Free Sparrow by Sara Mack, Chris McGregor Page A

hope that’s not all it takes.”
    “It’s
not,” I reassure her as I run my hand down her leg to her knee.  “These legs
help.”  I zero in on her neck with my mouth next.  “This doesn’t hurt either,”
I murmur against her.
    She
tips her head so I have an easier time making my way to her ear.  “You just
want to make out with me.”
    “Always.”
    Our
lips meet, and we kiss until they feel swollen.  It’s as if we’re trying to
cram the next two weeks in these last few hours.  I want Addison to know how
much I care about her; I want to brand her with my mouth so she won’t forget. 
It’s then that I know I need to tell her.  She didn’t understand what my
actions meant before; she needs words.
    “Hey.” 
I pull myself away from her.  “I need to tell you something.”
    She
studies my face as her breathing slows.  “Don’t say you love me.”
    I
want to.  I’ve never told anyone before.  “Why not?”
    “Save
it,” she says.  “I want those words to be the first out of your mouth when I
see you again.”
    I
don’t fully understand her reasoning; girls confuse me.  Addison less so than
others I’ve known, but still.  “Are you sure?”
    She
nods and gives me her sly smile.  “If we save it, seeing you will be like
Christmas.  The anticipation will be worth the wait.”
    I
narrow my eyes, trying to read her.  My gut tells me she wants another reason to
ensure I will show up on Labor Day, despite my admitting to the ‘forever
moment.’  I decide to drop it and pull her toward me.  She settles her body against
my chest.  “I’ll get in trouble if I sleep here,” she says.
    I
let out a heavy breath.  “I know.”
    As
much as I don’t want her to get yelled at, I want her to stay.  I want to spend
the night wrapped around her on this uncomfortable wood bench, surrounded by
nothing but the water and the stars.
    “Make
sure you call when you get home,” she says quietly.
    “I
will.”  I kiss the top of her head.  “Don’t forget to head up to town.”
    Addison
and I both have cell phones, but we haven’t used them because there is no
signal at the lake.  We’ve spent the majority of our time here together; there
was never a need for them.  Now, she will have to drive into town to get
reception if we want to talk.
    Minutes
pass and she doesn’t move to leave.  I glance down and notice her eyes flutter closed. 
The longer I look at her, the steadier her breathing becomes.  She’s falling asleep. 
I know I should wake her, but I don’t want to.  If her parents find us together
in the morning, oh well.  Her dad might aim his gun at me, but I don’t think
he’d pull the trigger.
    I
take that back.  He’d definitely fire a warning shot.
    Regardless,
it’s worth it.  The moon is high in the sky, and the light reflects off
Addison’s face.  Her skin looks softer than usual, and here, relaxed in my
arms, she looks fragile and innocent - two words I would never use to describe
her while she is awake.  When her eyes are open, she’s strong and confident.  Instantly,
I’m thankful I get to see every side of her.
    My
eyes feel heavy, and my gaze jumps to the lake.  The water is still, like a
sheet of glass.  It’s calm and peaceful.
    Just
like I feel right now.

Chapter Eight
September 2005
    I
hate speed limits.
    Heading
south on the expressway, I meticulously weave around slower traffic.  It seems everyone
is out for a leisurely drive today.  Not me.  I have an important appointment
at exactly twelve o’clock.  One I’ve been looking forward to for fourteen days.
    There
is no way on this earth that I will be late to see Addison.
    None.
    As
I change lanes to move past a putzing Toyota, the text she sent yesterday afternoon
pops into my thoughts.  A stupid grin breaks across my face.
    Addison: Finally home.  How many more hours?
    Me: 23.  But who’s counting?
    Addison: I’m dying over here.
    Me: Do you need mouth to mouth?  I’m