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Socialism
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Laney
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Why is my phone ringing at 8am on a Saturday? I’m the polar opposite of a morning person, which anyone close to me knows, so I ignore it; it’s obviously a wrong number. When it immediately rings again, I pull my head out from under my pillow with a grunt and hotly answer.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Walker! Whatcha doin’?”
Has Kaitlyn’s voice ever sounded more annoying? “Not sleeping, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I snarl with no attempt to hide the sarcasm.
“Well get up, cause Parker’s having a bonfire tonight and we’re going!”
Big deal.
Parker Jones has bonfires all the time, none of which I have graced, even though he’s one of my good friends. What’s the point? I can hang out with the best person in this town, Evan, anytime I want, without drunken, obnoxious onlookers. I yawn loudly, already bored. “Not only am I not going, but I’m guessing it doesn’t start at 9am, so why are you calling now?”
“Laney, when was the last time you went out, like out? I’m gonna need all day to get you party presentable, so get up and I’ll be there at 11.” Such a girl; good thing she doesn’t bat like one.
Every bit as stubborn as Kaitlyn, I reiterate that I’m not going and sincerely doubt she will find Mr. Right in a field full of drunken idiots stumbling around a bonfire.
“It’s our senior year, Laney. You have to make it to one social event before your high school career is over. Besides, it’d be unsafe for me to go by myself.”
Damn her! This point actually puts a dent in my armor and I inwardly cringe, knowing I’m now committed.
“Fine, I’ll go to look out for you, but we leave when I say and I’m driving. Plus, don’t even think about showing up here before 6ish. I don’t need time to get ready. Really, neither do you, diva. Not only will it be dark, but everyone there will have on beer goggles.”
Surely she sees the sense in my reasoning, but she doesn’t comment on it, only squealing as I hang up.
Having finished that nightmare of a conversation, I slam the phone on my nightstand and attempt to go back to sleep, but Evan struts into my room about fifteen minutes later, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. We really needed to review the open door policy...I am a sleeper inner!
“Morning, beautiful. Sweet dreams?” he asks amorously.
With my messy bedhead hidden underneath the pillow, I can’t help but peek out to run my covert, lazy gaze over him. Okay, he’s forgiven. He can’t help it if
She’s a morning person, ever evidenced by his still damp hair and the fact his baby face is freshly shaven. I can smell his aftershave, a lot like fresh, clean cotton with a hint of musk, from where he leans against my dresser.
I can’t let him totally off the hook. “Evannnnnn,” I whine, “we are not farmers. Why are you here so early?” I sit up slightly, resting against the headboard and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My comforter falls down and the draft causes goosebumps to rise along my skin, tightening it. It’s not the only thing that tightens and I glance down to my now hard nipples and grimace at the fact that I’m wearing a white sleep tank.
I look up at Evan, blushing what I can only guess is crimson, and realize he’s noticed my physical aversion to chilly mornings. He immediately diverts his focus and clears his throat.
“I came to ask if you want to go fishing with me today. It’s beautiful out, and Dad says they’re bitin’ down at Miller’s Landing. You in?”
He’s still not looking directly at me, but rather taking in the team softball poster on my wall like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, even though I’ve long since pulled the comforter back up under my chin.
“That actually sounds wonderful,” I start, his mouth immediately turning up and his eyes beginning to twinkle, “but Kaitlyn called me at obscene o’clock and asked me to go to Parker’s shindig tonight.”
His mouth actually drops open before he can stop it, his eyes bulging. “You’re going to Jones’? You never go to parties!” he says, half-accusatory.
“I didn’t say I wanted to go, but she’s a good friend and she didn’t want to go alone. She played the ‘safety in numbers’ card,” I explain.
I see his lil smirk and dimples; he really is captivating. Seconds before he finally makes direct eye contact, he says, “cards, huh? Well, I call. I’ll pick you girls up here at eight.”
Smug in what he believes is his clever victory, he turns and leaves my room with a little extra cock to his walk. I’m actually thrilled he’s taking us because I’m always the most secure when Evan’s around, but I dare not burst his bubble.