My throat gets tight.
How disappointed those eighteen-year-olds would be now, to see us at thirty, broken apart and angry.
“We have a lot of memories in this truck,” Garrett finally says.
His voice is rough, and his words catch on my own memories. After a long day being together in the enclosed space ofhistruck cab, this one shouldn’t feel different. But it is.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “If this bench seat could talk, right?”
He eases the truck forward another few feet, then comes to a stop again. Which is just enough time for my pulse to rocket out of control, because why did I say that?
But when he looks at me, and his gaze is hot and sharp and complicated, I know why I said it.
Because it’s really fucking hard to actually let Garrett go.
Damn it all to hell.
The roughness smooths out of his voice as he holds my gaze. “Sure was easier to do stuff in here than in my new truck.”
I swallow hard. “Why did they do away with bench seats? Consoles just get in the way of….” Jeez, I’m getting lightheaded. “You know.”
He nods. “I know.” Then he smiles, and whoa…. “Good thing that you’re not ovulating anymore. This old truck’s safe tonight.”
“What?” My pulse is pounding in my ears.
The cars ahead of us move again.
He doesn’t answer.
I shift closer to him. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Come on, Roar. We’ve hooked up exactly once a month since August, except for two months where you managed to resist the urge.”
“Well, I mean, like once a month was when the craving was the strongest, so to speak. It’s not that I don’t… It’s not that you aren’t… Are you fishing for compliments? Because I’ve already told you that you’re very good looking. Extra good looking now, in fact. I don’t know what you did with my boyfriend, but you’ve replaced him with like?—”
I run out of words.
Garrett just stares at me.
“This is like when a comedian gets tapped to be like in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and then they get jacked.” Now I’m rambling. “You did that.”
“I’m not that different.”
“No, you were always hot.” I laugh and grab for my hot chocolate, hiding behind the paper cup. “We shouldn’t be talking about this.”
His eyebrows curve up. “Why not? It’s nicer than fighting. Come on, tell me more about how I was hot when I was a skinny high school kid.”
He was skinny back in the day. A veritable beanpole, but he’d always been strong. Wiry. I take a sip of my drink and think about the advantages of him being whip-lean. “It made it very easy to straddle you on this bench seat, that’s for sure.”
He laughs out loud. “Oh, my God, don’t get me thinking about that.”
Now I’m giggling, too. “We’re stuck in traffic. We don’t have anything else to think about.”
He moves the truck forward another six feet, then grabs his drink and adjusts himself on the driver’s seat. It might be my imagination, but he flexes his thighs like he needs to create more room for his cock, which is…whew. I like that too much.
He clears his throat. “We could literally think about anything else. How about your aunt and your…nephews?”
“Cousins?” I dissolve into uncontrolled laughter. “You forgot the word cousins.”
