Senior Year Bucket List by J. M. Miller

Author:J. M. Miller [Miller, J. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-29T04:00:00+00:00

16

______________

Celia

-now-

Caleb’s place sat on a dairy farm owned by a Mennonite family at the south-western border of Ellville. It was a square cottage-style house with white siding, fixed black shutters, and a small front porch big enough to hold two wooden rockers and a tiny table—no doubt he’d handmade himself.

After leaving the water tower the night before, he’d insisted I meet him at his place to take the rest of the drive to the quarry together. What he’d offered to do was drive all the way to pick me up even though it would have been a huge waste of travel and time for him, so we compromised. In reality, I barely cared how we managed to get together. Walk, run, crawl on all fours—I was prepared to do anything to see him. The previous night had been amazing. His words had erased my concerns and had me melting inside his arms. And the kiss we’d shared … Yeah, I had to force myself back into my car when all I really wanted was to stay right there with him in the storm, lightning be damned.

“Hi,” he said, coming out of his house to meet me. He slung a backpack and a towel over his shoulder then picked up a cooler from the porch.

“Hi,” I replied, locking my car while watching him load the cooler into the back seat of his truck.

“Did you want to see my place before we leave?” he asked, twisting his keys in hand.

I stared at the cute house, knowing how bad of an idea that was.

He laughed lightly and bit his bottom lip, knowing exactly what I was thinking. Shit. “Probably best we get to the quarry.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, stepping up to the passenger door where he met me.

“Come here,” he whispered, lifting his hands to my cheeks and staring into my eyes. “I’ve been waiting all night and morning to taste these lips again.”

“It was a long time,” I admitted.

“So long.” He took my mouth fully, sliding his tongue in to meet mine smoothly, passionately. The scruff along his jaw and upper lip rubbed against my skin, prickling.

The intensity made me feel weak. I clenched the sides of his T-shirt, needing to stabilize.

He eased off, kissing me once more chastely then smiling against my lips. “We should leave.”

“Yes,” I replied with my own smile.

He released my face then opened the passenger door for me before jogging around the front of the truck. Right away, the woodsy smell of sawdust hit me—cedar and pine and whatever else. The floor mats were clean but still had traces of it along the edging. His center console storage area was lifted, the urn and the bucket list notebook standing upright inside.

“What?” he asked when he hopped in and started the engine, eyeing me curiously.

“Just smells exactly like The Beast did. Like you. Like sawdust.”

He exhaled a laugh and pulled away from the house with a smile bigger than my own. His hand reached around the center console, past the urn and notebook, his palm twisting up.

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