The Goal (Off-Campus #4)(26)
He squawks in outrage. “You were wiping bottoms! I was killing human beings!”
I bite my lip to stop from laughing, even though this isn’t a particularly funny conversation. Maybe the wine has gone to my head.
“Now, now,” Tucker drawls. “Hiram, my man, your wife is gorgeous and obviously devoted to you. And Doris, Hiram here fought for his country to keep you and your children safe—think of how much he must love you for him to have done that. So let’s not fight, huh? Why don’t we just focus on painting this nice fellow over there and doing justice to his equipment?”
Fitzy snorts from the other side of Carin.
So does Hiram, whose voice becomes gruff as he addresses his wife. “I’m sorry, Dorrie. You’re right—this was a lovely idea.”
“And you were very brave in the war,” she says magnanimously.
Hiram leans over and pats Tucker on the shoulder. “All right. Show me that shadow trick.”
My heart melts as I watch Tucker help the older man. Doris, meanwhile, is blushing prettily, probably thinking about how he called her gorgeous before.
“I like you, kid,” Hiram tells my date.
Yeah. I like him too.
*
Tucker
We’re all feeling stupid and giddy when we troop out of the bar with our wrapped-up canvases tucked under our arms. Well, except for Fitzy—our instructor made him leave his masterpiece behind so she could show it to future classes.
Outside, the air is frigid, but that doesn’t stop Hiram from saying, “I saw an ice cream parlor down the road. Let’s check if it’s still open.”
And yup, our double date has turned into a triple date and suddenly we’re going out for ice cream with an old war vet and his sweet-as-molasses wife.
I hold Sabrina’s hand as we amble down the sidewalk. I honestly didn’t expect to have this much fun tonight. I mean, a painting class? There are a million—dirtier—things I would’ve rather done, but this wasn’t bad at all. Even Fitzy has laughed more times tonight than I’ve ever heard in the past.
The ice cream place is just closing when we arrive, but the kid who’s about to lock the door takes pity on us and opens the cash register. Thanking him profusely, we order waffle cones and then head back to the bar parking lot.
Now that they’re no longer bickering, Hiram and Doris regale us with stories about their forty-six years together. They’ve lived through some pretty harrowing times, but I’m more interested in the happy memories they describe.
Forty-six years. It’s fucking surreal to think of being with someone for that long. Am I totally nuts for wanting that?
Sabrina seems equally mesmerized by their tales, and when the elderly couple climbs into their little car and drives off, she seems genuinely disappointed to see them go.
“We’re going to finish our ice cream in my car,” Carin announces, and there’s nothing stealthy about the way she says it. With a mischievous smile, she tugs on Fitzy’s hand and drags him toward the blue hatchback parked across the lot.
He glances over his shoulder and grins at me.
“They’re totally going to hook up,” Sabrina says.
“Yup.”
I drag her toward my own vehicle. Once we’re settled in the front seat, I flick the ignition and blast the heat. Ice cream was probably a bad idea—Sabrina is visibly shivering as we wait for the truck to warm up.
“So,” I say.
“So.”
“That was entertaining.”
“Which part? When the Red Sox guy painted ants for pubes? Or when Hiram and Doris described what it was like to live through the boob job craze in the eighties?”
“Holy fuck. When she said she’d considered getting her ‘bosom done’?”
“Oh my God. I died!” Sabrina is in stitches beside me, the sound of her high-pitched giggles bringing a rush of warmth to my chest.
Damn. I really like this girl. She’s…incredible. She’s not the ice queen Dean insists that she is, not in the slightest. She’s smart and funny and caring and—
And I might be falling for her.
My laughter dies off.
“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asks immediately.
“Nothing,” I lie. It’s either that or tell her what I’m thinking about, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to hear it.
I don’t even want to imagine what her response would be if I admitted that I’m falling for her. We’ve fucked twice and gone on one date. It’s way too early to bring the L-word into the conversation.
“You sure?” She sounds concerned. “You got a really deep crease right…here.” She smooths two fingers over my forehead.
“Naah, I’m good.” I shift in my seat and ease closer to her. “I’m having a great time.”
“Me too.” Her bottom lip pokes out a bit. “I wish…”
“You wish what?”
She sighs. “I wish we could go back to my place, but I’ve got to be up at four in the morning. This isn’t a good night for me to be up late.”
“Same. I’ve got practice at seven.”
“So no sex,” she says glumly.
“Not unless you want to get it on in the truck again.”
Interest flickers in her dark eyes before fading to resignation. “Tempting, but I’d feel weird having sex when Carin is like ten feet away.”
“I’m pretty sure Carin isn’t paying any attention to us right now.”
Sabrina shakes her head. “Trust me, they won’t be in there for long. She has a strict no-sex-on-the-first-date rule. Fitzy’s only going to get a make-out session.” She snickers. “And probably blue balls.”
“What about me? Are my balls gonna hate me when I get home?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” Then she slides over the console and kisses me.
When her tongue swirls seductively over mine, it sends a bolt of lust to my balls. I groan against her soft lips. “Yeah,” I croak. “I’ll definitely be icing the boys tonight.”
“Aw. You poor baby,” she whispers, then proceeds to torture me with hungry kisses and the lazy glide of her palm over my crotch.
We make out for a while, neither of us anxious to take it further. But it’s still hot as hell. The windows of my truck fog up, and I’m hard as a goal post by the time we break apart.
“I should get home,” she says regretfully.
I nod, offering a wry smile. “Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who knocks on their window?”
It turns out to be unnecessary, because suddenly there’s a knock on my window. I roll it down to find Carin’s flushed face peering down at me. Her lips are swollen, her hair a tangle of red curls.
“Sorry,” she says with a sheepish shrug. “But B said she needed to leave by ten-thirty. It’s past that already.”
Very, very reluctantly, I slide out of the pickup and then hurry around to Sabrina’s door to open it for her. Her expression is as reluctant as mine.
A tousled-haired Fitzy is leaning against the side of my truck, and Carin smacks his ass as she makes her way back to her car.
“We’ll do this again?” I murmur to Sabrina.
“Naked paint night? I don’t know. Once might be enough.”
“Another date,” I correct. “You’ll call me when you have some free time?”
I half expect an argument, but she simply lifts up on her tiptoes, kisses me on the lips, and pulls back to say, “Absolutely.”
15
Tucker
December
Me: I miss u
Her: I miss u 2
Me: Any chance we can change that by meeting up? I’ll bring my dick…
Her: LMAO isn’t that sort of a given? U 2 are a package deal
Me: Package is the right word. A really big package ;)
Okay, so I’m laying it on pretty thick, but damn, I miss this girl. I haven’t seen her in a week, which is about, oh, seven days too long. Since our double date last month, we’ve tried to see each other at least two or three times a week. With our hectic schedules, it’s a miracle we’ve managed to find the time, so it was bound to happen that our schedules would catch up to us.
These past two weeks, we’ve both been busy with school. I’ve had some brutal practices and games, and then Thanksgiving rolled around and I’d already committed to spending the holiday with Hollis and his family. I was tempted to bail and see Sabrina instead, but she was working and admitted she’d rather I didn’t hang around at the strip club while she waited tables. Apparently Boots & Chutes is Bummer Central during holidays.
I’m dying to see her, so when I read her next message, I do a mental fist pump.
Her: If u don’t mind the drive, come to Boston 2nite? Working on my Con Law paper, but I can take a bunch of breaks if u wanna keep me company.
I don’t even hesitate.
Me: On my way.
I already showered and changed in anticipation of possibly seeing her tonight. I hurry downstairs, hoping to slip out of the house unnoticed.
“Tuck, get in here! We need a grown-up’s opinion.”
Damn. So close.
I follow Garrett’s voice to the living room, where I find him and Hannah on the armchair. She’s in his lap, he’s got his arms around her, and they look so happy and at ease that I feel a pang of envy. They’re not alone, though. Logan, Fitzy and Logan’s friend Morris are on the couch, video game controllers in their hands. The first-person shooting game they’re playing is paused on the flat screen.