Wait… His parents? I’m going to meet his parents? In a week?
“That sounds lovely,” Mom says to Greyston. “Just let us know what time, and we’ll be there.”
With our plans for next Sunday finalized, we decide it’s time to go. Dad and Greyston have a mild debate over who will pay the bill. Ultimately, Dad wins, saying it was him and Mom who invited us out.
It must be hotter outside than I was anticipating when we left the house, because I begin to feel slightly uncomfortable as we walk through the parking lot—almost flushed—and there’s a faint prickle running along my arms and neck. Once I’m buckled in and Dad’s started the car, I roll my window down in hopes that the fresh air will help.
It does a little, but my skin still feels like it’s crawling.
“Juliette?” I turn to look at Greyston. “Are you okay? You’ve been scratching at your neck since the restaurant.”
Mom turns around in her seat, and Dad looks back at us through the rear-view mirror. “Oh? I hadn’t realized. Yeah, I’m fine. I must still be a little hung over.” I move to scratch my neck again, but Greyston grabs my hand and stops me.
He unbuckles his seatbelt with his other hand, scoots across the seat until he’s sitting right next to me, and uses the backs of his fingers to sweep my hair behind my shoulder so he can look. The tips of his fingers trail across my skin, and I smile, remembering how his fingers felt trailing down my neck in the kitchen earlier.
“You look a little red,” he tells me softly. “Like you’re breaking out in a rash.”
“It’s probably from the heat,” I assure him, bringing my hand up and laying it on his. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
He shakes his head and holds my gaze. “It’s not that hot outside, Juliette.”
Curious to see if he’s right, I look at the digital temperature display mounted above the rear-view mirror and see that it’s actually a little on the cool side. Then I realize what probably happened. “My crepe.” Greyston looks at me curiously before he, too, draws the same conclusion as me. “I’ll bet they accidentally put strawberries on it and Mel corrected them. They probably didn’t even replace the crepe, just the bananas.”
“Do we need to stop somewhere, kiddo?” Dad asks.
I shake my head, pulling Greyston’s warm hand away from my neck and threading my fingers through his; it’s not that I don’t enjoy his touch, but the warmth of his hand only makes the itching worse. “No, I’ve got some antihistamines and some hydrocortisone cream in my washroom.” I look out the window, feeling the breeze on my face and neck. “God, this is so embarrassing,” I whisper to myself.
Greyston pulls his hand free and places it on my thigh, giving me a gentle squeeze and redrawing my focus to him. “Hey, don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, I’m worried,” I tell him softly, hoping my parents aren’t eavesdropping. “You think this is how I wanted the afternoon to go?”
“We have all the time in the world,” he assures me, running his hand back and forth over my thigh.
The gesture reawakens my desire for him, sending my pulse racing and my mind whirling. Before I let my growing craving for him take control, I lay my hand over his and stop it from moving before laying my head on his shoulder. “I’m going to need you to stop doing that,” I whisper, tilting my head up and meeting his gaze. “It’s making it hard to concentrate.”
“My apologies.” He doesn’t really look apologetic, what with his sly smirk and mischievous eyes.
I settle back against him and look toward the front of the vehicle. When I catch my dad’s eyes in the rearview mirror once more, he winks at me, and I give Greyston’s hand one more squeeze before turning back to look out the window.
We arrive home a short time later and say goodbye to my parents before heading inside. I have to laugh when Greyston makes a point of locking the door before pulling me into his arms and kissing me softly.
I want nothing more than to pick up where we left off this morning, but the irritating itch that’s covering my arms and neck is far too distracting. “Hey,” I whisper, leaning my head back and looking him in the eye. “I really need to hop in the shower and put my lotion on. I’m sorry.”
His eyes roam down, and he gently pushes my hair away from my neck again. His fingertips tickle the skin below my ear, and I shiver slightly. I desperately want this to be one of those moments between us where I get all weak-kneed and light–headed…
Oh, who am I kidding? Rash or not, Greyston still has that effect on me.