“I can’t, but I know you won’t be mad when all is said and done.”
“What?”
“Can you just trust me?”
“Of course, I trust you, but I am confused.”
“I know.”
We get to school and part ways to go to homeroom; since they are divided up by last name, we aren’t in the same class.
“I’ll see you this afternoon,” I say.
“Oh, no. I have a doctor's appointment in Tallahassee. Can you walk home?”
“Walk? It’s like six miles,” I say dumbly.
“I’m sorry. You probably should have driven yourself today.”
“I’ll figure it out. See you later,” I say, walking off.
What a weird day, I think as I take my seat in Mr. Toledo’s homeroom class.
I make it through the rest of the day. I tried calling my parents to pick me up, but no one answered. I grumble as I start to walk home. At least there’s sidewall most of the way, but it’s eighty-five degrees. Ugh.
“Need a ride?” a familiar voice asks. I look over to confirm Aaron is the one talking to me through the open window of his huge F-350. When he started college, his grandparents bought him this truck two years ago, which still looks brand new.
“Aaron. Thank God,” I say as he puts the car in park and jumps out and around the car before I can finish my sentence.
He takes my backpack and pulls the passenger open. I start to climb up on the step rail, but he stops me. He puts his huge hands on my waist and lifts me up, setting me gently on the passenger seat. He puts my bag at my feet and steps up into the truck, buckling my seatbelt for me. I barely had time to relish in the feel of his hands on me or his chest in my face. All I can do is breathe in his scent. He smells like leather and fresh-cut grass. I turn crimson when I let out a little moan of excitement. He either didn’t hear me or ignores me, thank God.
I’ve been in a car with Aaron tons of times since he got his license, but Avaline or Beckett was always with us. That must be why this feels so different.
Chapter Three
Aaron
She’s here in my space. This worked just like I planned. This whole day has been a plan. With everyone’s help, I got her alone with me. Their gifts to her were also my idea. The house I am building next door to my parents will need to be furnished, and she should be able to decorate it however she wants.
“Thanks for stopping. I was not looking forward to walking home in this heat,” she says.
“You’re welcome,” I say. Suddenly not sure what to say to her now that she’s here. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Oh, you remembered. Thank you.”
“Of course, I remember, Kerenza. I remember everything about you.”
“If you did, you’d remember that I hate Kerenza with a fiery passion.”
“I just think you haven’t heard it at the right time.”
“And what time would that be? Because four-fifty in the afternoon, isn’t it,” she says, laughing at her joke.
“I think you’d like it much better if you were under me, taking my cock in your tight cunt, and I whispered it into your ear while I was pounding in and out of you.” Her laughter abruptly stops. Okay, that might have been laying it on a bit thick too soon, but it’s out there now.
“You’re probably right about that,” she says, not at all flustered by my words. “Where are we going?” I just passed the turn-off for our street.
“I thought I take you out for a birthday dinner,” I tell her. I have put together a picnic out at Tracer’s Wood.
“How do you know I don’t have a date tonight?” she asks. I grip the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles turn white.
“Do you have a date tonight?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“No, but I could have,” she says, reaching over and loosening my fingers on the wheel.
“I would have killed the bastard.”
“Why would you do that?” she asks innocently.
“God, you really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” she asks as I pull into a parking space at the park.
“Look in the glove box, Ren,” I tell her, and she reaches her hand forward. Inside it is today’s post-it.
“I have always loved you and always will, XOXO,” she reads. “It’s you? You’re my post-it admirer?” Her voice is hard. Does she not want it to be me? Does she pine for another?
“Yes.”
“But you could have said anything at any time, Aaron. Literally, anytime.”
“I couldn’t, Ren. You were a child,” I say, as if that really explains anything, though it should be enough.
“So were you, for most of that time,” she retorts.
“Do you know how hard it is to be in love with someone and not be able to say anything?” I ask.