Forever With You

Part 1

Chapter 1 – Frank’s

Tuesday, July 12

Tawny – 3:00 PM

"Well folks, we’ve done it. The thermometer here at KLOS has just tipped past a sweltering one hundred and eight degrees Fahrenheit, which means we have officially broken the record of one hundred and six degrees set back in 2005." The weatherman on the FM station blaring from the kitchen makes it sound like an accomplishment, as if everyone in Winnemucca has been pulling out all the stops to purposely transfigure our town into the furnace it’s been this summer.

I’m working a double at Frank’s Pizza today. Lunch was pretty much a bust – I waited on a total of two tables. I’m guessing the heat has something to do with it. All I can do is sit and roll silverware by the window AC unit at the back of the tiny restaurant, as far away from the blistering heat of the brick ovens as it’s possible to get. I’m waiting for the dinner rush to come around – although truthfully I’m not expecting much of a turnout this evening either.

I can hear Mick, the daytime shift manager, out back on his cell phone while he takes his smoke break. I’ve gathered from his multiple phone calls this afternoon that he’s going through a pretty gruesome breakup with his live-in girlfriend, Jamie. Earlier he was swearing like a sailor, irate as can be, but now he’s switched to crying and begging. I roll my eyes, thinking for the hundredth time today and the millionth time this month how badly I need to get out of Winnemucca.

It’s hard to believe it’s already been over a year since I graduated high school. After a lot of thinking and discussing with my parents and older sister, I decided I would take a gap year and work before going off to college. Considering the sort of high school career I led, which cycled from unconventional at best to downright dysfunctional at worst, I just wasn’t quite ready to leave home yet. My mom was more than thrilled to keep me, of course – my sister, Rhiannon, thinks she’s scared to death of becoming an empty nester.

It’s true I’ve managed to save up a decent amount of money working, especially since our parents haven’t held me responsible for any of my own finances. Still…I have got to get out of here. I didn’t think it would be this hard being the one left behind, one of only two in my class who stuck around after graduation. The other was a boy named Bryan, who stayed to work on his family’s farm.

Christmastime was when it really hit home – all of my high school friends descended on the town for the holidays, each of them full of fascinating stories about college and classes and the new friends they’d made and places I’ve never seen before. I started applying to schools the very next week, and I received my acceptance letter from UN Reno a couple of months later. I’m counting down the days until freshman orientation – thirty-two days from today I will move out of this godforsaken town and begin my new life. And it will be in a place where no one knows my history, and no one will look at me with sympathy in their eyes, like I’m still the girl with no hair, no strength, and no future prospects.

4:15 PM

The cold water gushing from the bathroom faucet feels heavenly against my hot skin as I splash it on my heat-flushed cheeks. I wipe my face with a paper towel, then flip my hair upside down and gather it into a messy ponytail. After a few years with nothing more than a trim, it’s almost back down to my waist.

I’m smoothing back the flyaways when the sound of a fist pounding against the door causes me to jump. Tawny! You have customers! Mick bellows.

I tug on my hair to tighten the elastic, then open the door just in time to see Mick’s surly form retreating into the kitchen. I round the booths at the back of the restaurant and make my way to the tables near the front windows. A guy and girl sit facing me in the corner booth. I quickly recognize my former classmate Les Rayburn; the girl whose chair his arm is draped across the back of is his girlfriend, Leila Anderson – she was a year behind us in school.

I pull my notepad out of my apron as I approach. I’m still fishing around for my pen when a familiar voice says, Tawny Read?

My eyes snap up to meet the gaze of the person addressing me – Kyle Freeman. My pulse quickens – I hadn’t realized there was someone else sitting across the booth from Les and Leila. My mouth drops open at the realization he’s even more mind-blowingly gorgeous now than he was in high school. His brown hair has grown out a little, and he’s sporting a deep golden tan. The dark stubble covering his angular face makes him appear older, less like the kid I’ve known since kindergarten.

Yeah, hi, I say the moment I remember to quit gawking and speak when spoken to. Wow, it’s been a long time! God, I hope my voice doesn’t sound as giddy as it does in my head. I swallow and concentrate on controlling the rate of my breathing. My eyes dart to Les and Leila, and I smile broadly in an effort to prove I really do have manners. I’m amazed how quickly the old feelings come flooding back – I’m so caught up in the head rush I almost forget to be embarrassed that I’m standing here in a Frank’s Pizza uniform with marinara stains on my white t-shirt.

I glance back at Kyle, who’s beaming at me. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he’s actually happy to see me. I wondered where you ended up, he says as he sits back in his seat and crosses his arms. My eyes drop to the hemp bracelet encircling his wrist. Did you go away for school this year?

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling overheated. Really, he thought about me? I fan my face with my notepad as I reply. No, I worked. Here, actually. I’m starting at Nevada next month though.

No kidding? he asks, his eyebrows raised. In Reno?

Yep.

We’ll be classmates then, he says.

Wow, really? I say, unable to keep from blushing. Of course I already knew Kyle goes to UNR. Majoring in journalism, if my memory serves… His grandma is in the same Bible study group as my mother, and understandably she likes to brag on him.

Yeah, we’ll have to all hang out when you get there, says Les coolly as he runs a hand through his mop of red hair. Leila’s gonna be a freshman this year, too.

I look at Leila, who offers me a half smile. Totally, she agrees.

I’d love that, I say. I let out a long breath, reminding myself not to get too excited. Les and Kyle never invited me to hang out with them in high school – why would they start now?

Kyle – 4:30 PM

"What can I get you guys to drink?" asks Tawny. I watch her, sort of amazed, as she addresses Les and Leila. I’m pretty sure the last time I saw her was at our graduation – I remember marveling at the way her oversized royal blue polyester robe matched her eyes exactly. I always thought she was cute in high school, but now she’s just plain beautiful. I’m glad to see she’s filled out some – she’s not as skinny as she used to be. I notice when she turns to take Leila’s order her hair has grown out longer, too – the end of her ponytail now touches the middle of her back. My mind goes fleetingly to the day she first showed up at school with a hat on to cover her shaven head, and a dull ache twists in my chest.

She looks back at me, and my fogged brain scrambles to catch up to the present. Diet Pepsi, I say smoothly. My eyes remain on her as she turns and walks away, her slender hips swaying.

Looks like this year has been good to her, says Les as he rubs Leila’s shoulder.

Yep, I say noncommittally, lowering my gaze back down to my menu. Years of being Les’s friend have taught me to never act too interested in any female if you don’t want to be hounded about it or embarrassed in some way in front of her.

5:15 PM

Forty-five minutes later our pepperoni pizza has been reduced to crusts and crumbs. I pick up the grease-spotted slip of paper with our total printed on it in Tawny’s small, tidy penmanship and dig my wallet out of my back pocket.

How much? asks Les as he reaches for his own.

Don’t worry about it, man, I got it, I tell him. I owe you for gas anyway.

Are you sure?

Yeah, no problem. I stand up and walk back to the counter with the Cashier sign suspended over it. Tawny is standing with her back to me, drying glasses with a rag. She turns around when she hears me walk up, and I could almost swear I notice her cheeks turn a little pink – it makes me smile.

Is there anything else you needed? she asks as she holds her hand out for the check. I place it along with a twenty and a five dollar bill in her palm.

Nah, we’re good, thanks, I reply. And don’t worry about the change. It’s a pretty exorbitant tip, especially by my own tightfisted standards, but I can’t seem to help that I want to give her something.

Whoa, okay…Thanks, she says as she watches me unwrap a toothpick from the jar next to the register. Now would be the time to walk away – transaction complete – but I don’t.

You still living with your parents? I ask her casually.

She ducks her head bashfully and nods. Yeah, I’m still at home.

I cluck my tongue and shake my head. I couldn’t do it, I say, chuckling. My grandparents are great and everything, but there’s no way I could move back in there. That’s why I stayed in Reno this summer. We’re just here visiting till Saturday.

Yeah, it’s not my favorite living arrangement either, Tawny mumbles.

Where will you be living at UN? I press further as I roll the toothpick between my teeth. I rock back on my heels and hook my thumbs in my pockets.

The dorms. Argenta Hall?

I nod. That’s where I lived last year. It’s not bad, really. The food’s actually pretty good.

She cocks her head to the side and smiles. That’s good.

An awkward silence settles between us. I fidget a little, scrounging for something else to say, but my mind is blank. The sound of chair legs scraping against linoleum alerts me that Les and Leila are ready to go. I look back at Tawny and say hurriedly, Hey, why don’t you give me your number? That way I can look you up once school starts back up and we can catch up some more.

Oh, okay, she says. The words tumble out like she’s been holding her breath. She recites her phone number, and my thumb flies over my phone’s screen, rushing to get it programmed before Les can come investigate. When I glance up he’s looking at me curiously. I stuff my phone back in my pocket.

Thanks, Tawny. Later. It comes out more brusquely than I had intended. I quickly swivel around to follow Les and Leila out the swinging glass door.

Chapter 2 – All Nighter

Friday & Saturday, July 15-16

Tawny – Friday, 10:45 PM

I’m lying on my bed watching reruns of The Cosby Show and hoping against all hope that my social life will improve substantially when I finally get out of this town. My original plans for this evening included seeing a late movie with my old friend Becca, but she flaked out at the last minute, leaving me to the solitary joys of mint chocolate chip ice cream and syndicated television. My parents have been sound asleep for well over an hour, and my ancient dog Sophie is curled up at my feet as if in a coma.

I scoop up my phone just as the credits start to roll on the episode where Denise announces she’s pregnant. A quick glance at my inbox reminds me I still haven’t responded to a text message Rhiannon sent almost an hour ago:

Wanna go halvsies with me on getting Mom’s sewing machine fixed for her birthday?

I move my ice cream bowl off my lap before typing a response.

Yeah that works

A minute passes before the text alert chimes her response.

OK deal. What are you up to tonight?

Whole lotta nothing. Was considering staying up all night just for kicks.

Really? Why?

No reason. I’m just not tired.

Anything you want to talk about? Blake’s out with a friend, so I have plenty of time on my hands.

I love my sister probably more than anyone else I know, but sometimes she reads too much into things. It may not be obvious to anyone else, but I can tell from that last message she’s already jumped to conclusions about what she likely considers to be my fragile emotional state. Even though I’ve been healthy and cancer free for a few years now, she still reacts to my mood swings as if she’s solely responsible for rescuing me from my every downward spiral. Most of the time I don’t really mind her protective nature, even finding it endearing at times, but tonight she’s missed the mark.

No I’m good. It’s just that I don’t work tomorrow so it’s not like I have anything better to do.

OK. Well call me if you change your mind. Night T.

Night.

Slowly I roll up off the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping dog, and tiptoe down the hall to rinse my bowl out in the kitchen sink. The rest of the house is dark except for the pale, filtered light of the moon shining through the skylights in the living room. I turn on the faucet and let the water heat up until it’s steaming. I’ve just shut off the spigot and upended my bowl in the dish drainer when my phone chimes again; the noise is piercing against the silence of the dark house, and it causes me to stumble back in surprise.

The text message is from an unknown number with a local area code:

Hiiii what r u up to

I blink at the display, confused. It’s probably a wrong number – I’ll just ignore it. I wipe my damp hands on my shorts and start out of the kitchen, but then something makes me stop. Instead of rounding the breakfast bar to head back down the hall, I hoist myself up onto the counter and type a message back.

Who is this?

I’ve just about given up on hearing back when the reply comes.

Kyle

Oh. I swallow the lump forming in my throat, completely clueless about what to say next.

Oh hey. Nothin much, you?

There. Poetic.

Why aren’t u at jared minks party

Come to think of it I had heard Jared was throwing a party for those members of our graduating class who’ve made it back to Winnemucca for the summer. Now I can’t remember where… Facebook maybe?

I don’t think I was invited

That’s bullshit. Come over here.

I’m at an impasse. On one hand, this could be the perfect answer to my horridly uneventful evening. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure Kyle is drunk.

I set my phone down on the counter beside me and sit on my hands while staring at the glowing green numbers on the microwave – 11:09 PM. It’s pretty late… Maybe I should just stay in. I didn’t tell Mom I was going anywhere, and I don’t want her to worry.

I pick up my phone and tap out my answer.

Thanks but I’m already settled in for the night

I hesitate before pressing Send. My mind ricochets between staying and going at least a dozen times before I finally jab at the backspace key to erase the text. Screw it – I deserve this. I hold my fingers over the screen, mulling over a reply, but then I think better of it. I’ll just go over there.

I hop down off the counter and walk back to my room as quickly and quietly as I can, before I can change my mind. I go to my closet and begin rifling through hangers in search of something more suitable than the t-shirt and boxers combo I’m currently sporting. Sophie lifts her head as she yawns and regards me stoically before lowering her chin back to her front paws.

My heart is hammering in my chest as I yank on a pair of fitted black Bermuda shorts and a yellow racerback tank top. Walking out of my room, I stop in the bathroom down the hall and let my hair down out of its bun. I wet my fingers and comb them through the mane of tangled waves. Quickly I brush my teeth and dab on some Chapstick before deciding I look as good as I’m going to.

I leave a note on the kitchen table for Mom just in case she gets up and decides to check on me, then head out the door, car keys in hand.

Kyle – Friday, 11:30 PM

The last time I got this plastered was at the Sigma Nu Lifeguard Bros & Surfer Hoes party back in April. Jared’s parents are out of town this weekend, and his older brother Greg kindly supplied the alcohol that’s now sloshing through my bloodstream at a concentration I can guarantee far exceeds the legal limit for operating a vehicle.

Les and I just won the championship round of beer pong, and I’m now taking a much needed timeout on the sectional sofa in the family room amid masses of other sweaty bodies. I look up in time to see Taylor Rich weaving through the crowd toward me, looking hot in a denim miniskirt and tube top. She was in my grade in school; we fucked around some junior year before she started dating Devin Greeley. Word has it they broke up a couple of months ago, and judging from the seductive look she’s giving me I’d say she’s back on the prowl. She’s been batting her eyes at me all night, and now she seems to be zeroing in for the kill.

Hey Kyle, she says as she sits down next to me, so close our thighs touch.

What’s up, Taylor? I say, lifting my ball cap to plow my fingers back through my hair, which is matted to my forehead with perspiration.

That was an impressive game of beer pong, she says, leaning back beside me and propping her elbow on the back of the sofa. She’s gazing at me with half-lidded bedroom eyes as she not-so-subtly pushes her tits forward.

Thanks, I reply, leaning forward slightly, testing the waters. I saw you play earlier. You’re not so bad yourself.

She beams, clearly overjoyed I noticed. Just one of my many talents, she purrs as she flips her hair back over her shoulder. Her body is now angled toward mine in a way that’s just begging for me to touch her. I think back, trying to remember if Taylor was any good at kissing…or anything else. My brain is too muddled to recall much of anything specific, however.

Oh yeah? I say as I move my hand just enough to touch her bare thigh. I lower my voice. I guess I’m the kind of guy who has to see it to believe it. Taylor arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow and leans the rest of the way in, until her face is just a fraction of an inch from mine.

Let me show you then, she says huskily. She offers me a coy smile before rolling her eyes upward, indicating the bedrooms located on the floor above us.

I grin back, questioning whether to stand up and follow her, when suddenly someone calls my name. I glance over Taylor’s shoulder to see Josh Harbaugh standing there holding up a blue plastic cup.

Dude, you’ve gotta try this, he says. "Shit is lethal!" He crashes down next to us on the couch, and Taylor quickly scoots over away from Josh, all but crawling into my lap. A look of disgust mars her meticulously groomed features.

I’m not easily distracted from the prospect of getting some, but Josh’s persistence has me taking the cup from him to try a taste. I’m to a point where all alcohol tastes the same – the only difference with this particular concoction is its immediate effect on my already considerable buzz. For a moment the racket of the music and partygoers around me is replaced by a high-pitched droning in my ears, and everything blurs into a hazy streak of color and light.

As soon as I’ve returned to my senses I hand the cup back to Josh. "Goddamn, what the hell is that?" I ask, using the back of my arm to wipe my mouth.

I know, right?! he exclaims. We need to figure out how to make these.

I open my mouth to disagree with him, but something makes me glance up; I’m surprised to see a familiar face hovering in the doorway. Tawny. My mind spins in reverse – didn’t I text her a while ago? I fumble around in my pocket to pull out my phone, but I don’t see any new text messages. Maybe I’m seeing things…

When I look back up Tawny’s eyes are locked on mine; her poker-faced expression isn’t giving anything away. My mind shifts gears to catch up, and I realize I still have my hand on Taylor’s leg. Meanwhile, Taylor’s eyeing me wearily, her eyes cutting between me and Paul Donahue, who’s leering at her suggestively – he must be my runner-up in terms of conquests for tonight.

Quickly I withdraw my hand and stretch my arms over my head, leaning away from Taylor. Shit, I’m beat, I murmur as if to no one in particular—that’s all it takes for Taylor to shove off the couch and move on to option number two. Unperturbed, I glance back up at Tawny, but she’s no longer looking at me – her attention has shifted to Mason Frye, who appears to be offering her a drink.

I brace my hands on my knees as I rise slowly from the couch, careful not to make any sudden moves. My head is still spinning a little when I take a step forward in their direction.

Tawny looks fucking amazing tonight. Her hair cascades in coppery chestnut waves around her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face. Her shorts ride low on her slender hips, and her tank top is just slightly too short, showing off a ribbon of lightly tanned skin around her waist. She’s standing up perfectly straight, taking on the regal air of a dancer, but she seems almost too rigid. Her hand is wrapped around her purse strap so tightly her knuckles are turning white.

Mason holds up a bottle of Corona, but Tawny shakes her head, granting him an apologetic close-lipped smile. She takes a step backward as if she’s going to turn around and walk away, but I break through the crowd just in time. She freezes when she sees me and bites her lip as she gazes at me questioningly, like she isn’t sure if I’ll recognize her.

Tawny – Friday, 11:45 PM

On the drive here I replayed in my mind the memory of Kyle beaming up at me at Frank’s the other day, and the way he’d asked for my phone number. By the time I parked in the crowded street outside Jared’s house, I’d even gone as far as entertaining the notion that he might have invited me here because he actually liked me in that way. My fantasy was quickly laid to rest, however, the moment I walked in the room and saw him fondling Taylor Rich in the corner nook of the sectional. Now he’s swaggering toward me with a smug grin on his face, and I feel naïve and silly for ever even thinking Kyle might return my feelings.

Even in his clearly intoxicated state he manages to look gorgeous – his disheveled appearance just makes his handsomeness seem that much more off-the-cuff and effortless. He’s wearing a red t-shirt that showcases the muscular curve of his biceps, and his lips are twisted into a diabolical grin as he approaches me.

You came! he says, then startles me by throwing his arms around me and bundling me up against his chest. Mostly he smells like alcohol, but beneath that I can make out the musky fragrance of his deodorant. My head begins to spin, and I slump against him, unwilling to trust my legs to support my full weight.

Kyle pulls back but keeps his hands wrapped around my shoulders. He drops his gaze to my feet, and I watch incredulously as his eyes roam leisurely from my toes all the way back up to my face. When he looks back at me, licking his lips with an appreciative gleam in his light brown eyes, I can feel myself blushing at the same time I’m vaguely offended at his clear display of chauvinism. I swallow, allowing myself a second to calm my nerves, then roll my shoulders back in an air of false confidence. Are you objectifying me, Kyle Freeman? I ask, cocking one eyebrow at him.

For a moment he simply stares at me blankly, but then he lets go of my shoulders and begins to laugh. He laughs so hard I can see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and I draw myself up to my full height and cross my arms over my chest, feeling both annoyed and slightly embarrassed. "What? I say. I’m a lady, not just some piece of meat."

He stops laughing as he wipes the moisture from his eyes, but his smile remains. "Oh trust me, Tawny Read. I may be drunk, but I am perfectly aware you aren’t a piece of meat. He leans closer so his lips are nearly touching my ear and says lowly, You do look beautiful tonight, though. He draws back and winks at me before whirling around and catching my hand in his own. Come on, he says over his shoulder. Let’s get you a drink."

Everything about what just happened has me feeling hopelessly off balance. All I can do is stumble along behind him.

Saturday, 1:45 AM

I think it’s safe to say I’ve never been what you might call a serial partygoer. The sensory overload brought on by the loud music and frenetically disinhibited crowd is almost too much to bear. It’s been two hours since I got here, and honestly I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long. I spent the first hour tripping along after Kyle, who held my hand for almost the entire time we were together. It may sound sweet, but actually it felt a little like I was his kid sister and he was showing me off.

Sometime a little before one Kyle yelled in my ear (I’m pretty sure he thought he was whispering) that he needed to use the bathroom, and I was quickly swept up by Mason Frye and Brandon McIntyre, who roped me into a game of Bullshit with three other people. Up to that point I’d gotten away with nursing the same beer the entire night – each time Kyle asked me if I needed another drink I just lifted my bottle and indicated I’d just gotten one. It seemed to keep him happy anyway.

This, however, was a horse of a different color. How do you only pretend to drink during an actual drinking game? The answer to that is, you can’t. Which is why it’s a blessing I actually rock at this game.

I’ve just managed to kick all their butts while staying pretty well sober myself when Brandon’s girlfriend walks over and sits down in Brandon’s lap. "God, Kyle is so drunk, she says as she sags against him, clearly not too well off herself. I shuffle the deck of cards and pretend not to be interested in what she has to say. He’s basically passed out in the front room," she continues.

Brandon rubs her back as he replies, He’ll be okay. He always pulls through.

Idly I wonder how typical this is for Kyle. Granted, I haven’t seen him in over a year, but in high school he always seemed a touch more dignified, like he was a cut above the hedonistic masses who only lived to party. I’d seen him tipsy a couple of times at football tailgates, but never the sloppy, falling-down drunk other guys in our class tended to favor.

I complete one last shuffle, arching the cards into a bridge and letting them fall back into a neat stack before replacing them in the center of the dining room table. I scoot my chair back and rise to my feet, then stride purposefully into the front room. Since most of the crowd is confined to the back of the house, Kyle is alone, slumped back against the sofa. His hat lies beside him, and his dark hair falls forward over his forehead.

I approach him slowly, feeling a bit gun-shy. As soon as I’m standing over him, I reach out and touch his shoulder. When he doesn’t stir, I begin to panic a little. I try again, squeezing this time, and I stumble backward in surprise and relief when his head jerks up. He looks around, bewildered, before his eyes land on me. For a moment he simply gapes at me, but then his eyelids roll shut again and he hangs his head in his hands.

I lower myself down beside him on the couch. Let’s get you home, okay? I say softly. He nods, and I hold out my hands, offering him a boost. He loops his arm around my neck, and I hook mine around his side, gripping the spot on his flank where his ribs his firm obliques. I grab his hat with my free hand.

It’s slow going helping him out to the white Civic that was a hand-me-down from my sister. I stagger under his weight as I struggle to unlock the door on the passenger side. Kyle is awake, but he isn’t exactly alert.

Once he’s tucked safely inside, I go around to the driver’s side and climb in behind the wheel. I start the engine and shift into reverse, but I wait to speak until I’m pointed south on the road that leads back toward town.

You’ll have to remind me where your house is, I say, glancing over at Kyle. He seems slightly more wakeful now; his elbow is propped up against the window, and he’s using his right hand to massage his temple.

He lets out a drawn-out exhale before he replies. I can’t go back to my house. His voice is gravelly, as if he hasn’t used it in several days. I wait for him to offer some sort of explanation, but he doesn’t. He just continues to stare out the window.

Why not? I ask finally.

I just can’t, he says. His impassive tone isn’t giving anything away.

I chew on the inside of my cheek and tap my thumbs nervously against the steering wheel. Now I have a dilemma… Where do I take him? I can’t let him sleep at my parents’ house – how would I ever explain a drunk person passed out on our sofa?

Unsure what to do, I keep driving – all the way through the deserted streets of the tiny downtown area and on south in the general direction of my house. Just before reaching Water Canyon Road I veer off to the east, down a rutted dirt road I’ve ridden my horse Queenie on more times than I can count. I keep driving until the road dead ends at a concrete abutment facing the Sonoma Mountain Ridge, then shift into park and cut the ignition.

I sit tensed, leaning forward and gazing out at the black expanse of sky – the stars are out in full force tonight, and for a moment their beauty takes my breath away.

A minute later I let my head fall back against the headrest and turn to my right. Kyle has his head tilted back as well, but I can’t tell whether his eyes are open or not. I’ve almost decided he’s fallen asleep when he speaks up.

Thanks for the ride. He doesn’t look at me. His voice is so low I wonder if I even heard him correctly.

I don’t know where to take you, I remind him quietly.

…Silence…

I sigh as I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Leaning back again I allow my mind to drift. I imagine how different this moment might be if I was one of those really confident, sexy girls – the type Kyle typically goes for. Would we be making out right now? Or even…having sex? I shiver at the not-entirely-unpleasant thought, then immediately feel guilty for mentally taking advantage of daydream-Kyle. Doesn’t change the fact I wish I could be that other girl for just one night – if not tonight then someday.

Tawny… The sound of his voice catches me off-guard. I chance a sidelong glance at him – he’s turned toward me now, his eyes burning with something I can’t quite identify. When I twist to face him fully he looks as if he’s full of about a thousand and one things he wants to say. I wait, my breathing shallow and my heart rate rapid.

Finally he clears his throat and says, Sorry – you don’t have to sit here with me like this. I just don’t feel like going home. You can take me to Les’s though.

I twitch my lips to the side, unsure what to think. After a moment I face forward again and turn the key to start the engine.

Saturday, 2:45 AM

The ride to Les’s parents’ house is quiet. They live in a cookie cutter subdivision in the center of town, in a two story American Foursquare with blue vinyl siding. The enormity of Les’s family is evident from the number of vehicles in the driveway – one for each of his parents and four siblings.

I stop on the curb opposite the house and keep the car idling. Do you need any help getting in? I ask.

No, I can make it, he says. He looks at me, then flips my world upside down when he leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

You’re good, Tawny, he whispers. Then he pulls away and slips out