Can I believe him? Should I? I want to. I glance at my watch. Good thing it’s waterproof.
“I really need to get home.” I want to curl up under my pink bedspread and stare up at the ceiling for about a week, and try not to think about this or about him.
“There are towels in that bench, the seat folds back.” He jumps out and hands me a towel. It’s a huge fluffy one, though I’m not properly appreciative of the cottony softness since I am now freezing to death. Not exaggerating here, I am facing certain death if I don’t press myself against him and force him to share his towel. Unless we share our body heat and our supersized towels we will surely die.
Wrapped with him in his towel, I use my own to wipe every drop of moisture from my body before I shimmy into my jeans. My panties are dripping and it feels terrible in the cold. My bra is soaked too. Miserable.
“I don’t want you to walk home in the cold,” he says.
“I don’t want to get caught with you. If my parents show up, I can pretend I just went out for a walk to clear my head and ponder the error of my ways.” I’m starting to worry, but somehow I can’t focus on my parents’ beating me home when I’m standing here with him.
“They might wonder why you smell like chlorine and why you’re soaking through your clothes. Let me take you.” He’s right. They probably would wonder about that, especially since they don’t trust me anymore. And because it’s pretty hard to explain why I’m dripping wet and my hair is frazzled from the steam. I should definitely ride with him. He’ll get me home faster.
It’s easy enough to follow him and climb into his shiny black Saab. It’s hard to keep from touching him. He pulls smoothly out of the driveway and turns left. Timid little mouse that I am, I put my hand on his thigh, very lightly. He stops at a light and then turns left again. I jerk my hand back, unsure of my instincts. He gives me a little half smile that I can barely see because he’s looking at the road.
He parallels right in front of my house, pulls me to him, and gives me one of those “I know your parents are watching out the window” kisses. Very showy and dramatic. More head action than tongue action, which isn’t his style at all. A weird show since there isn’t an audience. I know I should stop him, that if anyone is looking I’m in more trouble than ever, but somehow I just can’t.
16
“I’ ll see you at school tomorrow.” I disengage my face, disengage my throbbing lips from his perfect, perfect mouth.
I slam the Saab’s door behind me and run up the steps of our red brick colonial, the steps where I fell chasing Paige and busted my lip when I was four. I keep my head straight so that I don’t have to look directly at the Century 21 sign.
I unlock the door and then relock it behind me, remembering Daddy’s warning, and run upstairs to my bedroom. I need to take a shower before my parents get home. Need to get rid of the evidence.
“Where have you been, young lady?”
It isn’t the words so much as the surprise that halts me in my tracks and makes my heart nearly stop. What is she trying to do to me after Daddy already scared me with his talk of crazy people? Paige is lying on my bed filing her nails. She blows on them and smiles at me.
“Out.” Crap. She knows I’m grounded. She could get me into serious trouble.
“Oh, Parker, I invented the ‘out’ line. Can’t you do better than that?”
“Not really. With a big sister like you it’s hard to really be original.” She smiles like this is the world’s biggest compliment, and I have to admit, she knew how to handle Mom and Dad. She never got grounded indefinitely, and she was a million times worse than me. If her goal was to freak me out, then she succeeded, but that last kiss is still throbbing through me, and I just don’t care about my silly vain sister right now.
“I have to say, those handcuffs were original.” She stops
“I really need to get home.” I want to curl up under my pink bedspread and stare up at the ceiling for about a week, and try not to think about this or about him.
“There are towels in that bench, the seat folds back.” He jumps out and hands me a towel. It’s a huge fluffy one, though I’m not properly appreciative of the cottony softness since I am now freezing to death. Not exaggerating here, I am facing certain death if I don’t press myself against him and force him to share his towel. Unless we share our body heat and our supersized towels we will surely die.
Wrapped with him in his towel, I use my own to wipe every drop of moisture from my body before I shimmy into my jeans. My panties are dripping and it feels terrible in the cold. My bra is soaked too. Miserable.
“I don’t want you to walk home in the cold,” he says.
“I don’t want to get caught with you. If my parents show up, I can pretend I just went out for a walk to clear my head and ponder the error of my ways.” I’m starting to worry, but somehow I can’t focus on my parents’ beating me home when I’m standing here with him.
“They might wonder why you smell like chlorine and why you’re soaking through your clothes. Let me take you.” He’s right. They probably would wonder about that, especially since they don’t trust me anymore. And because it’s pretty hard to explain why I’m dripping wet and my hair is frazzled from the steam. I should definitely ride with him. He’ll get me home faster.
It’s easy enough to follow him and climb into his shiny black Saab. It’s hard to keep from touching him. He pulls smoothly out of the driveway and turns left. Timid little mouse that I am, I put my hand on his thigh, very lightly. He stops at a light and then turns left again. I jerk my hand back, unsure of my instincts. He gives me a little half smile that I can barely see because he’s looking at the road.
He parallels right in front of my house, pulls me to him, and gives me one of those “I know your parents are watching out the window” kisses. Very showy and dramatic. More head action than tongue action, which isn’t his style at all. A weird show since there isn’t an audience. I know I should stop him, that if anyone is looking I’m in more trouble than ever, but somehow I just can’t.
16
“I’ ll see you at school tomorrow.” I disengage my face, disengage my throbbing lips from his perfect, perfect mouth.
I slam the Saab’s door behind me and run up the steps of our red brick colonial, the steps where I fell chasing Paige and busted my lip when I was four. I keep my head straight so that I don’t have to look directly at the Century 21 sign.
I unlock the door and then relock it behind me, remembering Daddy’s warning, and run upstairs to my bedroom. I need to take a shower before my parents get home. Need to get rid of the evidence.
“Where have you been, young lady?”
It isn’t the words so much as the surprise that halts me in my tracks and makes my heart nearly stop. What is she trying to do to me after Daddy already scared me with his talk of crazy people? Paige is lying on my bed filing her nails. She blows on them and smiles at me.
“Out.” Crap. She knows I’m grounded. She could get me into serious trouble.
“Oh, Parker, I invented the ‘out’ line. Can’t you do better than that?”
“Not really. With a big sister like you it’s hard to really be original.” She smiles like this is the world’s biggest compliment, and I have to admit, she knew how to handle Mom and Dad. She never got grounded indefinitely, and she was a million times worse than me. If her goal was to freak me out, then she succeeded, but that last kiss is still throbbing through me, and I just don’t care about my silly vain sister right now.
“I have to say, those handcuffs were original.” She stops
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