“You want some breakfast?” I ask.
According to my alarm clock, it’s 8:10. I can’t imagine Joe will bring my aunt back too early, so we have time. It’s nearly an hour from the city, too. Shane rolls out of bed and scrambles into his jeans so fast that I don’t see much, then I’m left thinking about morning wood. He was holding me away from him, so I wonder—
He interrupts my blush-inducing thoughts with, “Yeah, that’d be nice. Then I need to get home. I have some things to do before my shift.”
As I look on, Shane swaps the U of M tee for his button-up and I suddenly have butterflies in my stomach. His bare chest is … delicious. He’s lean and strong without being too muscled. I don’t let on that I’ve never seen a half-naked guy up close and personal before. It’s my private opinion that I should win an Oscar for being so very cool about all of this.
I search my brain for reasonable response. “When do you work?”
“Three to eleven, Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday.”
I’m pleased to hear he’ll have Fridays free, though I can’t assume he’ll want to do this every week. And he certainly can’t stay over all the time. “Noted.”
In the kitchen, I whip up some scrambled eggs and toast. He eats quickly, but I think it’s a sign that he’s worried about being here when my aunt gets home. Afterward, he leans down to kiss me. For a few seconds, I forget my own name.
I’m dazed when he says, “See you tomorrow?” like that’s a question.
“Yeah. That reminds me … I told my aunt I’d do the shopping for tomorrow’s lunch. So when I show up at the P&K, don’t assume it’s because I’m stalking you.”
“If I was going to think that, it would’ve been when you showed up at my house, out in the middle of nowhere.”
He has a point—and it’s closer to true than I’d like to admit. “Then see you later, maybe.”
“Do you want me to help you clean up?” I shake my head, but he totally gets twenty gold stars for offering. “Later, Sage.”
Shane shrugs into his jacket and he’s out the door at a quick jog. I’d like to say I don’t stand at the window to watch until he turns off my street. That would be a lie. Eventually I get motivated enough to clean the kitchen and hide the evidence of my sleepover. I feel so awful; this is the first truly bad thing I’ve done since I got here. So I work like crazy all morning to make up for it. The house is spotless by the time Aunt Gabby sweeps in at ten; she doesn’t have time to do anything but change her clothes before work. I’m glad Joe doesn’t come in. Though I like the guy well enough, I’m not eager to make conversation on a Saturday morning, especially when I suspect he boned my aunt the night before.
“You have enough money to buy stuff for tomorrow? If not, there’s some cash in the coffee can,” she tells me as she sweeps out the door.
“Bye!” I call, feeling guilty that she trusts me and here I let a boy spend the night.
She can never find out. She thinks you’re better, that you’re good.
I do a couple hours of homework while ignoring the ping of texts from Ryan. Once I finish, I check my phone, still in my bag from the night before. To my surprise, they’re not just from Ryan. I have messages from multiple people, including Lila and the sophomores.
Text from Ryan: did u have fun last night
Text from Lila: will pick u up at 7:15, ok?
I realize then that I haven’t asked my aunt if I can go to a party at the Barn. She thinks we’re making lasagna tonight. Crap. Having a social life is complicated. The other messages are confirming the time for lunch tomorrow. Quickly I send replies: yes, yes, and 2:30, see you then.
If I do some prep work, we can probably put together the pasta before I leave with Lila. So I head to the market to do the shopping, then I get to work in the kitchen.
Later, when Aunt Gabby calls, I say, “All we need to do is finish up when you get here.”