Free Time Between Us by Tamara Ireland Stone Page A

my porch when I’m not at the bookstore I own and run with the help of my grandchildren, who think I’m a crazy old bat because I refuse to go near the Travel section. Trapped doesn’t even begin to cover it.
    “Every day,” I say.
    “I can’t imagine being in one place that long.” I shrink back away from him, but he props his head against his hand and fills the space I’ve just created. “I’ve traveled everywhere. I’ve seen more than most people get to see in a lifetime.” This isn’t helping. He must realize that, because he suddenly shifts gears. “But you have something I’ve never had.” His expression softens and he looks almost sad. “Deep roots. A history of a place. You’ve watched the kids you knew in kindergarten grow up right before your eyes. Aside from my parents and my sister, I feel like everyone I know is somehow”—he pauses to search for the right word—“temporary.”
    It’s my turn to look sympathetic. I’ve known Justin longer than I’ve known my other friends, but I can’t imagine thinking of any of them as temporary.
    “Don’t tell me you’re going to Northwestern.” He keeps smiling, so I just keep talking, like I’ve been injected with truth serum.
    “God, no. At least, I hope not. I’ll apply, because everyone does, but it’s definitely my last choice.” I tell him about running and my plans for a scholarship, and he looks at me like he’s hanging on every word, and I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why. But his eyes are wide with interest, and this time, when I picture my map, I decide I can tell him. “There’s also the other plan,” I say, “the one my parents don’t know about.”
    He smiles excitedly. “I get a secret too?”
    “Yeah, except, see, I’m actually planning to tell you the whole thing,” I say, and that makes him grin so wide his eyes narrow into little slits. “I’m thinking of taking a year off after graduation to travel. I know I’ll go to college, but I feel like I have this one window after high school, you know, to see the world.” I look down at the sofa. “But of course, my parents would never approve of this plan.”
    “Why can’t you travel after college?”
    Of course he’d have to ask. I’ve seen where he lives. “I’ll need to go straight to work to pay off my student loans,” I explain. “Even if I get a cross-country scholarship and financial aid or whatever, I won’t get a full ride.” His smile encourages me to continue. “I guess I’m afraid that if I don’t go soon, I never will, and I just…need to.”
    He’s staring at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
    “What?” I ask.
    “You’re interesting.” His mouth curves into a half smile. And beautiful , I want to add. Earlier, you said I was beautiful. “I had a feeling you’d be interesting.” He watches me, and I hope he can’t tell that my stomach has started doing those damn flip-flops again.
    And as I stare back at him, I realize that over the last hour I’ve let myself forget all the little—and big—things that have haunted me for the last two weeks. How he disappeared into thin air at the track that day and then denied it. How strangely he reacted the first time he heard my name. How I found him in the park that night. Even that bizarre trip to his grandmother’s house just hours ago. I don’t see what he’s learning about me that’s so interesting, but I know I’m a little too fascinated by everything I don’t know about him. I just want to complete this puzzle, but the most important pieces keep dropping on the floor, landing upside down and just out of reach.
    But the questions disappear again when he reaches forward and slowly traces the line of my jaw to my chin. I close my eyes as his thumb slides toward my mouth and brushes my lower lip, and I can feel myself moving in closer, like I’m being pulled into the gravity that surrounds him. He starts to kiss me, and I close my eyes and take a little breath