by Lulu Pratt
Even if I didn’t have a near-constant reminder in the back of my mind of how good our one time having sex was — even if it was in my parents’ bathroom — it would be impossible not to notice her. She’s wearing a little black dress with a hem that’s a couple of inches above her knee. There’s not much cleavage, but I don’t need that to remember how great her tits look, anyway. The thought of ripping the dress off her and having her again keeps floating through my mind, and I can barely stand it.
We all sit down except for Nadine, who goes into the kitchen to get whatever she’s bringing out first. It looks like the inside of some restaurant that would cost an entire paycheck to eat at, four plates on the table in front of me, two bowls off to the side, three different glasses. The whole nine yards.
“Nadine, I think you may have lost your mind,” Mom says, just as Harper’s mom comes out of the kitchen with a tray in her hands. There’s a bottle of wine, and six cocktail glasses with four shrimp each and two sauces.
“Shrimp cocktail, classically served with both aioli and cocktail sauce,” Nadine says. She begins setting down the cocktail glasses on each of our top plates, and hands the wine bottle to Marshall to open.
I swear she nearly drops my cocktail glass on top of me, on purpose, before breezing on back to her own chair. Harper gives me a quick look. Whatever is on Nadine’s mind, she obviously is not my biggest fan right now.
“To start off the festivities the right way, Nadine and I chose a Prosecco,” Marshall explains, and for once in my life I feel like alcohol might not be the solution to an awkward situation but might actually just make it worse.
Hopefully there won’t be enough for all of us to get drunk, because from the way Nadine is already acting, she doesn’t need any of her inhibitions lowered.
“So, Zane, have you thought anymore about reenlisting?” I look at Nadine as she asks the question and for a second, I hate her. I can see the look in her eyes. It’s like she wants me to hurt her daughter, like she wants me to say the wrong thing, even if I’m not even sure what the right thing would be, and make Harper hate me for good.
“I’m still thinking about it,” I say.
“Zane’s got plenty of time to figure it out. He doesn’t have to make up his mind for a few months yet,” Mom says, and I can’t help but be grateful.
“You know, I’ve heard that more and more women are joining the military,” Nadine says as Marshall starts pouring wine into everyone’s glasses.
“Lots of opportunity for women these days,” Marshall comments, and I want to kick him.
“Oh yeah, tons of opportunities for women,” Nadine says, and she gives me another one of those looks.
“I have a lot of respect for the women I work alongside,” I say, knowing I have to do something to put a stop to this. After all her hard work, is Harper’s mom seriously trying to wreck my parents’ anniversary dinner at her house?
“Who was that girl you brought home with you that last time you were in town, Zane? Tracy?”
I close my eyes for a second. I’d brought Tracy home with me mostly because she didn’t have family of her own to see around the holidays. We had been involved on a strictly casual basis before and after that, though she’d already transferred off-base months before the time my parents’ anniversary came around.
“Yeah, Tracy. She’s actually gone on to an assignment in Germany,” I say, hoping that will keep Nadine from coming up with some way to get in a dig at me.
“That’s one thing I would never be able to deal with, in the army, the fact that at almost any time they could ship you off overseas, and your loved ones have to sort of let you go,” Nadine says.
“Fortunately, this close to the end of his tour, that’s not a real risk for Zane,” Mom cuts in, and I try to eat my shrimp cocktail and drink some of the sparkling wine for a few moments.
Marshall and my dad are both doing their part to keep things going, and I don’t know if Harper’s dad knows about the situation, but he’s a champ for it. They’re talking about how perfect the shrimp is, and how good both the sauces are.
Harper is quieter than I’ve ever seen her, eating little bites of her shrimp with the different sauces, taking tiny sips of her wine. This is going to be the longest fucking dinner of my life, I think, and hope that we can both get through it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
HARPER POLSEN
As we go from the appetizer to the soup course, I can’t think of a time when I’ve felt less like eating. But all I can do, the only way I can hope to get through this God-forsaken meal, is to keep eating as quietly as possible while Mom takes it upon herself to needle Zane and me both.
The potato-leek soup should be delicious, but all I can do is keep my eyes either straight ahead or on my bowl and reply when someone asks me a question. I can barely even taste what I’m putting in my mouth, and I hate that fact.
“I’ll get the next course, Mom,” I say quickly, hoping against hope that I can remind her of why we’re even having this dinner.
“That’s okay, sweetie,” Mom counters.
“No, no, I insist,” I say firmly, getting up from my chair and putting aside my napkin, moving towards the kitchen before she can come up with some reason for me to have to stay in my seat. My stomach is in knots, my heart is pounding. I’m actually getting angry at my mom for how petty she’s being.
I take a deep breath. Mom has, at least, set everything up in the kitchen so she wouldn’t have to leave the table for more than a couple of minutes. I’d seen her taking the roast duck breast out of the oven ten minutes before the Lewises were due to arrive, and she’d made the gravy from the pan drippings as the final touch. You would think after going all out like that, the last thing she’d want would be to screw it up.
I get the third-course tray, which has individual portions of steak tartare that Mom painstakingly made, along with a bottle of Beaujolais, and carefully pick it up to bring it to the table. The second dish that I’d hardly tasted, the soup course, seems to slosh around in my stomach.
“So, Harper, you’ll be going back to the city tomorrow, to that big project of yours,” Bev says as I come out into the dining room with the tray. I hand Dad the bottle of wine and begin putting the little portions of raw steak, egg, herbs and sauce in front of each person. I hadn’t counted on how difficult it would be when I came to Zane.
“Yeah, I am actually really excited to get back into the city,” I say, trying to cover any awkwardness between me and my neighbor’s son.
“I think Harper has had enough of her vacation,” Mom says.
“Oh? Haven’t you had fun, Harper?” Dad doesn’t know that he’s not helping, not in the slightest, but it’s hard not to feel everyone’s eyes on me.
“I’ve had plenty of fun and relaxation,” I say, finally sitting down with my own plate of tartare while Dad uncorks the red wine to serve the rest of us. There’s another bottle of wine to go with the duck that will come next, and there’s a fourth bottle that’s supposed to go with the salad and the dessert, and even though Dad’s not pouring anyone more than about half a glass of wine per course, I can already feel it adding up.
I pick at my steak tartare and sip my wine, and Mom has obviously decided to start pestering me instead of Zane.
“So, Harper, I know you can’t discuss the big project much, but it seems like it’s going to limit your ability to have a personal life,” Mom says.
“No more and no less than ever,” I counter, giving her a tight smile. I look across the table to where Zane sits.
“I think Harper needs someone to shake her up, to give her life a little excitement,” Bev says.
“I think Harper’s running her life fine on her own,” Zane says.
I turn to look at him, and I’m not sure what it is he’s trying to say, there’s something and nothing in it, all at once. On my own? Does he mean that he doesn’t want to be involved with me, doesn’t want to “add excitement” to my life, or does he mean that M
om needs to butt out?
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. I manage to eat a few forkfuls of the steak tartare spread on some of the buttered brown bread that Mom set it up with, but the richness of it is too much for me after that, especially with the way my stomach is rolling and twisting inside of me.
“I think both Nadine and I would like to see the two of you settled in life,” Bev says, and I glance from my mom to Bev and back again. I have nothing to say to that. I don’t even know if Bev knows, and either approves or not or doesn’t care.
“I think Zane and I both have good lives right now,” I say.
“They’re still young. It isn’t like when we were their age,” Dad points out.
“Why don’t we talk about the four of you? I mean, when are we going to start planning your and Dad’s anniversary, Mom?” I say it with a smile.
“Well, first we’ll have to figure out if you’re both going to be available for the festivities,” Mom tells me, returning my smile. I’m not sure if I’m more frustrated with her or Zane, or the whole situation.
“This anniversary stuff doesn’t make you yearn for a little romance?” Bev looks at me.
“Are we all just about done with the third course? I’ll gather up the plates,” Dad chimes in, and I’m relieved and worried at the same time. There are three more courses to go.
Dad gets up and collects our plates, and I have to sit there, waiting to see if Mom is going to needle one of us again. I feel absolutely on edge, and I can’t really do anything about it. I try to keep going, try to keep myself civil while either her or Zane or anyone end up saying something on accident that makes me even more frustrated or irritable.
I barely enjoy the duck, but Bev loves it, which I guess is mostly the point. But by the time the dinner is over and we’re all sitting in the living room drinking coffee, even the mild buzz from the wine isn’t enough to make me feel even remotely at ease. You’ll be home again tomorrow evening, I tell myself. Zane is leaving tomorrow morning. Just get through tonight. But I know that even if I manage to get through the dinner without causing some kind of upset, I am not going to get any sleep.
I just want to be miles away from where I am right now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ZANE LEWIS
I look around my room, at my suitcase, out the window, anywhere and everywhere. I’m leaving in the morning, super early. Early enough that I told Mom not to even bother getting up to say goodbye to me, even though I know she’ll do it. I just can’t seem to get comfortable, can’t seem to settle my nerves, after the fancy dinner with Harper’s parents.
We’d agreed to put everything to the side, to put off talking about it, but that obviously wasn’t an answer to what was going on. It wasn’t helping a damn thing, and that dinner had been the most hellish meal I’ve ever attended in my entire life. I have to think Harper feels the same way.
I look around again and see my phone, plugged into the charger cable. Only one thing to do, or at least try to do, and hope there’s something that can come out of this. I send Harper a message.
Hey. Feel like hitting up the lake again?
She responds almost instantly.
I need to get out of this house, that much I know.
I know the feeling. Anywhere else I can think of meeting Harper at seems too close to her mom or my dad. Besides, two of the most important things about this week happened there. It was a good place.
I slip my phone into my pocket, grab the keys to my rental, and before I know it, I’m sneaking downstairs the same way I used to do when I was a teenager. I have to smile to myself at that, even as I reach the bottom of the stairs and hear my mom, asleep on the couch, stop mid-snore.
I manage to make it through the front door, get in my rental car, and pull out, with the lights off, before turning onto the street, headed for the lake. I’m not even looking to see if Harper has gone. I can only hope that she has managed to leave. Might be the first time she’s ever pulled the sneak-out routine in her life, I think with a smirk.
Technically, it’s against the law to be at the lake after dark, there are signs posted outside of the parking lot saying that trespassers will be fined. I turn in anyway, and look around to make sure there aren’t any cops hanging out. Of course, it’s not the most popular night of the week for people to go skinny dipping, and anyway the teenagers who would be the most likely to go to the lake late at night are in school still.
I shut off the engine and get out of the car, and all I can do is wait. I have less than twelve hours before I have to be at the airport, and I can’t let things stay up in the air with her.
We both need to figure out what’s going on between us.
Just when I’m starting to think that I’m out of my mind, that she decided not to come, I see headlights. Harper’s car appears under the safety lamps scattered around the little parking area next to the lake. I walk over to her car and stand there. She gets out but doesn’t say anything. For a few minutes neither of us speaks. We’re just sort of staring at each other.
“So, what are we going to do, Harper?”
Harper isn’t in the black dress anymore, instead, she’s in a pair of cotton pants and a T-shirt, but I can’t shake the image of her in it from earlier in the night.
“Obviously we have to do something,” Harper says, and she makes a face.
“What do you want to do?” I ask her.
Harper raises an eyebrow. “It’s going to sound absolutely insane, but I keep thinking about you, and about us being interrupted by Mom, and how much of a jerk she was about things… and how much I wish we’d done more. Maybe we’d have a better idea about whether this could go anywhere.”
It’s like lighting a match and dropping it into dry tinder. Just the fact that Harper is thinking about me, about wanting me, is enough to bring every thought I’ve been trying to push out of my mind since we last had sex right up to the fore once again.
“You’re sure about that?” I feel the heat building up along my groin, but I know better than to make a move without making sure that Harper’s not messing with me.
“I’m sure I want to,” Harper says, looking at me.
I take her by the hand and steer her away from the parking lot, towards the lake itself, stopping just short of the shore. I wrap my arms around her and lean in, and Harper pushes herself up onto the balls of her feet to kiss me as I’m trying to kiss her back. I start off slow. I want to give her plenty of opportunity to tell me to stop, to change her mind, but eventually I can’t help myself anymore.
I pull her down onto the grass with me, and we’re going at it hot and heavy in moments, like we did in my parents’ bathroom. We’re touching each other everywhere, hands slipping up under each other’s clothes. All I can think about was how fucking good Harper felt and how much I’ve wanted more ever since then. Even when we were talking about how we weren’t ever going to do it again, even when we were arguing or talking about putting everything on hold between us.
I pull back from the kiss, and Harper’s on top of me, like she was in the bathroom, but we’re both still mostly clothed.
“Are we really going to do this?” I ask.
“We may not get another chance,” Harper points out, her voice breathless. I can see the way she’s flushed, the pink in her cheeks. Her nipples are straining at the fabric of her T-shirt, and I know now there’s no bra underneath it.
“God, I want you, Harper,” I say, guiding her hand down to my crotch.
She gives me a squeeze through my pants and the throbbing, fiery ache there intensifies into a mixture of pleasure and pain that makes it almost impossible to think.
“Then let’s do it,” Harper tells me.
“Only if you promise not to get pissed at me afterwards,” I counter.
Harper laughs.
“I will only be pissed if you got me all turned on like this only to back out of it,” she says.
I kiss her again and reach do
wn to find the hem of her T-shirt, haul it up along her back and over her head. I’ve been thinking about Harper’s heavy, full tits almost nonstop for days, since I saw her naked, and even more since we had sex.
She peels off my shirt, and then somehow we’re down to nothing at all without me even knowing how it happened. I tumble Harper onto her back and cover her body with mine. I know I’ve reached the point of no return. Unless she tells me to stop, unless she doesn’t want it anymore, I can’t hold back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
HARPER POLSEN
I don’t know what I was expecting when I agreed to meet up with Zane at the lake, but as more and more of our clothes begin to come off, it doesn’t seem to matter what I was expecting, all that matters is that I want more. All I can think of is how much I want to feel Zane inside of me again, and to be able to really, truly take our time and enjoy it.
Zane’s lips shift down from my mouth and to my neck, and I shiver against him as he nips at the sensitive spot just under my jaw, where I can feel my pulse fluttering. From there he drops to my collarbones and my breasts. I reach down between us, groping until my fingers find the hot, hard length of his cock. I can’t help but giggle breathlessly as my hand wrapping around Zane’s erection makes him moan, one of my nipples caught between his lips.
He moves from one breast to the other, worshipping me with his mouth, sucking and licking until I’m so wet I can feel my fluids along my inner thighs. I start stroking him more confidently, thinking not for the first time about how amazing it is that he was able to fit inside of me at all. I’m not a virgin, but I haven’t been with more than a few guys, and Zane makes the rest of them seem small by comparison.
“God, you’re so hot, Harper,” Zane murmurs against my skin. I gasp as I feel his fingers sliding along my folds.
