Can you take off your shirt?”
I couldn’t see Rachel clearly on the other side of my truck’s cab. My eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness of my secret make-out hideout. But I could hear her
laughing her ass off. “Not even for Sean.”
“Well, we have to make it look good somehow. Do you mind if I take off mine? My dad says I look like sex on a stick with my shirt off.”
“Knock yourself out.”
I started to pull my shirt over my head. I was used to wearing T-shirts. When it wouldn’t give, I remembered I was wearing something Sean-like. As I unbuttoned it, I
asked, “Want to make a bet how long it takes him to get out here?
Her dad brought his hands together and popped a knuckle.
“Trevor,” Frances said soothingly, rubbing her hand on his back. But she was looking hard at me over her glasses, telling me upstanding citizens did not act this way.
When we were kids, that look from Frances could make Lori and her brother behave, and sometimes even my brothers, but I never seemed to get the message.
“I saw you coming out of the woods,” Lori’s dad shouted at me. “Together!”
“We weren’t rolling in the leaves or anything. Look, no evidence.” I put my other hand on Lori’s other shoulder and turned her around backward, hoping against hope
she didn’t have scratches from the tree on her bare back, or bark on her butt.
“Get your hands off my daughter.
Here’s what you did wrong, Adam,” he barked. “I told your parents to make it clear to you that you were not to see Lori again. You did it anyway. at’s what you did
wrong.”
“But—,” I started.
“Shhh,” Lori said beside me.
“That’s—,” I started again.
“Shut up,” Lori muttered.
“—ridiculous,” I finished.
“Adam, stop talking,” Lori said.
“Adam, stop talking,” Frances repeated.
Adam found a break through the thicket and up the hill. He turned
around and extended his hand to help me up.
I froze, staring at him in the thick heat, leaves tickling my legs. Boys did not help girls. Not in my experience, anyway. When I was one of the boys, they tromped ahead
of me and never once looked back to see if I was still there, much less in need of assistance. Boys had helped me only recently, when they wanted something.
No, this walk through the woods would not be innocent.
Taking his hand, I said, “Fank woo.”
“Hm,” he laughed with his mouth closed.
What I wanted to talk to you about was—”
He kissed me. At first he gently touched his lips to mine. e more exciting development was that in order to do this, he’d stepped very close. His chest was an inch
from mine. I could feel his heat. He tasted of blackberries. He leaned even closer and braced his muscular arms on the tree on either side of me.
When he broke the kiss to take a breath, I whispered, “Tree hugger.”
He opened his eyes, blue as the afternoon sky, and gave me this look. A combination of amusement and exasperation and hunger. He looked like a teenager making out
in the woods. Puzzling through this, I realized that I was gazing at him from the perspective of a six-year-old girl playing army and dodging rubber snakes.
But he was this teenager, and so was I. I felt the same need for him that he felt for me, like a force was drawing me forward into his heat. I just didn’t know how to say
it.
He cupped my chin with his big hand and watched me. He breathed hard through his nose. His shoulders heaved way harder than they should have after a few minutes
of kissing. I was about to suggest some additional conditioning exercises before football season started. I opened my mouth to tell him.
He kissed me again. His tongue passed my lips and played across my teeth. We’d only been kissing like this for a week, but it seemed very natural when I kissed him back
the same way. My body was on autopilot as I reached blindly for his waist and dragged him even closer, his torso skin-to-skin with mine against the tree. Who were we? I
was turning into any of the assorted older girls who’d been seen leaving the cab of Sean’s truck at night. I’d always viewed those girls with a mixture of awe and derision.
Sexual attraction was funny. Lust was hilarious.
Now, not so much. Those girls had my sympathy, because I totally got it. I ran my fingers lightly up Adam’s bare back.
He gasped.
I opened my eyes to see if I’d done something wrong. He still touched the tree, but his muscles were taut, holding on to it for dear life. His eyes were closed. He rubbed
his rough cheek slowly against mine. I had done nothing wrong. He was savoring.
I knew how he felt. Tracing my fingernails down his back again, I whispered, “Stubble or what?”
Eyes still closed, he chuckled. “I’m not shaving until our parents let us date again.” He kissed my cheek.
“What if it takes… a… while?” I asked, struggling to talk.
Why are you pretending to write, when I already know you're just doing that to intimidate me?
Jennifer EcholsWhen I'd first brought it home from the thrift store, I'd planned to keep it in the closet I shared with Summer, But Jordis asked me to hang it in full view of the room because she liked the glitter.
Jennifer EcholsHunter deepened it.
Jennifer EcholsI saw why Hunter had looked so horrified at the idea of me staying in his house. The walls were covered in glossy posters of fast cars and movie starlets wearing thongs.
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