“You’re full of shit,” I called his bluff as I punched him on the arm.
“Yep, I sure am,” he gloated before laughing.
“I knew it.” I laughed with him, slapping him playfully on the chest. Just as I was about to pull my hand away, he twined our fingers together there.
“Truth or dare?” he asked.
“I’ll go with truth, too. Keep things even,” I joked, but I could feel the seriousness bleeding into his simple question.
“Have you ever been with a girl?”
It was a simple enough question, an understandable one, even. But it still hurt. He’d known me forever; he’d known I’d never dated anyone, never bragged about hook-ups. Was he just asking me to soften the blow of a confession that hovered in the background for him?
“No,” I snapped and tried to pull my hand away from him. Of course, he wouldn’t let me, keeping it securely tied to his.
“Good, me either.” Three simple words and my anger dissipated.
Bypassing the rules of truth or dare, he skipped over my turn, and blurted out his next question without even bothering to ask me if I’d wanted the dare. “Another guy?” Now, I was not an expert of any kind at relationships – this one was still in its infancy, but anyone could hear the emotion coloring his words.
I shimmied up next to him, moved my hand from his, and rested my head on his solid chest, resting my cheek there as the slow, rhythmic motion of his breathing calmed my soul. Placing my right hand over his heart, I breathed in his scent before answering. “There’s only been you, Shane. And I couldn’t be happier about that.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me tightly to him before softly kissing the top of my head. “Me too.”
We talked for a long time, sharing stupid things that a new couple shares, that even as best friends we had never shared. Even through all the laughter, I never gave up my position curled next to him, cuddled against his chest.
The laughter faded as the seriousness returned. “Do you ever worry about being outed?” His question bothered me more than I could verbalize. I knew his concerns about his family finding out – his dad in particular – were scarier than mine, but I hated that he felt like he needed to hide me, us.
Rolling to my side, I planted my elbow on the soft ground and rested my head on my hand. “I actually planned on telling my parents before I left for school. I feel like I’m ready,” I admitted.
I saw the fear in his eyes, registered the rapid increase of his breathing. He moved away from me, only an inch or so, but I felt the warmth of his body vanish instantly. Sitting up quickly, he stared at me, more than just simple fright in his eyes.
“No, you can’t.” He shook his head violently as his voice took on a very frenzied tone. “I don’t know if I can deal with that, yet. What if it comes back to me?”
“Are you ashamed of me?” I sat up with him, crossed my arms over my chest. The hurt was clear in my voice no matter how much I wanted to disguise it as anger.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No,” he answered curtly. Frustration danced around us like the fireflies dotting the night sky.
“You fucking are. Don’t lie, you asshole.” I jumped up from where I was sitting and swung my leg over the outfield fence, heading toward the car. Before I could even open my door, I felt Shane step behind me. His hot breath was on my neck as he nudged his leg in between mine. He had me trapped between his body and the car and I couldn’t tell if I was happy or pissed about it.
But one thing was certain, I was fucking rock hard feeling him pressed up against me. He nuzzled my neck, his rough stubble leaving a delicious burn against my skin. The tip of his tongue flicked at my earlobe before he sensually pressed his full lips to the spot right below it. “I amnotashamed of you.” He pulled me closer, impossibly so. “Not at all,” he added as he grabbed at the bulge in my pants.
I arched my hips, trying but failing to pull away from him. Shane turned me in the strong circle of his arms before wrapping them around my waist, securing me to his body. His mouth crashed into mine, hard and fast, fevered and rushed. There was a sense of urgency to his kiss, but also a promise – I could taste it.
That taste – of blunt honesty and brutal truth – forced a garbled groan of pleasure to escape my mouth. Shane devoured it before pulling back from me, his eyes searching my face to make sure I was there with him. He grazed his knuckles along my cheek and jawline, canting his head to the side. “Believe me, please,” he begged. “I am not ashamed of you or of us.”
I closed my eyes slowly, just savoring the sincerity of his words, leaning into the tenderness of his touch. I nodded subtly, not wanting to break the contact of his hand on my face. My soft breath turned into a sharp inhale when he dragged the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. Out of pure instinct – or maybe it was just the desire to taste him – I darted my tongue out, and licked his finger.
Now, it was his turn to inhale sharply. Needing to taste more of him, I quickly grabbed his wrist and held his thumb in place. Without ever breaking eye contact, I sucked his thumb into my mouth. Sliding my lips and tongue across his skin, even if it was only his thumb, made me want to taste him all over.
We hadn’t gonethereyet, but if I had my way, we would betherein about two minutes. When I lightly scraped my teeth over his thumb, he groaned as his head lolled backward.
Completely lost to the feel of my mouth secured tightly around his digit, he didn’t even realize that I had pulled us away from the door and opened it. I pushed him down onto the seat – sideways, so that his legs stuck out the door.
We’d been here a million times as kids, way into the night sometimes, playing manhunt and goofing around. No one ever came down here. It was private.
And privacy was just what I needed to do what I wanted.
I sank to my knees, the gravel of the parking lot biting into my skin. Shane tried to get me stand up. “What are you doing?”
