Lighting the Flames (16 page)

But the box
wasn
’
t inclined to move. She climbed up higher onto one of the
shelves, but it started to creak when she put her weight on
it.

Then Jeremy walked through the doorway, reached up
and grabbed her around the waist, scaring the hell out of her.

“
What are you doing?
”

“
Your hands are freezing!
”

They spoke over one
another and then both fell silent. Gen didn
’
t let go of the shelf
above her, so Jeremy moved his hands onto her hips to keep her
still, to be ready to support her if she fell, the way he would if
they were in the woods on the low ropes course.

That
’
s when the air
changed, grew thicker, warmer, as if someone had turned on a space
heater and shut the door.

“
Ready to let go?
”
Jeremy said, his voice deeper,
rougher than normal.

If she let go,
he
’
d
be supporting her weight, lowering her until she reached the
ground. She opened her mouth to tell him to step back so she could
jump, and felt the air change again.

No, it
wasn
’
t the air that changed.

His hands.
He
’
d
tightened his grasp on her hips as he stood in front of her, ready
to lift her down. She rarely saw him from above. Usually she looked
up , but the view looking down was just as fascinating. His biceps
were flexed under his T-shirt, and for a split second, she focused
on the ragged seam of his sleeve and how tight it was around the
curve of his muscles. His shirts were all loose, but that sleeve
was almost too small for him.

“
Step closer,
”
she said, her voice a dry rasp. She swallowed,
then gasped softly as he did as she asked, moving closer to her,
placing himself between her legs.

When he nodded that he
was ready, like they
’
d done a thousand times before, she let go.
Usually she was sneaking out a window or climbing down a tree, and
he
’
d
step back and release her as soon as her feet touched the
earth.

This time he
didn
’
t let her reach the ground, and Gen wrapped her legs around
him so she never got there. Her hands moved to his shoulders,
steadying herself against him, and his arms were around her waist,
easily holding her against his body.

He scarcely breathed, or blinked. He just looked up
at her before reaching up and sliding one hand behind her head as
she lowered her mouth to his.

*

Jeremy could easily
think of a few hundred different times that he
’
d held or lifted
Genevieve. He wasn
’
t really twice her height, but she barely reached
his shoulder, and if they were breaking into a camp
building
—
maybe one full of golf carts
—
or into a shed full
of canoes, the easiest way in was always for him to lift her up to
a window so she could unlock the door.

There were parts of
her he
’
d touched a thousand times, and he only rarely allowed
himself to think about them. He
’
d lifted her or
caught her and touched her arms, her sides, her legs. In one
memorable misadventure, he
’
d grabbed her
ponytail to keep her from falling against a glass
window.

But there were parts
of her he
’
d never touched. Most of her, in fact. He
’
d touched her waist,
but never slid his hands up toward her ribs, and never once had he
moved his hands across her back to pull her against him.
He
’
d
never felt the soft strength of her body pressed against his own
until Tuesday afternoon on the camp road, when he
’
d pulled her easily
into his lap like they were magnets finally turned in the right
direction.

Now that he held her
tight in his arms again, with her legs around his waist, her
breasts pressed against his T-shirt
—
a flimsy boundary
that did nothing to contain his temptation
—
he
wasn
’
t sure his nervous system could handle the experience.
Every part of him wanted more of her.

Then
she
’
d kissed him, and his thoughts blew apart into chaos and
coalesced into a hot, almost reverent wish for more. He turned and,
without meaning to, recreated the position of their first
kiss
—
their first real kiss, one he kept replaying in his mind
even when he shouldn
’
t. They
’
d been in the art
shack, the night before he left to go finish his degree
certification. She
’
d been sitting on the high table, and
he
’
d
moved closer to her to hug her good-bye, and
…
he was never sure if
it had been an accident, or half an accident that maybe one of them
had planned a moment before, but one minute he
’
d turned his head,
and the next they were kissing. He
’
d been too shocked to
move, and then he hadn
’
t wanted to, even
though he thought perhaps his hair had caught on fire from the heat
between them. When he
’
d pulled away at the same moment she did,
they
’
d stared at each other. And they
’
d never spoken of it
again.

Now he knew this
wasn
’
t an accident, and he didn
’
t want it to be. She
was back in his arms in nearly the same position, and he
wasn
’
t going to step away or say good-bye. He wanted more. So he
turned and lowered her to the edge of a shelf so he could move his
hands. She kept her legs around him and pulled him closer, which
made him dizzy for a moment. But when he knew she was safe, perched
on a plywood shelf with nothing that could hit her head, he allowed
himself to find some of the places he
’
d thought about, but
that he
’
d never touched.

He moved his hands
down over her hips. Then his fingertips felt the bare space of skin
above her waistband and sought more. He
’
d put sunscreen on
her back many times, but that was brisk, with a normal amount of
pressure and the most scientific detachment he could manage at the
time. Now, his hands were moving softly over her skin, then sliding
with deeper pressure, wanting her closer, wanting to make her
shiver, wanting to bring her as much as possible into the space
within his arms.

He whispered her name,
her full name, in the space between their lips, and she shivered
when he spoke. He moved his arms across her back, trying to keep
her warm, knowing she was always cold, especially this week. But
she moved away, their faces a breath apart. Her eyes were level
with his, and he didn
’
t need to tilt his head to see her. Her eyes were
wide like his, her breath as quick and uneven as his own. The one
time they
’
d kissed, it hadn
’
t been like this. It
had been scary, but enticing, like the first time he bungee jumped
or skied down a backwoods powder trail. Thrill and shock and
exhilaration before the heat.

Kissing her now felt like dropping into a lit fire,
every inch of him combusting at once.

The chill of the room brought her closer, and the
sound of his name moved him closer still, and he felt as if
crackling flames were deep within his body. Maybe he could breathe
fire.

“
What are you smiling about,
”
she whispered. She
hadn
’
t kissed him again, and he hadn
’
t moved to kiss her,
either. They
’
d been staring at one another, with Jeremy stunned at
the intensity between them, the way their closeness had never felt
like this.

“
I
’
m amazed I
’
m not breathing fire right now.
”

She smiled, then he heard and felt her short
laughter as she moved toward him, reaching for him so her hands
slid into his hair, her thumbs brushed the thick bristle of his
beard. Her lips had just brushed across his when the sound of the
back door opening made her stop.

Jeremy stepped back
and helped her jump to the floor, and she looked over her clothing,
pulling her shirt and sweater smooth. There was no sign that a
moment before he
’
d been about to tear both their shirts and all their
base layers off as fast as he could, though it was a good thing his
snow pants were loose fitting.

Scott passed them as
he walked down the hall, not noticing that they were both in the
pit closet. Gen looked up at Jeremy, and the look of shock on her
face made him step back away from her. He moved until he felt the
shelves on the far wall against his shoulders. He was far enough
that he couldn
’
t see the colors in her eyes.

Eventually he found
his voice, and a somewhat even method of breathing.
“
What were
you doing in here?
”

She frowned at him. He gestured with one hand toward
the box above their heads and rubbed through his hair with the
other. She looked angry. Was she angry with him?

“
Oh,
it
’
s
nothing. Really.
”

“
You
need that box?
”
He gestured with his chin.

Gen looked up and
nodded.
“
Yeah, it
’
s a little out of my reach.
”

He laughed, a bare sound with a tension that he
could hear and feel. With one hand, he reached up and pulled the
box down for her. He tucked it against his side, but she stepped
forward and took it from him. While he could heft it one-handed,
she needed to use both arms wrapped across the front to hold it
still, a posture that tipped her backward. Jeremy tried to take the
box back, but she stepped away and turned toward the door.

“
Wait, Gen, I can
—”

“
No,
thanks, Jeremy. I
’
m good. Thank you, though,
”
she said, her voice
thin. He wasn
’
t sure if it was maybe residual breathlessness or the
box pressing into her diaphragm. He didn
’
t want her to be
unaffected. His own breathing was a mess.

“
Wait, Gen, no, seriously.
”
He yanked the cord on the lightbulb
and pulled the door closed before he followed her down the
hall.
“
Wait, please. Let me help you.
”

“
I
don
’
t need your help,
”
she said, looking up at him. She
hadn
’
t spoken viciously, or with any anger in her voice. But her
words made him flinch, and she stopped in the doorway to her
room.

His mouth opened then closed as he looked at the
box, and back at her face.

“
See
you later?
”
She moved into her room, hooking her ankle around the door.
He nodded, and she smiled at him before she closed the door behind
her, leaving him in the hall alone.

*

Friday, December 19,
2014
—
28 Kislev 5775

Shabbat
—
fourth night of Hanukkah

Genevieve had no idea
that Jeremy was leading part of that night
’
s Shabbat service.
She
’
d expected to be next to him like she had been during the
other services, whispering to him and elbowing him for making her
laugh inappropriately. She looked down and allowed her hair to fall
over her face for a moment.

She
’
d wanted him to be
next to her.

That night
she
’
d lit the
yahrzeit
candle for
her parents, a short, fat candle in a glass jar that would burn for
a little over a day. Glenn had lit a second candle with her, in
memory of his mother. Ella, his daughter, had held his hand while
he did it, and, just for a moment, Ella had leaned her head against
Gen
’
s arm, connecting her with their family.