What Happens on the Fourth

SATURDAY

We didn't make our way back to the site until well after noon, talking about the week and what awaited us when we got back home. Eventually, the guys joined us on the shore to take part in the conversation, and we began reminiscing about our college years- something we had done quite frequently on this trip.

On the way back, I may have held myself a bit tighter to Alex. I had yet to bring up anything of what I was feeling, mostly because of our agreement and because I was almost certain that he didn't feel the same way.

Yet, part of me dwelled too much on the little things- like his jealousy one second and tenderness the next, or the way he'd tease me and then be utterly sweet to make sure I actually wasn't offended by anything he had said. I wanted to believe that he didn't act that way with just anyone, but at the same time- I didn't want to get my hopes up; didn't want to get attached.

So, when we parked the jet skis by the dock and he extended a hand to help me off, I took it before quickly walking back to the tent to change out of my swimsuit- damp from the bit of lake water that sprayed up at us as we sped through it- and I didn't say a single word to him.

For the rest of the night, actually.

Mainly because I didn't think I could, and before I knew it, we were crawling back into that tent for the night after having stayed out by the fire with everyone until the early hours of morning.

"Luckily it's not freezing outside tonight, because neither of us came to turn this blanket on again," he teased, kicking his shoes off after we had zipped the tent shut for the night. I silently agreed by taking my own shoes off and sitting on the air mattress. "You okay? I feel like I hardly talked to you today," he said, sitting down next to me. Something in that gesture made me want to just... stop thinking.

So I met his gaze, then pushed a hungry kiss against his lips. He returned it, though a bit hesitantly, but he didn't push me away or break the frantic kissing when I straddled him and pulled both his sweatshirt and shirt over his head before crossing my arms and pulling my own sweatshirt over mine.

I leaned forward to connect our lips again, my hands braced on either side of his jaw to pull him closer to me, but he wrapped his hands around my wrists and pulled them down.

"Brooks," he turned his head to the side, making my lips land on the corner of his, then on his cheek.

"What?" I gasped, a bit breathless, but let my lips trail to his neck. His grip tightened on my wrist when I placed a light kiss just to the right of his throat. I pushed him back and he laid down with me atop him.

"I feel like there's something bothering you," I continued kissing his neck, "and as much as I love this," he thrusted his hips up a bit, proving to me just how much he loved what we were doing. I groaned onto his neck. "There's something we need to talk about."

"Is there?" I pulled back slightly at the suddenly serious tone of his voice, locking my gaze with his hazel one.

"This-" he paused, then continued, "this is our last night here." My stomach dropped as my heart felt like it skipped a beat or two.

"I know," awkward silence surrounded us as he moved his thumb to graze my bare skin. After a few minutes, he broke it.

"Do you remember what you said to me the first time you met me?" His voice was low and hushed.

"I was drunk," I ran a finger down his pec and his thumb found a rhythm drawing slow circles on that bit of exposed skin on my hip.

"Some people say you only speak the truth when you're drunk," he gave me a lop-sided smirk- clearly forced.