“God, you’re bizarre,” Dante said with a big smile, still holding me in his arms. It was pretty dark in the backyard, but his amused expression was unmistakable.
“But don’t you agree that horny is kind of a gross word?”
“No. And are you rambling like this because the thought of kissing me makes you nervous?”
“Definitely.”
“Thought so,” he said, before brushing his lips to mine.
I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight as the kiss deepened and my lips parted under his. My entire body responded as the kiss became passionate, insistent, his tongue claiming my mouth, his big hands crushing me against him. Everything else fell away. There was nothing in that moment besides Dante, and me, and that epic kiss.
And then the dog started barking inside the house, bringing me back to the here and now. It brought Dante back to earth too, and he picked up my hand and we went around to the kitchen door on the right side of the building.
I crouched down and went to work on the lock. There was a little light coming from the neighbor’s house, just enough to see by. Dante pulled his phone out of his pants pocket, and as he flipped through a few screens he said, “Randy is far worse than horny. Unless you’re British, I suppose. But since I’m not British, the word Randy immediately conjures images of a guy with a big belt buckle that drives a semi truck.”
“Truck drivers with big belt buckles make you randy?”
“No! Truck drivers with big belt buckles would be called Randy. The proper noun, not the adjective you’re trying to make it into.”
“It’s an adjective? Not a verb?”
“Why would randy be a verb?” Dante asked as he crouched down beside me.
“I dunno. Seems like an action word.”
Dante chuckled at that and held up his phone, then tapped the screen. A YouTube video on lock picking started to play. I studied the video, then concentrated on the lock. Fifteen minutes later, I sat back on my heels and sighed. “I suck at this.”
“Here, let me try,” Dante said, and we traded places. I played the video for him again and he watched closely, then went to work on the lock.
“Maybe I should have spent more money and not gone with the Hello Kitty lock pick set,” I said after a while.
“Ya think?”
“So maybe we should come back same time next week with some better tools.”
“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with these tools,” Dante said, his brow knit in concentration as he worked the lock. “You just shouldn’t have gotten the Hello Kitty set because you’re a grown man, and not a five year old girl.”
I laughed at that. “What kind of a psychotic company would make a lock pick set for a five year old girl?”
“What, do you think you’re the target market for that product?”
“Apparently. Since I actually bought it.”
“Incidentally, I’m pretty sure that kit isn’t a licensed Sanrio product,” he informed me. “The cat doesn’t look quite right. Its head’s kind of square. It’s probably some sort of cheap, trademark violating knockoff. Not so much Hello Kitty as Hell No Kitty.”
I laughed at that. “Well, I’ll be sure to turn ‘em in to the Hello Kitty police. And why do you know that the company that makes Hello Kitty is Sanrio?”
“Everyone knows that. Come here and help me.”
I crouched down beside him. “What do you want me to do?”
“Kiss me,” he said, and leaned over and planted a big smooch on my lips. He smiled at me and added, “And now hold this bottom tool in place while I work the top one.”
After a couple minutes with both of us working on it, we heard a clicking sound and looked at each other with wide eyes. Dante reached up and turned the door handle. “It’s unlocked,” he said with a huge smile.
“We did it!”
“Well, either that or it was unlocked the whole time. I don’t think we actually checked it before we started working on it.”
“No, think positive,” I said, straightening up. “We’re awesome. We totally picked the hell out of that lock.”
Dante straightened up too, and we gave each other a high five. He reached for the door handle, and I said, “Get the hamburgers ready.”
“The what?’
“The hamburgers. Wait, what did you do with the fast food bag?”
“Shit. I must have left it on the front porch.”
“Oh man! How are you even a criminal? I’m a better criminal than you are!”
Dante chuckled at that. “Want me to go back over the fence and around to the front of the house and grab the bag?”
“No. It’ll take way too long, and this has already taken forever. We’re going in, just stay behind me. I’m going to go straight through to the front door and grab the burgers, and then when we’ve used them to distract Peaches we can run upstairs to my room and get my stuff. We’re not going to try to take everything, just a few clothes and a couple things that have sentimental value,” I told him. And then I flung the kitchen door open.