Words are exchanged. I’m mortified. I don’t turn away, but watch him as he steps into a pair of worn out gray sweatpants. He comes toward me. He looks dangerous. Sexy. He reaches behind me and shuts the door. The telltale click of the lock turning into place doesn’t scare me.
Harrison rests against the counter, pulling me to him. It’s now or never. I want to touch him. I need to feel him under my fingertips to know if this is real or not. I stand between his legs. My knees are pressed against the cabinets below. I give in and let my hands roam up his chest. I purposely avoid his nipple ring. I want to savor the moment when I can pull it in my mouth. I finally push the offending towel off his head. He closes his eyes as my fingers delve into his hair. I’ve been aching to see him without a hat, and now that I have, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get enough. His dark hair is soft to the touch and showing a hint of curl. Each pass-through rewards me with a new thought. What does he look like with longer hair? Shorter? Does he ever shave it off, or does he keep it this length? Most importantly, will he allow me to touch him freely whenever I feel the need because right now, I can’t get enough. The wait has been too long to only touch once. He keeps his hair covered for security, why? Who’s he protecting himself from? I want him to let me in and teach me how to be the security we both need. Everything about his man is turning me on when I thought that wouldn’t be possible, but standing here, pressed against him, I know that I have to try, that I owe it to myself to see if we’re capable of being together.
I startle awake. Looking at the clock, it’s time to get up. My body is on edge, racked with nerves and anxious to see him again. I don’t know if I should call him or maybe show up at his house. We don’t have plans to see each other and I’m afraid to admit that it scares me that we don’t. I refuse to allow myself to think he has plans with someone else, but the truth is, I don’t know. I can’t help but second-guess everything and I know I need to stop.
When I enter the living room, the twins are sitting on the couch together sharing a bowl of dry cheerios and watching cartoons. This was Mason’s way of making them wait until I woke up before we had breakfast. Breakfast together on the weekends – that’s how things are in the Powell household. Knowing that they’re content, I sneak off to the bathroom. I rest against the closed door and think about Harrison and everything that happened yesterday comes flashing back. If men can get away with a cold shower, what can women do?
"PaPa, PaPa,” both girls yell as soon as they are out of the car. My father-in-law, Michael Powell, steps out onto his wrap-around porch. He bends down and embraces both of them, rocking them back and forth. They are all he has left of Mason and his wife, Susan. I don’t really count. I was just his daughter-in-law, but those girls… they are his link to the two most important people in his life. I know he loves me, though. We’ve shared a bond from the first day I stepped into his house.
“Dad,” Mason yells through his house. He drops his football bag on the living room floor and strides down the hall. I stand at the door with my back pressed against the wall. I straighten out my skirt. It’s long, just below my knees and flowing. I feel stupid wearing this today, but my mother insisted. She said a young girl doesn’t meet parents in shorts or jeans. I’m surprised she let me ride in Mason’s truck and let me come over. I’ve seen her watching us from the window when we’re swimming and he’s sneaking kisses. I tell him not to kiss me in the swimming pool, but he doesn’t listen.
“Katelyn?” I look up from the floor and grin at Mason. He’s so cute and hot, definitely one of the cutest boys in school. I like that he’s my age, but it scares me that I’m not his first girlfriend. I try not to think about what will happen when school starts. I know he’s going to dump me for someone else. I’m just his summer fling because we have a pool, that’s what my mom says.
But right now, I’m enjoying it when he’s kissing me, encouraging me to touch him when we do. I felt his chest yesterday and I liked it. I don’t know if he liked it though, and that worries me. What if I’m not doing things right?
“Katelyn,” Mason steps forward and pulls my hand into his. His fingers interlock with mine and swallow my hand. “This is my dad, Michael Powell. Dad,” Mason looks at me, he smiles so big that I can count his teeth if I wanted. “This is my Katelyn.” Mason squeezes my hand. I try not to let my body react, but my heart is beating so fast that I think it’s going to jump out of my chest. He said ‘my Katelyn’.
Mr. Powell steps forward and offers his hand for me to shake. I let go of Mason’s hand and place it in his. I know Mason’s parents. I’ve told him this, but Mason said it’s different when you introduce the girl you’re seeing to your parents.