From across the lawn, Minnie catches my eye, then winks and gives a little wave before returning to hearing some joke her friend is telling her, and then the pair of them burst into laughter.
“You look beautiful,” comes a voice from behind, wrapping me up in a pair of smooth, strong arms.
“You’re just saying that because you want to bone me later.”
“That too.”
I turn and face Brant, smiling. He looks cute in his orange-and-blue plaid button-down shirt and distressed jeans. Those particular jeans make me want to grab his ass so badly and so inappropriately in front of all these people.
Suddenly there’s a camera in my face. “Cheese!”
I laugh just as the flash goes off, capturing me in that moment. The camera fails, however, to capture the moment right after: me smacking the shit out of Brant’s shoulder for blinding me.
“You know you love it,” he murmurs, getting right in my face.
He gets away with murder with that beautiful face of his. Really, it just isn’t fair. “I didn’t know you were telling people about your decision to become an official college dropout.”
“I didn’t! I was … ah, crap.” He curses to himself. “It was that damn Dmitri who can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“Are you embarrassed by it?”
“Hell no. College just isn’t for everyone. I’m really glad I came here, don’t get me wrong. I mean, I definitely learned a lot and I had my … fair share of experiences …”
“Experiences,” I echo, using air quotes.
He grabs my arms and pulls me into him, inspiring a guttural laugh from deep within me. “You better watch that adorable mouth of yours before I spank you.”
I lick my lips slowly and deliberately, watching as his face melts before my eyes with all the fantasies and realities of what, exactly, I’m capable of with these lips of mine. I love planting all the dirt in his head and watching as he suffers with it for hours until we’re alone and can do something about it.
“Clayton’s got an instrument room upstairs where he keeps all his lighting equipment,” he whispers.
“Don’t you dare think about it,” I warn him.
“I wouldn’t need very long.”
“Such the charmer.”
“We’ll be back before they cut into the graduation cake. Or the other-other graduation cake. Or before people start getting drunk and making pretentious speeches about the future and this and that.”
“Why don’t I just massage your crotch under the table and get the job over with without going anywhere at all?” I ask, running a hand down his body and hooking it under his belt.
“You’re so bad, Nell.”
“The worst,” I agree.
BRANT
She looks so beautiful. I could stare at her every damn day and it’s like I’m being eaten alive by beauty. Maybe that could be the name of my next photo series: Eaten Alive. All the photos could just be of her, on and on and on.
“Babe, I know everyone’s all busy and they want me to take photos of all of you soon—the graduates, you included, sans me—but I have something I want to show you.”
Nell lifts her eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Is this a euphemism for wanting to show me your big dong in Clayton’s upstairs man cave?”
“Nope.” I reach out my hand. “Come with me, my lady.”
“Mistress of darkness,” she corrects me, to which I laugh. None of my terms of endearment sit well with her, but damn, that one thing I said the night she nearly burned down the End Of Year Showcase, she clings to it like a cliff.
I take her into the house, which is considerably quieter, what with everyone out in the yard, then we go up the curved staircase. There’s a big, beautiful couch by a giant window that overlooks the backyard, and it’s to that couch that I lead her.
I sit down first, then turn her with a little pirouette move before seating her on my lap. She smiles, suppressing a giggle, then hooks her arms around my neck.
“Now what?” she prompts me, curious.
I bring my camera up into her lap, and the screen flashes bright for us both to see. I start scrolling back.
“Showing me the graduation pics from this morning?” she asks me. “What is it? Did you catch Dessie and Clayton behind the curtains or something?”
“Nope.”
She chuckles, then waits patiently as I finally arrive at the correct photos. The moment they show up on the screen, Nell’s face changes. She tilts her head, taken. “Oh. These … These are from …”
“Westwood Light,” I finish for her.
There’s a photo of three of the kids playing with cars, using various stacked books and turned-over building blocks and a shoe as obstacles in their little roadmap.