Heartburn (Love By Design 3)

“Yes, Oh.” He mimicked kissing my neck and licking the skin teasing me until I felt shivery.

The idea had merit. It was something I could tell my sister’s future kids when I was an old lady living with my cats because I lived an interesting and impulsive life. “Go to Vegas, huh?”

“Yes.” He reached his hand out, his fingers rubbing against mine in a slow stroke.

“Hmm,” I responded. I thought about my classes and part-time job thinking I could swing it, but the airfare would cut into my savings pretty deeply. I ran through my budget, it would be tight, but I could make it work.

“Be my date.”

“Your date?”

“Mine.” He whispered cupping my check in his calloused palm that sent tingles to my lady bits.

“Yeah, your date. I think I could swing that.” Taking off a Friday of classes wouldn’t be the end of the world and what college kid never skipped class anyway.

Whit picked at a frayed hole starting in his cargo pants speaking, “You don’t have to ask your parents for permission or anything do you?” He ran his hand through his hair resting on his elbow.

Huh, well, I hadn’t thought of that.

“I’m an adult. Legal age, so no, not really.” It kind of stuck in my craw that Whit was asking me about my parent’s thoughts. I couldn’t get them to support any of my college majors thus far so this wasn’t exactly a road I felt like traveling down with him today. Hadn’t I been pained enough?

He rolled over to look at me. “You’re not twenty-one yet. Won’t they worry about you flying out of state with your ah–older boyfriend?” I guess we were traveling down this road at lightning speed then. I hoped my age wasn’t going to be the hang up every time I turned around with him, as if I didn’t know my own mind or couldn’t make a rational decision.

“Whit.” I grumbled.

“Amelia.” His face reflected a serious expression like this was important to him or important in some fundamental way I couldn’t understand.

“Okay, that’s true, but I don’t plan on being a drunken date and obviously I can’t gamble in the casino, but it would be fun to hang out.” I don’t mention my parents because they would indeed freak out and I had no intention of inviting that conversation. I might not be twenty-one, but I was well over eighteen. I could vote, join the military, and have all the sex I wanted. I didn’t understand his hang up about a magic number when the bar crowd was never my scene to begin with. Meeting my parents would only solidify the weirdness and send him running for the hills. It wasn’t like this wasn’t going to change in a few months anyway. See. Moot point.

Whit mulled this over, but his face held onto that constipated expression that said he didn’t like what was happening, but he had no idea of how to stop it. Good. Because I had zero plans to stop his romance train should he decide to go tooting his horn.

“I’ll pay for airfare and the hotel of course. I know this is supposed to be a surprise for Hunter and Taylor. Kristen will probably call to harass you. Girl stuff and whatnot...”

“Awesome.” His friends were around his age, some not too much older than me, but enough to feel like the extra wheel being the youngest in the group. I bet they all gave Whit shit for dating me and I even heard a few odd conversations where jailbait was thrown around and I don’t mean in a bro-code sort of way.

“You might rethink that when she starts throwing dick cake and confetti your way.”

“I’ve always wanted to see a real dick cake. I guess I can check that off my list now. Thanks babe.” I kissed him cheekily.

“Anytime.” Whit grinned wrapping his arms around my middle pulling me close.

It was settled. We were going to Vegas.

18

Whit

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” Lia groaned leaning over her lap like she was faint or sick. I’d seen Lia express a number of emotions, but a nervous fear wasn’t one of them that came around often. My hand went to the back of her head rubbing the soft spot on her neck attempting to reassure her. I had a paper bag ready if she started hyperventilating, but I knew she’d work thru this fine.

“I think my knee hurts. Let’s go back. I can’t sit in the car this long to drive there.” She sounded pitiful and full of shit. I couldn’t fully empathize why this was so terrible when I was the one under inquisition for

being the supposed cradle robber, but I didn’t remind her of that. The sweat on her brow and the tapping of her leg seemed penance enough.

“Well, we could go back and have the clinic check your knee out if you want, but they’ll probably just want to give you a tetanus shot and send us on our way.”

“I’m only doing this for the fountains and the magic show.” She continued her pout and I patted her uninjured leg.

“Good girl.”