“Like on the wall?”
“Anywhere. I want to pencil it in. And I’ll add a few other additions. Tomorrow: sex. Tuesday: sex.”
And to think I’d been worried about taking her virginity—that she might have regrets. Apparently not. It didn’t seem to register with her that she’d just given it away to me and could never get it back. I just hoped she wouldn’t regret it someday. At least I’d given Grace the choice, which was more consideration than I’d gotten.
“On second thought… Let’s do it again.”
“Right now?”
“Well, you’re busy all next week.”
My laugh came in a slow rumble, and hers followed a ripple away. Once combined, the bed shook from our hysterics. I wrapped her in my arms, flipped her onto her back, and hovered over her with my hands on either side of her head.
A ringing phone killed our vibe.
“Oh my god,” Grace moaned. “My mother.”
“How do you know it’s her?”
“It’s her. Almost like the woman has a chastity meter that just went off.”
“She’s a little late. Might need some batteries in it.”
Grace climbed off my lap and crawled across the bed to retrieve her phone. I could see the black FaceTime screen come up with a large-lettered mood killer written across the screen. ‘Mom.’
“Oh shit!” I said, scrambling off the bed. “Don’t get that.”
I retrieved my jeans off the floor and hurriedly dragged them up my bare legs.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” she laughed. “My god, you’re quick on the draw.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need to know your mother to know seeing her seventeen-year-old daughter naked in bed with an eighteen-year-old street kid has all the makings of a Shakespearean tragedy.”
“Former,” she corrected. “Former street kid.”
“Do you really think the correct tense will matter to her?” I said, pointing to her phone. “Get your finger away from the accept button.”
“It’s nowhere near it.” She giggled. “Dude, chill. You’re making me miss vulnerable Rory who wanted to catapult out of the ceiling a minute ago. Look.” She held up her phone. “The FaceTime request disconnected.”
I leaned over to confirm the black screen while struggling to right my shirt and get it over my head. It took several tries.
“I need to call her back. Can I count on you to be cool?”
“Yeah,” I said, rummaging through a drawer to grab some socks. Even though I hadn’t been wearing them before, I felt the need for them now. I jumped on one foot, slipping one sock on and then the other. “I’ll be quiet.”
She looked me over, amused. “Are you going somewhere?”
“No. Call her back.” I pulled a beanie over my head. “Make sure you don’t accidently FaceTime.”
Grace shook her head and pushed the call button. “Hey, sorry I missed the call.”
There was a pause as Grace got an earful and then began a one-sided conversation. “I told you I was going out. Yes, I did. Just as you were leaving. I mean, maybe you didn’t hear me. At the movie theater. Just hanging out. I know. The reception’s really bad. I can’t even send texts.”
Grace was a horrible liar. I’d seen three-year-olds with a better command of deception. Her mother was never going to buy this shit. My pulse was spinning like a record player.
I grabbed a sweatshirt.
There was a long period of silence as Grace listened. I assumed her mother was relating how disappointed she was in her daughter. Wasn’t that how it went in real families? Disappointment was the strongest discipline. Grace reacted appropriately—not the least bit concerned. And why should she be? Disappointment wasn’t followed by fists.
