Beautiful Burn(24)

“Says who?” she laughed as she buttoned her shorts.

“Everyone.”

“Well, I don’t care about everyone. Not wearing undies makes me feel good, so I don’t like to wear undies.”

“Poetic.” I shook my head with a smile. “So is this law? Say for instance you wear a dress, are there panties under there or…?”

“You’re stupid.” She pushed me in the shoulder and then ripped the blanket off my flaccid, but still impressive dick. The night air had me sucking in my breath and doing some sort of desperate man grunt reserved for only those times when the junk was involved, before I tucked it back into my pants.

“You’ve got a mean streak,” I teased, lying back, pants still unbuttoned but dick now fully covered.

“Shut up!” She tossed a pillow at my head. I caught it, hit her with it, then pulled her to me and tucked our bodies together. I stuck my nose in her hair, sucked in deeply, and then we watched the last of the movie.

I nestled down into the comfort of our bodies twined together and smiled. This was good. For once, I was here, I was me. I was living in the moment, living fully, and I was happy. From head to toe, I felt gloriously happy.





eight


“Do you want to come over?” she offered as we stood outside our vehicles after the movie.

“Yeah?” The few smart cells in my body screamed no, but the vast majority were thrilled at the prospect.

She leaned in and brushed her body against mine. “I promise I won’t molest you.”

I shuddered with waves of pleasure from the contact. I only nodded and swallowed before a car pulled out of the drive-in and accelerated as it approached us. My arms dropped from Auburn's waist when I locked eyes with the driver, one of the secretaries in the principal's office. My stomach rolled and my chest throbbed with anxiety.

The secretary gave a slow nod as she passed. “Fuck,” I murmured, taking another step away from Auburn.

Realization dawned as she watched the car getting further away. “Do you know them?”

“You do too, Mrs. Rose.”

“Oh no.” Auburn's eyes slammed to mine in alarm.

“I don't think she saw you.” I hoped she didn’t anyway, all I could do was hope, something I'd been doing much more often the last few months.

Auburn nodded somberly. “Do you still want to come over?”

“More than anything,” I growled, my eyes flaring as the anxiety of almost getting caught melted to desire. I knew every moment I spent with her was a risk, but my desire to take each day as it came and live each moment to the fullest was overpowering. Life had taught me that you couldn't take a single day for granted.

“Good. I promise I'll make it worth your while.” Her face darkened with lust to match my own before she spun on her heel and headed for her car.

I followed her the twenty minutes home through the twisting residential streets of Traverse and then Sutton's Bay. I was surprised to find she lived only a few blocks from downtown -- and me -- in a restored Victorian home split into apartments.

She flicked on the light in the cramped space and my eyes landed on textbooks, clothes, and books. Lots of books. “Holy shit,” I breathed as I stepped over a cluster of shoes to get to the nearest book shelf.

“I’m a collector.” She stopped beside me. My fingertips ran across the bindings -- she clearly loved the written word, her collection nearly matched my own in size and scope. She had the scrappy newsstand paperbacks that we all had, but tucked between were volumes of classic literature, from Edgar Allan Poe to James Joyce. “This is beautiful.” I picked up a first edition of “Walden” by Thoreau. I flipped through a few of the yellowed pages, inhaling the musty smell of vintage paper. “So the romantics, huh?”

“I’m a sucker.” She shrugged. “My dad gave me that when I turned eighteen.” She caressed the worn cover of the book. “He loved to read, I think that's where I got my love of books.”

“Has he read your writing?” I asked, interested in learning more about her.

“No.” She shook her head and turned away. “They want me to get a real job.” She scoffed, but I could see the pain their rejection left.

“I'm sure every famous author's parents said that at some point.”

“Yeah, but…” she paused before averting her eyes.

“But what?” I pushed her to open up to me.

“They won't pay for my college unless I choose a more practical major.” The frown dusting her lips had me wanting to pull her into my arms.

“Ouch.” I placed the old edition back on the shelf.

“It's not such a big deal, I expected to work through college and pay for it any way I could, but when my parents offered to pay for everything free and clear, if I went into law, or medicine, or another suitable career, it was like a punch in the stomach. Even my grandma stopped talking to my dad for a while she was so angry at him.”