“Just seems weird. We’ve worked together for a year, and you started switching hours with me only a few months ago.”
“So?” I shrug and crack off another hunk of carrot, doubting I’ll survive the day without chocolate.
“On the evenings you leave early, you’re giddy. Giddy’s not your normal, especially when you’re going off to watch Johnny,soone plus one does not equal babysitting. It equals a boyfriend.”
That sends me into a coughing fit. If only Molly knew—but I can’t tell her. Mick doesn’t want Victor or my foster parents to know. He thinks Papa T wouldn’t approve of our relationship. But I go along with the secret to avoid the whispers and judgment. I don’t fit into Mick’s world, filled with jocks and the pretty, popular girls, and it would be stupid of me to think otherwise.
“You seriously need to redo your math,” I say, brushing it off.
“Hmm…” is all she replies, taking another bite.
Before I see Mick, I amend the note with a P.S.
Or how I’ll live through the barren existence that will be my life without Mick, I think glumly as I take my seat. There’s less than two months before he’s off to NYU. He was accepted into the summer writing workshop and received a scholarship for the undergraduate program in the fall. I’m so glad he’ll finally get away from his father. And happy for him that he’ll get to pursue his dream. But the impending separation has stressed me out to the point that I’ve missed my period and been eating out of misery. I’ve gained five pounds in the past two weeks, hence the raw-vegetable-only diet…which I’ll resume tomorrow. I caved earlier and bought two chocolate bars and a bag of barbecue chips from the vending machine.
Just before one o’clock, Mick enters the classroom, chatting with one of his teammates. He directs a sizzling smile at me that heats up my entire body. His eyes catch the folded paper on the corner of my desk and he discreetly slips it into his palm as he passes by.
“Good luck,” he says with a wink.
While Mrs. Harrison hands out the biology final, I angle a covert glance to watch Mick out of the corner of my eye reading my note. The look that comes over his face says he’s thinking of biology of a whole other kind. I blush and turn my attention to the test sheet, trying to concentrate on entering my answers correctly instead of counting down the hours.
At seven fifteen, I pull into our usual meeting spot, the back lot of an office building deserted for the night. I park my mint-green Volkswagen Beetle, the car Papa T fixed up for me as a birthday present. Mick’s already there in his Mustang, with the engine idling.
“Hi,” I say, sliding across the leather passenger seat. My heart gives a pleasant thump at the sight of him.
“Hi.” He leans over and kisses my lips, startling me. “I missed you,” he says after another quick but hungry peck.
We never share any intimacies until we’re at the lake. There, our safe bubble shelters us from the real world and the guilt of our secret. We’re just two people in love, and no one can touch that, taint it, or take it away.
As we make the drive out of town, he holds my hand on his thigh, breaking the connection only to change gears. We talk about our day and exams. What we don’t talk about—what we never talk about—is what happens to us after he leaves for NYU.
At a stop sign, Mick leans over for another wet kiss. “I want you so bad,” he murmurs against my lips.
When we finally get to the lake and he parks behind the soaring cliffs to conceal us from the road, my body is buzzing. He drags me into the backseat. His lips seeking mine, his hands everywhere. Mick’s always ardent but tonight there’s no build-up. And that’s fine by me. I don’t want slow. Or to think. Just feel.
Our climb is clumsy and we land with me on top of him in a tangle of limbs. Mick makes fast work of removing my shirt and bra. His hot hands close over my breasts. “Mm…” he groans before rolling us over.
Together, we manage to get him out of his shirt, but he doesn’t give me any time to explore. He’s tearing at the rest of my clothes with reckless abandon. I suck in my gut as a futile attempt to disguise the additional five pounds among all the others.
I envy the model-thin girls with no hips and small, perky boobs. The only thing remotely unfat about me is my proportionally smaller waist.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, smiling down at me before his lips caress mine and rescue me from my insecurities. “This is what I dreamed of last night.” His fingers rake my hard nipples and then his mouth is there, hot and wet. His tongue flutters over the sensitive tips and trail down my torso.
“You taste so good,” he murmurs, and I lose the rest of his praise to my escalating moans.
Just when I think I might die from being pleasured to death, I feel the warmth of his breath on my lower belly and then lower, on my most private area. He’s not really going to—
Mick nudges my legs open with his broad shoulders and, curling his arms beneath my thighs, dips his head.
Oh God, he is. I think to tell him to stop, but at the first intimate flick of his tongue, the only sound that comes out is a heartfelt “Ahh!”
My head thrashes against the back seat as his mouth, avid and furnace-hot, goes to work on my aroused flesh. All shyness gone, I arch my back and tunnel my hands through his hair, gripping the roots to press him closer.
He moves one of my heels to his shoulder to take me more fully into his mouth, drawing on me with a suctioning pull that catapults me into an orgasm so explosive I fear I’ve snatched him bald.
My unbridled response might have embarrassed me if it hadn’t inflamed his desire. With lightning speed, Mick peels off his jeans and tight briefs. My breath catches as I take in the hard length of him.
Beautifully naked, he kneels and I wrap my legs around his waist. It’s heaven on earth when he lowers his head to kiss me, his tongue driving into my mouth as he drives hard into my body. There’s no gentleness. Only urgency.
