t say or do exactly what you want them to.”

“Is this, like, our thing? Pointing out what we don’t like about the other person. ’Cause, if it is, that’s not really good for building a relationship.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I am right. And you know what, Loïc? You pointing out all of my flaws is definitely a huge flaw of your own.”

“We all have them, London. No one is perfect. Wouldn’t you like to know what yours are, so you can work on them?”

She huffs out a short laugh. “Not really. You know, growing up, my parents did nothing but tell me how great I was. I’m really good at listening to the wonderful things about me. You should try that move.”

“Well, growing up, I was abandoned by the only people in the world who loved me. I was left to protect myself from predators who got off on hurting children and telling me how worthless I was every single day. I guess we come from different worlds.”

London gasps, and I realize that my stab at wit about my past didn’t end up humorous at all.

I’m such an idiot.

I wanted to keep the rest of the date carefree after my extremely premature deep confessions back when we were on the bank of the river.

“I’m sorry, London. I didn’t mean to say that. It was a horrible attempt at a joke. Just forget it.”

She nods, her expression one of sadness. She turns around, and we continue down the river in silence. She lifts her arm a couple of times, her hand moving to wipe something at the corner of her eye. I can’t see her face, but I think she’s crying.

Great, I made her cry.
This is why I don’t date—or at least, it’s one of the reasons. I suck at it.

I steer the kayak over to the bank. A truck from the kayak rental place is there, waiting to take us back to where we parked, eight or so miles back.

After the kayak hits the sandy bank, I step out and pull it out of the water. Reaching down, I grab London’s hand and help her get out. I hold her to me and hug her tight before lightly kissing her forehead. “Please forget my lame attempt at a joke. I’m not remotely funny. It’s one of my flaws.”

To this, she giggles, and I realize that it’s definitely a favorite sound.

“It’s definitely a flaw. You should really work on it,” she responds.

“I know. I’ll try,” I say with mock seriousness.

I lift her off the ground so that her neck is level with my face, and I nuzzle my lips against the soft skin beneath her ear. I breathe her in, letting her sweetness fill my soul.

I’ve got it bad for this chick.

That fact both terrifies and exhilarates me.

London was right earlier. I did contemplate never returning her texts or taking her out again. In this short time that I’ve been talking to her, something has been happening to me. I’m having feelings that I haven’t had to deal with in a long time. I’m thinking about people and places that I’d rather not think about. Hell, last night, I dreamed about Jessica, a girl from my foster home days whom I hated above all else—well, almost.

London came into my life, and so did a shitstorm of emotional baggage. It’s as if I can’t let my guard down to allow London access to who I really am without letting in all the sadness I’ve been keeping out. Apparently, my emotions are all or nothing.

As I said in my confession to her earlier—when all the feelings in my head decided to flow out of my mouth like vomit, unwanted and uninvited—for some reason, I think she’s worth it. I’ve been closed off for so long. I’ve decided to face my fears for once, and after years of being a coward, I’m finally ready to show an ounce of courage.

We get the kayak loaded up and take a seat in the vehicle. The ride back to my truck isn’t long. My fingers thread between London’s as we hold hands. No words are spoken on the way back. We’re both absorbed in our own thoughts. I would pay good money to know what she’s thinking.

The truck drops us off. The sky around us is getting darker. I come to this area often to go kayaking, so I know that the state park nearby has a hill where we can park. We hop in my truck and travel a few minutes down the road until I park at the perfect vantage point to view the upcoming sunset.

After getting out of the truck, I start to organize the blankets in the bed of it.

London chuckles beside me.

“What?” I ask.

“I just had this vision of our entire dating future taking place outside.”

“Sounds good to me.” I finish laying out the blankets. “Do you have complaints about the last time we were in the bed of this truck together?” I raise my eyebrow in question.

That statement halts her snickers. “Um, no. Definitely not.”

Even without the bright light of the day, I can see her cheeks redden.

“That’s what I thought,” I answer with a smug expression.

“Well, you know, we do live in Michigan, home of the eight-month winter. So, we’re going to have to spend some time indoors eventually.”

“Number one, I think eight months is a slight exaggeration. And number two, they make clothes to help with the elements—you know, snow pants, gloves…things like that.”

“No way. Winter is unbearable, even with all that snow gear. My mom was trying to get me to move South the other day—or at least look for jobs south of here. I told her no because Paige was here, but now that I’m reminded of the winters, I just might.”

The words have an almost tangible force to them as they come from her mouth. I feel them hit me in my chest, and I have to pull in a breath. I stare at her for a moment and imagine her leaving, moving away. I know I don’t have the right to care—I barely know her—but the thought of losing her hurts for more reasons than I can explain.

Her gaze finds mine, and I see something flash through her eyes—regret maybe.

“I didn’t mean that I am moving. I don’t know. I haven’t even started looking for jobs yet, to be honest. I’m going to apply to ones around here, too.” Her words come out fast, rushed.

“London, it’s fine.” It’s not fine, but there’s nothing I can do about it this very second…except maybe give her reasons to stay. “Come on.” I reach out and grab her hands, pulling her onto the blankets.

We get situated so that I’m leaning my back against the cab of the truck, and London lies between my legs with her back to my chest.

The night air is warm but not muggy. Michigan summers can be so humid that one sweats just from sitting outside. I’m thankful that it’s not that way tonight because all my accolades over the joys of being outdoors would all be for naught if we were both sweating our asses off. This moment would have lost all of its natural romance, that’s for sure.

London and I are silent as we watch the sun dip beneath the horizon among a sky of pinks and oranges.

When the big ball of light is gone and the sky is barely aglow with the fleeting colors, London turns around. She straddles my lap. “I don’t think I’ve ever watched a sunset before. Thanks for that.” She smiles sweetly.

“How can you never have seen a sunset in your twenty-two years of life? That isn’t even possible.”

“I mean, of course I’ve seen them, but I’ve never sat and actually watched one, like an event. It’s a much different experience to be still and really appreciate the beauty of it, you know?”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” I raise my hand and brush a chunk of her silky hair behind her ear.

As my hand retreats, I grasp the bottom of one of her locks and run it between my thumb and index finger. It’s silky. In all my experiences with girls in the past, I’ve never stopped to simply take them in. I guess I’ve never wanted to until now. It amazes me how soft they are, or maybe it’s just London. Everything about her—from her hair to her skin to her lips—possesses an enchanting smoothness that is completely fascinating to me.

When my gaze lifts from her hair to meet her eyes, there’s an air of scrutiny in her expression, as if she is trying to figure me out as much as I am with her. For two people in their twenties, we’re relative babies in this dating game. I know she’s dated before, but there is something different for her this time around. I can see it every time she looks at me.

I lift my hands to the nape of her neck and glide my fingers through her hair. The sounds of nature are around us with chirps of crickets and frogs in the distance. They all play the background melody to the crescendo of our breaths and the beating of my heart. Having London like this makes me insane with need. The way her body straddles mine and the short distance between our lips are maddening—in the best way. It’s almost completely dark now, but I can still see the desire shining in her eyes, mirroring my own.

She closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip as her head tips back into my hands. My fingers grasp her hair tighter. The movement causes her body to grind against me and my rapidly growing need for her. Unable to physically keep my lips away any longer, I lean in to kiss her exposed neck. My mouth nibbles, sucks, tastes, and kisses over her salty skin. It’s only the appetizer to the long meal that I know is to come, but just this small nibble satisfies me like nothing else has before. It’s not enough—I definitely need more—but it’s so good.

London groans into the night air. She grinds against me with purpose, and my lips become needier, urgently moving to sample every inch of her. I kiss up her neck until I’ve found her lips. I pull her face toward me, and my tongue plunges into her mouth. Her lips move passionately against mine. She tastes of pure ecstasy, pure heaven.

She’s my London, my happy place. She’s where I belong.

That thought paralyzes me, and I jerk back from her, hitting my head against the back of the truck.

Fuck. Look at that; I literally knocked some sense into myself.

A firestorm of unwanted memories invades my mind—all saturated with loss and despair. The overwhelming hurt floods my mind.

This can’t work. It will never work.

“What is it?” London asks, startled.

It takes me a second to compose my thoughts. My ears ring uncomfortably from my head’s firm meeting with the metal behind me.

“I just realized that we should probably get back,” I say in a tight voice.

“What?” London sounds utterly confused.

I don’t blame her. Two seconds ago, I was gearing up to fuck her senseless, and she knew it.

“Look, I just remembered that I have to work tomorrow, so we should go.” I gently grasp her shoulders and move her off of my lap.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“Right, I know. I told Cooper that we’d get up early to go running. We have our PT test this week.”

“Something tells me that you’re not going to have any trouble meeting the minimal requirements given by the government, regardless of whether or not you train.” Her voice is laced with blazing annoyance. “What’s really the issue, Loïc?”

I jump down from the back of the truck. “Nothing. I’m just ready to wrap this up, is all.”

London stands and walks toward me. “No, that’s not it.” She sits down before hopping off the tailgate.

I tug the blankets off and walk away from London. Throwing the bedding in the space behind my seat, I say, “It’s that simple. I’m ready to go back. I have stuff to do tomorrow.”

I turn around, and she’s standing there. The light from the truck’s interior shines on her, showcasing her aggravated stance, complete with crossed arms and a vicious scowl.

I don’t want to deal with this. Pissed off London is not my favorite—albeit her fierce anger makes her even hotter.

Damn it. Focus.

“What are you hiding from? Why are you shutting down? I don’t understand!” She raises her arms in frustration. “One minute, you’re all but confessing your love for me, and the next, you’re pushing me away faster than I can blink!”

“Hold up. I never said I loved you. We hardly know each other. Love isn’t even in the same universe as us right now.” I motion my finger between us, pointing from my chest to hers.

“Really?” she questions. “So, your little speech about barely being able to breathe in my presence, your attraction toward me that’s so much more than physical, and something about me that beckons you toward me—oh! And let’s not forget the part about the innate and unstoppable attraction! I thought we were going to be fucked up together, Loïc, until we weren’t fucked up any longer but just together.” Her harsh tone morphs into one of sadness at the end.