“I think I’ve got it under control,” Bev replies. “Besides, aren’t you bringing something too?”
“We’re going to make a couple of things,” I say. “That yogurt dip everyone likes and Mom talked me into making pasta salad.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” Zane says, giving me a little look that I might have thought was flirty coming from anyone else. “Five years out of high school and you’ve become the perfect woman.”
“She works too much for that,” Mom counters. “Never goes out, always staying up late on some project.”
“That’s because she hasn’t found a guy to sweep her off her feet yet,” Bev says. “Besides, nothing wrong with a woman who isn’t afraid of a little hard work. Most men are hard work.” She gives Zane a nudge. “If this one ever finds someone willing to put up with his crap, I will get down on my knees and worship her as a saint.”
“I thought you army types got married young,” I tell Zane.
“Some do,” he admits. “The rest of us enjoy being footloose and fancy free for a while.”
“Neither of our children is ever going to give us grandkids,” Bev tells my mom with a sigh. “Maybe we should pool money and adopt a grandchild.”
I roll my eyes and Zane does too. “Haven’t you heard? Our generation in general is having kids later,” I point out. “It isn’t that you won’t get grandkids, it’s that it’s not financially feasible for us to give them to you until we’re over thirty.”
“You tell ‘em,” Zane says.
“All right, all right,” Bev says. “I can wait a few more years to have grandkids. But if neither of you are married in five years, we’re going to get you both green card spouses.”
“Besides, how do either of you expect to get to twenty-five years of marriage if you don’t get started until you’re over thirty?” My mom asks.
“As proud of you as I’m sure both of us are,” I say, “I don’t know if I can even imagine being married for twenty-five years.”
CHAPTER SIX
ZANE LEWIS
It’s about an hour and a half before the party, and everything for it is finally just about done. Mom has left the kitchen to get changed. Dad’s sitting in the living room waiting for people while watching a recap of the last football game. Harper and Nadine have even gone home. All I have left to do is to take a shower, put on some of my better clothes and present myself.
I strip out of my sweaty T-shirt and jeans, kick off my shoes and grab a towel from the closet before I head to the shower. The house looks great, I can’t deny that. It’s nice to know I won’t be on duty for another several days and good to see Harper again too. I take off my boxers in the bathroom and kick them onto the floor, starting the water in the shower and giving it a chance to warm up before I step in. Really, really good to see her again.
I grin to myself as I step over the ledge and let the water rain down on me. Before I’d left to start basic, Harper had still had that school nerd vibe down. All she was missing was glasses and one of those grandma sweaters to look like the campus librarian.
I lather up and start scrubbing down, and I can’t help thinking about Harper a little more. If it weren’t for the fact that we lived next door to each other our entire lives, I don’t think we would have hung out at all in high school. We didn’t hang out that much anyway, at least not at school. I was busy with my buds, and Harper was busy doing all that extra-curricular stuff like honor society and drama club and whatever else it was she was doing.
But this new Harper, the grown woman she’d become, was actually kind of cool. Living in the city, looking really good, with a good job. How the hell is she not with someone? I rinse myself off and get started on washing my hair, thinking about the question.
I remember Harper’s mom and mine teasing her about being old before her time and joking about her lack of social life. It really isn’t all that surprising, when I think about it. Thinking about Harper makes me start to get hard, and I turn the water on cold for a quick blast. What’s wrong with me, thinking like that?
I get out of the shower quickly before I can be tempted to indulge myself, and dry off and go back to my room. I look out through the window and catch sight of just a second of Harper moving past her own window. She’s got a bra and panties on, her hair done, but other than that she’s undressed and unaware that she’s being watched.
I turn my back on the window, close the blinds and start getting dressed. I force myself to stop thinking about her like that. It’s not a formal event, so I decide to wear a pair of khakis and a dress shirt. I put on a pair of socks and my dress shoes, check to make sure my hair looks all right, and I’m done.