idea who he was or why he was here. This time, he's here to see me. I scramble to pull on some shorts and a t-shirt I find in the top drawer of my dresser.
"Fee, open the stinking door! There's Black Ops guys out here, ya know?"
I tiptoe across the room and open it and he slides in smelling like a boy who lives on a lake. I want to breathe him in so bad, but I find I can't breathe at all. He's stolen the breath from me.
"You OK?" he asks.
I nod as I remember to inhale. "Yeah, but I'm not sure what to do with you now that you're here."
He grins so wide I have to laugh. His hand comes up to my mouth and covers my lips as he bends down to whisper in my ear. "Shhh, quiet now, you're gonna get me busted."
And then he takes my hand and leads me over to the bed, because that's the only place in the room to sit, besides the desk chair, and he doesn't look interested in sitting in that old wooden thing and neither am I. I figure if you invite a boy into your room in the middle of the night, you should at the very least let him sit next to you.
He pulls me to the bed and looks at my shorts and t-shirt. "Mmmm, I like this," he says, running the hem of my shirt between his thumb and forefinger.
Oh, God.
"You're nervous?" he asks. "You want me to leave, Fiona? I won't stay if I'm making you nervous."
"No," I say quickly. "That's not it. I mean, yes, I'm nervous, remember? No time alone with boys of any kind. This is new territory for me."
"Well," he says, lying back on the bed a little and then pulling me towards him. "I'd just like to say how sweet it is that you've been saving yourself for me all these years."
I laugh again.
"I mean, really. Pining over me since you were six, it's just so damn sweet."
"Is this how you get lucky with all your girlfriends?"
"Yeah, it is," he says seriously. Then he takes my hand and squeezes it. "But you're not about getting lucky, Fiona. I'm not even going to kiss you tonight, let alone try for a home run."
I lean back into him, enjoying his warmth. Every tingle going on in my body right now is brand new to me. I've never had a boy touch me like this. "Well, we made it home, neither of us got arrested, can't this be the perfect night for a kiss?" I want him to kiss me. Like, really bad.
"Yeah, about that SWAT team you have out there, can I just say, what the fuck was that?"
"The mouth on you!"
"Sorry," he mumbles as he plays with my hair and I stare at said mouth.
I have a sudden urge to attack him, hold him down, and make him kiss me. But I hold myself back. "Well, that question does not fall within the parameters of the game."
"What game?"
"The questions game. You know, you can ask me questions, but not about my other life."
"So, your other life involves the FBI and lots of guys wearing black with lasers at the end of their rifles?"
"Out of bounds, Brody."
He turns his head and breathes out. "Fuck. That's weird." He turns back. "I mean, I was pretty terrified back there and you basically just told me that's normal for you."
"That's not what I said. You said that. I said you can't ask about them. Ask about something else."
He squints his eyes at me for a few seconds, then nods his head. "OK, then tell me what you do with the feet pictures."
"Oh gosh! That's not a good one either! It's…"
"What?"
"Embarrassing, really. It's embarrassing. Something I've been doing since I was a girl. Not that I'm not a girl now, but a smaller girl. My dad started it first. Everywhere we went he took a picture of our feet near something famous, or that represented that place." I stop to smile and remember the first one in Rome. We dangled our feet in the Trevi Fountain and he took a picture of them surrounded by coins. "And then he'd put it in a special photo album of our trips. It's the only way we could be in a photo together. Just our feet."
"Why can't you be seen in a photo with him, Fiona?"
I make a buzzer sound. "Sorry, sir, that question is out of bounds. Now, I answered your question
"Fee, open the stinking door! There's Black Ops guys out here, ya know?"
I tiptoe across the room and open it and he slides in smelling like a boy who lives on a lake. I want to breathe him in so bad, but I find I can't breathe at all. He's stolen the breath from me.
"You OK?" he asks.
I nod as I remember to inhale. "Yeah, but I'm not sure what to do with you now that you're here."
He grins so wide I have to laugh. His hand comes up to my mouth and covers my lips as he bends down to whisper in my ear. "Shhh, quiet now, you're gonna get me busted."
And then he takes my hand and leads me over to the bed, because that's the only place in the room to sit, besides the desk chair, and he doesn't look interested in sitting in that old wooden thing and neither am I. I figure if you invite a boy into your room in the middle of the night, you should at the very least let him sit next to you.
He pulls me to the bed and looks at my shorts and t-shirt. "Mmmm, I like this," he says, running the hem of my shirt between his thumb and forefinger.
Oh, God.
"You're nervous?" he asks. "You want me to leave, Fiona? I won't stay if I'm making you nervous."
"No," I say quickly. "That's not it. I mean, yes, I'm nervous, remember? No time alone with boys of any kind. This is new territory for me."
"Well," he says, lying back on the bed a little and then pulling me towards him. "I'd just like to say how sweet it is that you've been saving yourself for me all these years."
I laugh again.
"I mean, really. Pining over me since you were six, it's just so damn sweet."
"Is this how you get lucky with all your girlfriends?"
"Yeah, it is," he says seriously. Then he takes my hand and squeezes it. "But you're not about getting lucky, Fiona. I'm not even going to kiss you tonight, let alone try for a home run."
I lean back into him, enjoying his warmth. Every tingle going on in my body right now is brand new to me. I've never had a boy touch me like this. "Well, we made it home, neither of us got arrested, can't this be the perfect night for a kiss?" I want him to kiss me. Like, really bad.
"Yeah, about that SWAT team you have out there, can I just say, what the fuck was that?"
"The mouth on you!"
"Sorry," he mumbles as he plays with my hair and I stare at said mouth.
I have a sudden urge to attack him, hold him down, and make him kiss me. But I hold myself back. "Well, that question does not fall within the parameters of the game."
"What game?"
"The questions game. You know, you can ask me questions, but not about my other life."
"So, your other life involves the FBI and lots of guys wearing black with lasers at the end of their rifles?"
"Out of bounds, Brody."
He turns his head and breathes out. "Fuck. That's weird." He turns back. "I mean, I was pretty terrified back there and you basically just told me that's normal for you."
"That's not what I said. You said that. I said you can't ask about them. Ask about something else."
He squints his eyes at me for a few seconds, then nods his head. "OK, then tell me what you do with the feet pictures."
"Oh gosh! That's not a good one either! It's…"
"What?"
"Embarrassing, really. It's embarrassing. Something I've been doing since I was a girl. Not that I'm not a girl now, but a smaller girl. My dad started it first. Everywhere we went he took a picture of our feet near something famous, or that represented that place." I stop to smile and remember the first one in Rome. We dangled our feet in the Trevi Fountain and he took a picture of them surrounded by coins. "And then he'd put it in a special photo album of our trips. It's the only way we could be in a photo together. Just our feet."
"Why can't you be seen in a photo with him, Fiona?"
I make a buzzer sound. "Sorry, sir, that question is out of bounds. Now, I answered your question
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