"Oh okay - You want me to play along, I see. What am I thinking about...what am I thinking about...." I tap on my chin, pretending to ponder my answer. "Well, I was thinking about how the jellyfish look like floating ballerinas." I laugh again at his scrunched up expression. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"
"Well, no, actually. That answer
sucked
."
"Did it leave you unfulfilled," I tease.
"Uh
, yeah
it did."
My mom and I always say we're 'unfulfilled' when we spend a whole day shopping and leave a mall without having purchased anything fun. I remember this one time, we spent an
entire
day going to garage sales, and all I spent was six dollars on an old chandelier I spray painted for my bedroom, and two bucks on a pair of jeans. Ugh, did I feel empty inside that day. I chuckle at my own fond memory.
We're quiet for a bit in companionable silence, then I murmur "It's so peaceful here. Thank you for bringing me." I'm tempted to lay my head on his shoulder but can't dig deep enough to gather up the courage. Instead, our eyes stay glued to the blue glowing jellyfish that pulse and float in front of us... up... then down... up...then down... slowly and languishing like a lullaby. Watching them is spell bounding, and I can see how it would be therapeutic.
A person could remain here all day.
Soon, we're back to quietly talking in hushed tones - maybe it's just us, but the atmosphere just makes you want to whisper. We talk about his sister Kendall and he tells me about the sister he lost when she was young, Zoe, who lost a battle to childhood Leukemia almost five years earlier at the tender age of seven. Zoe, the one name tattooed on his arm.
We talk about hockey. Soccer. Travelling. I tell him about my job, and am shocked to discover he's never had one because he's never had the time. He reveals his love of the Harry Potter series (mindless books he doesn't have to think too much about while reading), and I blush and stutter through telling him my favorite genre is teen romance.
How embarrassing.
We sit there while the minutes fly by like we're the only two people in the room, when around the corner comes a young couple. Maybe just a few years older than Weston and I, they slowly walk over to the Moon Jellyfish exhibit and stand directly in front of the tank. Well, directly in front of us, actually. They're both dressed very casually in jeans, but there is chemistry between them that has me guessing they're on a date. Okay, I don't have to guess: it's pretty obvious.
"Really
, that's
where they're going to stand?" Weston deadpans from the side of his mouth, gesturing to the couple with his hand. Because he's almost whispering and there's music filtering through the room, I lean in a little closer to hear what he's saying and catch a whiff of his cologne. My eyes flit to the 'V' of his polo shirt and I glace at the exposed hollow of his throat.
Drool.
"No kidding! What's
that
all about?" I complain. "There's a whole room full of these things. Go over there." I point to a spot further down.
He lets out a sigh. "Well, I suppose we
could
head out. We have been here for over two hours..."
"Plus, there
is
that forty-five minute drive home...." I point out, trying to be helpful.
Weston thinks for a few seconds, and then, "
Or
...we could stop for ice cream?"
"Yes!" Oh shit, did that sound too eager or desperate? "Fantastic idea."
Best. Idea. Ever
.
I knew there was a reason I liked him.
WESTON
"What are you getting?"
I look down into the freezer of ice cream, than back up at the menu board hanging on the back wall behind the counter of the ice cream shop. It's a 50's themed diner with a soda fountain, and the kid behind the counter is wearing a white smock, candy cane stripped shirt and a disposable paper hat. Based on the nametag pinned to his ice cream smock his name is Scott, and now I feel bad for him because he looks like a fucking douchebag. He's probably what, 17? We actually drove almost all the way back to River Glen before stopping so we wouldn't have such a hike after our treat, and technically we're just in the next town over. So now we can take our time.
"I think I know what I want, but ladies first." I plant my elbow on the counter and lean back on it so I'm granted a frontal view as Molly stares up at the menu board, biting her lower lip.
Nonchalantly (at least I think so anyway) I look her up and down. She's got on these high shoes on that tie around her slender ankles and the toes peeking through are painted a bright shade of pink. I was never one for feet, but hers are pretty damn sexy.
"Hmmm..." She hums with indecision. "I'll...have...." Her head tips to the side, and it's so endearing I can't help but smile. She catches me and chides, "Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Stop distracting me." She swipes at me with the back of her hand but misses, eyes still staring up at the menu board and she is still biting her lip.
"How am
I
distracting
you
?" Seriously, inquiring minds want to know because all damn night she's been driving me crazy. In the best possible way of course...
Molly levels me with those bright green eyes, but finds it hard to keep a straight face. She reaches for my forearm and pulls me to a standing position, releasing my arm quickly like she's been burned. It's the first time we've touched - ever - and holy shit, I can still feel the imprint from her fingers lingering on my skin. "Here, since you know what you want, why don't you go first."
Scott, the kid behind the counter has his eyes glued on Molly during this whole playful exchange and I take one step closer to her, marking my territory.
Look away kid. Look away.
"That one's easy: I'll have a turtle sundae. Four scoops of ice cream, extra pecans, extra hot fudge, extra cherries." I slap my palm on the counter for emphasis, and shoot my fingers pointedly at Molly like a gun. "And go."
She raises her eyebrows at me, probably impressed that I eat ice cream like such a boss.
"Give me...the flavor of the day, one scoop, in a chocolate waffle cone." She smiles brightly, pleased with herself for finally having made up her mind.
"Boring...." I fake a yawn, patting my mouth. Molly bumps me playfully with her shoulder. "Let's go sit at that table while we wait for young Scott here to fix our dessert." I'm not proud to admit it, but I give the kid an arrogant smirk before placing my hand on the small of Molly's back and guiding her to a small corner booth, my palm so low on her backside I'm practically stroking her ass.
Any excuse to touch her, right?
MOLLY
"Make him work real hard for that first kiss. Okay. Maybe not
that
hard." - Jenna, totally contradicting herself.
"Well, I guess this is me," I state the obvious as Weston pulls his dad's Hummer into the turnaround in front of my house and cuts the engine. The porch lights shine their soft glow into the cab, and suddenly the air is hotter and the atmosphere is thick with expectation. There is a strip of light shining across his eyes like a mask, but the rest of his face is bathed in shadows. I look over to the garage, inwardly groaning when I see Matt's white Tahoe parked next to my Wrangler.
Shit, shit, double shit
. The lights are on inside the house and I know the longer we sit here, the less time we have before Matt comes busting out of the house to interrogate my date.
I draw in a long breath, then letting it slowly out (in a move learned in yoga class) turning to Weston, who has his arm stretched out with his hand on the back of my headrest. Just the close proximity of that hand - the hand that's not even
doing
anything but
rest
there, for heaven's sake - has my heart fluttering like a butterfly being tossed in the breeze.
Weston glances at the house. "Yeah, I guess this is your stop." His eyes shine and crinkle at the corner, and his lips lift into a smile. The kind of smile that makes me want to lean over and kiss the crooks of his mouth.
I glance down at the large center council placed in between us and frown.
Crap
that's inconvenient: Now I can't get any closer by scooting over. "Walk me to the door?"
WESTON
I jog around to Molly's side of the car to get her door, the whole time wondering if she's the type of girl who kisses on the first date.
God, I hope so
... We walk leisurely up the porch steps, taking them slowly one at a time, neither of us in a hurry to reach the top.
The black jacket Molly had been wearing earlier in the date had since been removed, and her shoulders are smooth and shimmery. "Do you have something on your arms? It looks like... glitter?" I ask.
"Yeah its, uh, body dust. Jenna practically had to hold me down to get it on me." She scoffs with a laugh, running her hands up and down her arms self-consciously. "It's not normally my thing."
"I'm not com
plain
ing..."
"It's edible," she abruptly blurts out, then looks horrified with herself - but I suddenly find this the most fascinating thing she's said all night. Wow, how did I not know this before? Girls have body stuff that you can eat? That's totally weird, and also,
hot
. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that."
"Um, I hate to break it to you Molly, but edible body glitter just became my new favorite thing as of
right
this second."
"Well... then I guess it's my new favorite thing too."
"So I'm wondering...do you think we should just kiss already to break this tension?" I suggest with a good deal of hope in my voice, extending my right hand towards her. Smiling, Molly takes it and steps towards me as I tug, pulling her against me.
MOLLY
With our bodies pressed this close together, it's hard not to notice every solid muscle of Weston's firm body. Resting both my hands on his firm chest I let them roam a little before snaking them unhurriedly around to his back.
I've never in my life felt a guy up before.
But he must like it, because it's earning me a low growl of approval before Weston tips his head down and presses his lips lightly to my forehead... he trails them down to my temple, kissing the delicate skin by my eyes. I let out a long satisfied sigh as he pushes back my hair with his large hand, the contact with my bare skin sends a ripple of electricity down my spine and I shiver. Weston leans back to look in my eyes, then grinning, continues lavishing kisses near my ear, nipping at my lobe with his teeth.
My eyes flutter closed as his tongue licks the side of my neck, his mouth searing my collarbone. He lets out an "Mmmm..." and in my drunk like stupor vow to thank Jenna later for the vanilla flavored body dust.
She would absolutely kill me right now for not playing hard to get...
Make him work for it
then leave him wanting it
, she had told me no less than ten times. And it's hard to forget you're standing on your parents' front porch with lights shining on you when you have the hot breath on your body making you insane for more.
I can't even remember what
state
we live in.
Weston is inhaling the scent of my almond shampoo while running his fingertips up and down my back, settling them on my sides and flexing his fingers before pressing them into my hips. "You're so beautiful," he whispers.
I know he's trying to control himself, but all of his feather-light touching makes me want to drag him into the bushes like a caveman and rip off his clothes.
I'm ten seconds from actually doing it, too.
Tipping my head to give him better access to my neck, our breathing becomes labored as his warm lips trail kisses down the side of my neck. I can't take it anymore: I have waited too long to feel his lips pressed against mine and I'm not waiting a second longer. "
Kiss me
," I demand almost incoherently under the porch light, tipping my chin up so he can easily find my mouth.
"God you're so fucking hot," he groans out just before his lips touch mine. His tongue flicks the corner of my mouth before sucking on my bottom lip. I immediately open my mouth and he slides his tongue in, no preamble or dancing around it.
Our kiss is scorching hot and wet and sloppy.
He could droop all over me and I wouldn't care.
Heaven.
Bliss.
It's perfect.
He's
perfect.
My hands wander up his broad muscular back, and I trail my index fingers up his spine until I reach the collar of his shirt. Instead of running my fingers through his hair, I tease the back of his neck by lightly drawing circles with my nails.
It must be driving him wild, because Weston's hands both grab my ass and pull me firmly against his crotch.
Every cell in
every
inch of my body is tingling
. I am on fire
. I wouldn't be surprised if my hair was sticking straight up - I am positively vibrating. I can't get enough of him and I let him know by moaning loudly into his mouth like a wanton trollop. All the values I've ever been taught about acting like a lady fly out the window as Weston mutters my name in response against my lips.
Molly...Molly
...
In the back recesses of my mind, I hear voices.
Voices I chose to ignore.
That is, until the front door flies open and my brother yanks Weston back by the collar of his shirt and pushes him against the side of the house.
"You little fucker, get your goddamn hands off my sister." Matt angrily demands. Besides being absolutely humiliated, I can't read the expression on Weston's face but I'm praying that he doesn't take a swing at my brother: these hockey guys love nothing than to beat the shit out of each other, and right now they're sizing each other up... Matt's hands are clenched at his side, and he looks like he wants to punch Weston square between his eyes.
Although to be honest, Weston looks a little 'out of it' and I doubt he'd be of any use in a fight... He looks a little too turned on right now.