It's great to be here all together, hanging out. This is like a better ending to the beach holiday, repairing all the chaos that happened.
*
Liam
It's five o'clock when Curtis and I leave Kennedy's. After Uno, we had a late lunch and sat around the dining table, chatting about nothing in particular. I'm grateful Bonnie and Erin adjusted to the news Curtis and I were dating so quickly. There have been some people upset by our relationship and I didn't want the cousins to be one of them. The fact that they were happy for us means a lot to me.
Curtis and I get into the car. Outside, the sun is already setting. That's the way it is during the middle of winter, I suppose, but I don't mind. Purple and pink light bleeds in the sky, and it's beautiful.
I glance at Curtis. Sometimes I have to remind myself of my reality. He's mine.
It feels like it's been days since that we started dating. We've met each other's parents (my parents think he's perfect, of course). I've babysat his siblings with him a few times, and I think they like me. My study sessions with Curtis are surprisingly productive. Probably because I always have something to look forward to once I've finished my work.
"Your parents are out tonight, aren't they?" Curtis asks, strong hands on the steering wheel.
I smile at him, even though his eyes are on the wall. "You know they are."
"I wanted to make sure," he says. I smile like a madman at him, and he can sense it, even with his eyes on the road. "What?" he adds.
"Nothing." I turn away to look through the window and stretch my legs out.
"Liam."
"I think I have a pavlovian response to certain things," I say.
"Like what?" Curtis says, glancing at my legs.
"Like you asking me if my parents are home. Or this car." I look around it and even months later, my body gets a little hot when I remember that first make-out session we had here. And all the ones after that.
Curtis clenches his jaw. I bite back a smile. "I know what your pavlovian conditioned stimulus is," I say.
"It's not you using psychology jargon," he says.
"You're clever, you know what I mean," I say.
He nods. "What is it?"
I raise a hand and wave my fingers with my painted fingernails.
Curtis glances at my hand before returning his focus on the road. "Fuck, Liam," he groans. "You're so fucking annoying."
"Don't bully your boyfriend," I say.
"I don't care," he says.
I laugh. I've learned Curtis has an obsession with my hands. He kisses them, sucks them… begs me to touch him everywhere with them.
Curtis turns onto a new street. We're less than two minutes from my house, and the anticipation is killing me.
"Sometimes I wonder if you want me to speed," he continues.
"I know you'd never. You being a careful driver is one of the things I love about you."
I've said something wrong. Curtis's smile fades, and he doesn't reply. Shit, did I say something offensive?
It takes until Curtis parks at the front of my house — which is a full 60 seconds — when I figure it out.
"Fuuuuuuuucccckkkkk," I groan, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees, head down.
