Beach Side Beds and Sandy Paths by Becca Ann, Tessa Marie Page B

has it stored. The key is still under the planter, the lock still barely out of my reach. I rise on tip toe and unlatch the door to my past.
    The pink handle bars with the flower stickers Ryan gave me when we were twelve rest up against the back wall. I move past the lawn mower and just like I did so many nights before, I wheel my bike out.
    These past few months we’ve been so focused on the future , on college, and what’s next, we’ve forgotten about all the things that got us to this point. Tonight I want Ryan to remember how easy it once was to push all the negativity aside and just be happy with each other.
    The wind blows my hair behind me as I steer my bike past my car. I never thought I’d even have a car and I probably wouldn’t if it wasn’t for Roger and Ryan.
    I turn onto the street and close my eyes for a second, a smile tugging so hard at the corners of my lips I can’t help but laugh.
    The desire to see Ryan just reached an all time high. I pedal harder, faster, and if I cut down Stewart Street, I’ll be there in five minutes flat. A left on Stewart and a right on Johnson and I pull up in front of Ryan’s.
    I hop off my bike and wheel it along the perimeter of the house , far enough away so the motion detector lights don’t sense me. The Lincoln is in the driveway with the hood still up. Ryan has been busting his cute butt to get that thing ready for our trip.
    It’s dark and the hydrangea bushes help keep me hidden.
    Butterflies kick up in my stomach when I turn the corner and see Ryan’s lights still on. Twenty bucks, he’s pacing his room, hand rubbing the back of his neck raw.
    I ease the bike down and sneak along the house to his window. I’d be twenty bucks richer if I had someone to make the bet with.
    I don’t knock right away. There’s something about watching him when he thinks no one can see him. He’s not putting on an act. Not pretending everything is okay. The tension in his jaw is pulled tight, the veins in his arms bulging and that damn hand is burrowing a hole in his neck. Not to mention he’s stripped down to his boxers and a T-shirt and wow. Just wow.
    He runs his hands through his hair , lifting his shirt, and my eyes linger on his happy trail before following the path to his eyes. There’s no lying to me now. He’s stressed. Whether he’ll admit it or not that’s a different story. I’m not holding my breath though. But that’s not why I’m here.
    Ryan paces to the end of the room and when he makes an about face , I knock. The tension in his jaw vanishes, his hand drops from his neck and that sparkle he gets whenever I take him by surprise lights up his face.
    I give my usual awkward wave , and he very carefully and quietly opens his window. 
    H e cups my cheek, and I like to think it’s because when it comes to me he can’t resist the skin on skin contact. “What are you doing here?”
    It takes all my restraint to keep from running my hands across his chest and attacking him with my lips. “I missed you tonight.”
    “I missed you, too.” He leans over the windowsill and presses his lips to mine. My mind goes blank, every intention of not making this about sex flies out the window and is somewhere with my bike.
    Desperate to run my hands down his chest , I move closer to the window. My fingers scale his skin and hook behind his neck. He pulls me closer, lifting me up until I’m no longer in the window but in his arms.
    He breaks away and rests his forehead on mine. “Sorry.” Mint breath warms against my cheek.
    “For what?”
    “I can’t help myself when I’m around you.”
    “And you’re apologizing for that?” I grab his face and guide his lips back to mine. We start moving until I’m on the bed, Ryan on top of me. His hands travel the curves of my body and a low moan escapes between kisses.
    Ryan snaps back, his eyes a mix of horror and humor. I’ve moaned before, and he’s never had this reaction. It’s normal, isn’t it? I mean it just