She calls to me as I go into the bathroom. “Hey, Lark.”
I look back. “Yeah?”
She grins. “So how big is his dick?”
I laugh out loud. “Huge. Like porn-star standard.”
She chuckles. “Figures. It’s always the skinny guys with the biggest dicks.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m primped and ready. I tell them all goodbye as they wish me luck, grab the box of cookies Marta made for me to take with me to the party, and I go to the corner and get a bouquet of pretty flowers for Ryan’s mom. Then I take a deep breath and get in the car to go pick up Ryan.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m going to meet his parents. Parents who probably won’t like me just because I’m not deaf.
I text Ryan before we get there, so that he’s standing on the sidewalk when the car arrives. He doesn’t wait for the driver to open the door for him, he just opens the door and slides in. He’s wearing a sweater the color of plums that’s tight across his broad shoulders but folds at the waist, and a pair of worn blue jeans. The smell of his subtle cologne washes over me as he pulls me close and kisses me.
“I missed you,” he says.
I look down at the watch I’m not wearing. “For all of two hours?”
“I missed you the first minute.” He grins and kisses me again, and my heart does that flip-flop thing it does whenever he looks at me like that. “And the second. And the third.”
I look up to find my driver staring at us in the rearview mirror and I realize he’s waiting for instructions. “Can you give me the address?” I ask Ryan.
He types it into his GPS phone app, and shows it to the driver, who then pulls out into the street traffic.
Ryan reaches over and picks up the box of cookies Marta made. “What’s this?”
“Cookies for your mom. Don’t eat them.”
He tips the box. “What kind?”
“I’m not sure. Marta made them.”
He sets the box to the side.
“What did you get for your mom for her birthday?”
“Nothing.” He points to his chest. “She gets the gift of my company for a whole day.”
“Are you serious?” I stare at him until he starts to laugh.
“I am serious. It’s a rule. No presents unless we make them.” He shrugs. “I drew her a picture.”
“Where is it?”
“In my back pocket.”
“What did you draw?”
“I’m not telling. You’ll have to wait and see.”
He kisses me again and I feel like I’m going to melt into the seat.
“Can we have a sleepover tonight?” he asks.
I grin. I can’t help it. “What are you? Twelve?”
He nods. “We can make a blanket fort and heap up some pillows.”
“I love blanket forts.”
His eyes grow hooded and hot. “I can lay you back on the pillows and fuck you in the blanket fort.”
My heart skips.
“So, is that a yes?” he asks, pressing his hands together like he’s praying.
“It’s a maybe.” But inside, I know it’s a yes.
“We can play the hot lava game, and make a path of pillows and we can only step on the pillows when we leave the fort to go the bathroom or to get something to eat.”
“What happens if I fall off a pillow?”
He laughs and rubs his hands together like a mad scientist. “Then I get to come up with wonderful things that will make you scream.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
He shrugs. “Whatever way you prefer.” He licks his lips. “You liked it last night when I licked your *.” He makes the sign for “*” by making a triangle with his fingers and then licking down the center of it.
I shove his hands down in his lap. “Stop it!” I cry, glancing toward my driver.
He laughs and puts his arm around me, then kisses my forehead. “I did miss you when you were gone,” he says out loud.
This time when my heart pounds, it does it for a completely different reason. I lay my head on his shoulder and settle against him.