She nods and I quickly close the door and dart around to the driver’s side. By the time I slide in, she’s buckled up and grinning at me. As I start the engine, the throaty roar of the 5.4-liter V-8 comes to life. I turn to her, barely able to speak with thoughts of what I hope to have time for shifting through my mind, and ask, “What time do you have to be home?”
She leans over and slides her tongue around the shell of my ear. “I have at least two hours. I was hoping you’d make it today, so I told my mom I had a study session and to ask Mrs. Cooper to babysit if she couldn’t get home before the girls’ bus.”
Turning my Corvette around the corner a little too fast, I drag my mind back to the road, but my dick twitches as I try to decide where we should go. My grandparents are in the process of moving from their house in Brentwood to a condominium in Beverly Hills and I’m pretty sure yesterday was moving day, so the house should be empty today. I know they have until the end of the summer to fully vacate, but I think we’re safe going there now. I glance at her as she settles back in her seat and fumbles through her bag with a look of concern on her face.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
Her eyes flutter as we turn the corner and the sun makes them sparkle. “Of course,” she says with a smile.
“Where do you want to go? Pool house or pier?” I ask. Of course, getting her naked is what I really want to do, but I’d be cool with just hanging out and talking if that’s what she’s up for. I know she has a lot going on with her mother.
Pulling a CD out of her bag, she ejects my Nirvana disc and tucks it into the sleeve above her visor, alongside the many others. Then she inserts hers into the player and kicks her feet up. Staring at her legs has me wishing I hadn’t given her a choice of where to go. She doesn’t answer right away. Instead she reaches for the sunglasses she threw on the dash and puts them on. Then she looks my way, raises her head, and quietly says, “The pool house is fine with me.”
My mouth goes dry and my breathing becomes forced. I’m a little more than excited with her choice. I try to deflect my anticipation by pointing to the player. “What CD is this?”
Dropping her feet, she turns toward me and just a glance has me looking at her tits overflowing from her pushup bra. Fuck, a week has been a long time. How am I going to make the two months this summer? I hope my mom will let me make calls from France.
“Stop staring at my chest,” she chastises me, not even attempting to pull the puckered fabric of her shirt together.
“How can I be staring when I’m driving?”
“I don’t know, but you are,” she says, turning bright red.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I tell her.
“I’m not,” she says shyly and searches in her bag again. She offers me a piece of gum and I decline as she sticks one in her mouth. She blows a bubble and pops it before hitting PLAY. “I made you a mix tape so that when you’re thinking of me you can listen to it and know I’m thinking of you. I also made you a photo album,” she says, pulling a black canvas album out of her backpack. Glancing at it, I can see it has a picture of us inserted in the front. It’s a photo from last summer when we went with my family to Niagara Falls to see Third Eye Blind perform. Ivy and I are standing on the Maid of the Mist in yellow ponchos—both of us have a look of awe on our faces as the water rushes all around us and the sound of the falls roars above us.
“The pictures aren’t to share. And don’t look at them until you’re in France. This is to keep you away from all those hot French babes.”
“Baby, I’m only interested in you.”
“Two months is a long time, though.”
“It is. But all it means is a lot of hand action,” I joke.
Her face blazes with color. “That’s why I’m giving you a few pictures.”
I glance back at the album with what I know must be a shit-eating grin.
“Caution” plays through the speakers, and the song pulls me back in time. It was the first song she wrote that we played together and the only song I ever had a vocal spot in. Both of us seem to lose ourselves in our memories. We’ve been dreading the time we’ll be apart this summer. I thought I was taking it harder than she was, but I’m no longer so sure. Sometimes I forget that underneath her seemingly hard exterior is that fragile, sensitive girl who captured my heart. She always seems undaunted, unmoved—but I know she’s not.
Taking her hand, I pull it to my lips. “You’re crazy with those thoughts. You know that, right?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “We’ve never been apart for two months.”
I hesitate, trying to find the right words, but I’m not sure what they are, so I settle on, “It’ll be okay. It’s not that long. But thank you.” I pause, then chuckle. “How did I get so lucky to snag a girl like you?”