Time-Lapse by J.B. Heller
Chapter Thirteen
My attemptsat studying for my final exams are not going well. Especially since Eliza volunteered to be my study partner. I can’t focus for shit when she’s near me.
“This isn’t working,” I groan.
She lifts her eyes to mine. “What? What’s wrong? Am I asking the wrong questions?”
I shake my head. “No, the questions are right, but I can’t think straight with you sitting there looking all beautiful and shit.”
Her face lights up. “I have an idea!”
I chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, what’s that?”
She clears her throat and straightens her shoulders. “Every answer you get right, I’ll remove an item of clothing.” Her eyes are shining with mischief and lust.
I’m about to tell her that it’s a stupid idea when I realize she might actually be onto something. “Alright, I’m game,” I tell her, and she claps excitedly. I shake my head. “You’re such a kinky little thing.” I chuckle.
Nodding, she moves around in front of me until she’s sitting with her legs folded beneath her, and my study guide is in her lap. “Okay, first question. Clay soil forms a fairly effective barrier against the movements of water. It also swells and shrinks significantly as its water content changes. Sandy soil, in contrast, allows water to move freely and does not change shape as the water content varies. In which statement is the appropriate soil selected for its intended site?
- Clay soil would work well in a drain field.
- Clay soil would be a good foundation for a large building.
- Clay soil would form a good liner if a person built a pond.
- A sandy lake bottom would prevent water from seeping out of the lake.”
She’s looking at me, waiting for my answer, and I frown. “That’s the question? Seriously? That’s easy—C, obviously.”
Eliza grins and takes the hem of her shirt in her hands and pulls it over her head. “Next!” she says while flicking the pages to find a different question. “Okay, a cook decides to recover some table salt that has been completely dissolved in water. Which of the following processes would be the most effective method of extracting salt from the solution?
- Spinning the solution in a mixer.
- Boiling away the water.
- Pouring the solution through cloth.
- Dripping the solution through a paper filter. Or,
- Bubbling oxygen through the solution.”
Rolling my eyes, I answer. “B. Spinning would do nothing, dissolved salt would go straight through a cloth or a paper filter, and bubbling oxygen through it wouldn’t do a damn thing,” I say.
“Well, aren’t we a smartass,” she says with a smirk.
I waggle my brows. “Only when it comes to getting you naked.” I grin, and she removes her sneakers and socks, making me frown.
She laughs. “I don’t have much to remove. You’re lucky I counted the shoes and socks as one question not four.”
By the time she’s down to her bra and panties, I’m done with studying for today—unless it’s studying her body. I lean forward and take the book out of her hands and place it on top of my pack then pull my camera out. “Don’t move,” I instruct, and she raises a brow.
“Who’s the kinky one now?” she teases.
I swallow hard as I focus my lens on her. Everything about her is made for me. Her waist that my palms fit around perfectly, her eyes that shine only for me, her lips that call to me even without words, and her heart that is so pure it could love a waste of space like me.
She starts crawling toward me, the look in her eyes questioning. “I don’t like it when you look at me like that,” she whispers. “I know that look, Hux. You’re thinking you’re not good enough. You’re thinking you don’t deserve to be with me. You’re wrong.”
She’s right in front of my lens now, and she reaches up, takes my camera out of my hands, and places it gently on the grass beside my pack. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s … she’s everything.
When her eyes come back to mine, they’re imploring. “Hux, you are worthy.” She reaches for my cheek. “You are good enough.” Her thumb skims my bottom lip. “You are mine,” she says with finality before closing the small distance between our mouths and sliding her tongue along the crease of my lips until I open for her.
As soon as her tongue touches mine, I take back control and wrap my hands around her waist, pulling her into my lap so she straddles me.
Neither of us speaks again, knowing this is a subject that we have no choice but to agree to disagree on.
Watching El come is my favorite thing in the world. It’s more than a moment of beauty, so much more, because I made it happen. It’s because of me. And nothing has ever felt better than that.
* * *
Eliza drivesall the way down my street and parks in front of my house, and I look at her with a raised brow. “You know which one is mine.”
She glances down, refusing to make eye contact with me. “It’s because of your dad, isn’t it, that you don’t want me to come inside?” she asks softly.
A lump forms in my throat, and my hands curl into fists on my knees. I close my eyes and drop my head back on the headrest. I can feel her eyes on me now, and I wish I was invisible again.
“Hux,” she whispers, “he’s the reason you’re leaving, isn’t he?”
My jaw tenses. I don’t want to talk to her about this. I’ve managed to go eighteen years without having to talk to anyone about my relationship with my father—or lack thereof.
Her small hand rests atop one of my clenched fists gently, her fingertips tracing soft swirls on my wrist, and I begin to relax a little. Her touch has a calming effect on me, and I try to swallow past the lump still clogging my throat.
“He’s the reason for your bruises that day at the stream,” she continues.
My stomach churns with each statement she makes.
I don’t want her to see the ugly side of life. To see my life.
She is the only good, pure, and beautiful thing I have, and my very existence is a tarnish on her perfection.
I don’t answer her. Instead, I turn my face toward the window and reach for my pack on the floor between my feet at the same time as I open my door with my free hand and get out of the car.
Throwing my pack over my shoulder, I start toward my house without a backward glance.
I hear her door slam closed, then she’s behind me, wrapping her arms around my middle from behind. “Fuck him!” she cries into my back, and I can’t move.
All my emotions compound in that moment, and I take us both by surprise when I spin around and pick her up by the waist before dropping my mouth to hers. “I fucking love you, Eliza Quinn,” I murmur against her tear-dampened lips, then I kiss her with everything I have.
She sobs into my mouth as she wraps her legs around my waist and kisses me back with as much intensity as I do her. “I love you more,” she whispers as she presses her forehead to mine.
The enormity of her words reaches my very soul, and my legs give out, dropping me to my knees on the grass of my front lawn. No one has ever said they love me—no one.
