Page 41 of The Woods

“My sister and I read them together. We were huge Harry Potter fans. That’s the only reason I put them on the shelf. I’ve read other books, you know.”

Gray nods as though it makes perfect sense and then finally comes to sit down beside her on the end of the bed. “Tell me about your sister,” he says, easing himself back onto the bed so that his legs hang off the end and the rest of him is propped up on his elbows.

He moves like liquid, Polly thinks. He looks up at her from under his thick, dark lashes, waiting patiently for her answer. “She was amazing. Everything I wasn’t. At times it was hard to live in her shadow.” Gray gently pulls on her arm so that she rolls back on the bed beside him. “She died in a car accident,” Polly explains, her voice flat, avoiding eye contact with him, staring up at the blue LED lights instead, thinking how garish and cheesy they seem and how the music feels as though it’s found its way right into her soul and pulled her sorrow from within to echo it back in song.

“I’m sorry,” he says, so softly she’s not sure if she imagined it. He puts a hand on her face and gently moves it so that she’s looking at him. “That makes me really sad.” And he does look sad—authentically so. Not the put-on kind that most kids her age get when they find out she has a dead twin sister. Sad like a person who has suffered their own sorrow.

They stare at each other’s sadness for several seconds, and just as she’s starting to worry that his eyes are like bottomless green pools that she might never find her way out of, he surprises her by saying, “I’d like to kiss you. If that’s okay?”

The question turns the weight of the sorrow they were sharing into flames as light as air that lick the inside of her body. She thinks this may be the hottest thing she’s ever experienced—asking first. Most guys she’s been with just start pawing at her and one thing leads to another.

She gives her permission by leaning in and putting her lips on his. They’re cold but soft, the softest she’s ever felt. He puts a hand on the back of her neck and strokes her hairline with his thumb, sending shivers all through her. The kiss is slow and sensual with him moving in and out of it, torturing her with its coyness. When she can’t take any more of it, she digs one hand into his hair to keep him in place, pushing into the kiss deeper, filling his mouth with her tongue. He smells and tastes like the forest—like tree bark and pine needles and fresh moss.

He runs his hand up the side of her body and she grinds up against his, feeling his hardness even through their clothes. She reaches down and cups it and he groans softly. So you are like other boys, she thinks with satisfaction. She moves her hand up to undo his pants, but he pulls back suddenly. He glances out the window with fear in his eyes, as though somebody is watching.

“I should go,” he says, then gently but firmly removes her hand from his hair.

“What?” Polly says, sounding shrill. “We were just getting started.” Her satisfaction has turned to embarrassment. She shifts away from him and sits up. “You have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

He laughs softly and sits up beside her, smoothing down the mess that Polly made of his curls. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I thought it was obvious that I’m out of practice in that area.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem,” he says, looking as calm and thoughtful as he always does. He takes her hand and puts it up against his heart. “There’s just something about you that makes me want our first time to be special.” He shrugs and smiles. “Is that weird?”

She shakes her head, even though she thinks it is. He’s not like any guy she’s ever known. She feels silly and immature in comparison. “No, that’s not weird at all,” she says. “It’s nice. I’m just not used to guys like you.”

He takes her hand in his and squeezes it. “Guys like me? What does that mean?”

“Smart and mature and not out for just one thing.” He nods, looking as though he’s considering her words carefully. “And who hang out in the woods and give creepy serial-killer vibes.” He breaks into a wide smile and laughs out loud, and Polly feels the energy of it all the way down her spine and into the backs of her knees.

“It’s a good icebreaker. The serial-killer thing.”

“Speaking of the woods,” she adds, hoping to keep him there longer. “My dad got lost in them last night for, like, eight hours. He found his way out this morning, but he doesn’t remember a thing that happened in there.”

“Were you worried?”

“Yeah. I was really worried. I thought he might get eaten by a wild animal or die in there or something.”

Gray shakes his head and scrunches up his face as though what she said smelled bad. “There’s nothing in there that would hurt him, Polly. You and your family have nothing to be afraid of when it comes to the woods. Nothing at all.”

“Yeah, no, I see that now,” she stammers slightly. “But when he went into the woods he and my mom were in a major fight. Since he came out this morning he’s been so nice and loving to her. I haven’t seen them get along this well, like, ever.”

Gray sweeps out his arm and looks up to the ceiling as though it’s the open sky. “ ‘Into the forest I go to lose my mind and find my soul.’ ” He waits for her to identify the source. Polly shakes her head. “John Muir, the mountaineer,” he says, as though that explains everything. “It’s a perfect metaphor for what happened to your dad. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Totally,” she says with enthusiasm even though she’s not sure it was that profound.

He sighs. “Anyway, I really should go.” He gets up off the bed and stands above her so that the LED lights create an eerie blue aura around him and make his skin look as though he were just pulled from the bottom of a frozen lake. Blowing her a kiss like Romeo from under the balcony, he slips through the open window and into the night. His pine scent lingers, and she lies down on her bed to curl up with it.

Opening her phone, she does a quick search about Portishead and is shocked to see that the band is thirty years old. She wonders how Gray even heard about them. She adds the Essentials playlist to her library and then turns up the music. When she’s with him she feels like he’s the one leading, but she has no idea where they’re going or where they’ll end up. The words whisper through her head as she lies there listening to the music of their first kiss, clinging to what’s left of his scent.

He went into the woods to lose his mind and find his soul.

Alice

They had sex for the first time in a year and a half. She had been keeping track, despite Geoff’s impression that she didn’t care enough to notice. Yes, there were days, weeks, months even when she felt nothing. Not a bit of stirring in that department, but then there were also stretches when she was horny as hell, when there was lots of stirring. During those periods she found it was easier to just take care of things herself. At some point grief, marital issues, and hormonal fluxes had turned her body into a sovereign nation, and asking for any kind of foreign aid felt like far too much trouble than it was worth. Besides, it only took about five minutes for her to satiate herself. She ignored the fact that it didn’t satisfy her longing and left her feeling lonely.

That’s why, when Geoff kissed her deeply, told her how much he loved her, then slowly ran a hand down her spine, something uncorked in Alice’s psyche. For the first time in she couldn’t even remember how long, her body was not insisting on isolation; it was not her enemy. It was her ally and they both wanted the same thing—contact. She wanted it so badly that it overwhelmed her concerns about the softness of her belly or the sag in her boobs.