Kissing In Cars

by Sara Ney

  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?

  Chapter Fourteen

  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 complaining..."

  "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.

  Matt turns to me with his hands in the air. "What the fuck Molly?"

  I roll my eyes at him. "Go inside the house, Matt. You are being ridiculous."

  "You're out here practically humping this prick on Dad and Mom's porch and you're calling me ridiculous?" His face is flush and slowly begins to match his auburn hair. I always thought Matt was a big guy, but actually now that they're standing side by side, he's no larger than Weston.

  Before I can respond Weston cuts in, stepping in front of me in a defensive move. "Okay man, that was totally uncalled for. We might have gotten a little carried away, but-"

  Matt cuts him off, spitting mad - almost like he can't believe Weston has the balls to talk to him. "Who the fuck are you, anyways? Some hockey punk who's probably banging anything with a slit? I'm one of you," he thumps his chest with his fist. "I know how it works, and I don't want you near my sister."

  "Jeez Matt, can you watch your mouth? You're such an asshole." I shove him in the chest before crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him. It's taking all my willpower not to call into the house for my dad. "You know what Matt? Weston is a really nice guy and as far as I'm aware, you're the only man-whore standing on this porch."

  Here's the problem with these hockey players: they have to be very intuitive to be champions at the sport, and I know that even though they're both watching me, they've got their instincts honed in on each other.

  "Can I just say something here?" Weston interrupts the evil glares Matt and I are giving each other. I groan.

  "This better be damn good," Matt grumbles through clenched teeth.

  "It's just... dude. I'm a huge fan."

  Chapter Fifteen

  WESTON

  "My parents said we could be anything we wanted to be when we grew up. So Matthew became an asshole." - Molly

  For a minute, Matthew Wakefield just stares back at me with the same green eyes (albeit angrier) as his sister, the blood rushing back to his face. His shaggy disheveled hair is in his eyes, but even so, just from the way he's looking at me I can tell he's trying to decide if I'm being serious, or if I'm being a sarcastic little prick. A little bit of both actually, but one thing is for sure: two seconds ago he was ready to sucker punch me - I'd bet my left nut on that.

  Matthew crosses his arms across his broad chest and doesn't respond.

  "Yeah, sooo... I was at the game against Duke last year - that had to have been one of your best career games to date. That goal against Kuznetsov was one for the records books."

  Matt purses his lips, but it's obvious the ego trip is softening his resolve because his feet shift and he hasn't hit me yet. Again, Molly groans, "Oh brother..."

  "What did you say your name was?" Matt asks narrowing his eyes.

  "McGrath. Weston." Before I can stop myself, my hand shoots out. "Good to meet you."

  "I'm sure it is." He says with a sneer, and doesn't move an inch. Doesn't take my hand.

  Molly was right: Matt is an asshole.

  "Matthew!" Molly shouts. "Oh my god, don't be so rude." She stands next to me and grabs the hand I have extended, her warm body sidling up against mine. Matt looks down at our clasped hands and his wall goes back up.

  Finally, he says "I might have heard of you kid. Must suck dick being compared to... me all the time."

  Slowly, I nod. "Yeah but that on
ly lasted my freshman year. That one year was all it took to break your high scoring record." I plaster a smug look on my face knowing I just royally pissed him off.

  Matthew laughs with his head thrown back. "No fucking way you broke my record."

  "Well, no you're right. I didn't break it. I decimated it." Now it's my turn to laugh.

  "You little fucker," Molly's brother says, fists clenched at his sides. He takes a step forward.

  "Hardly little, but...go on."

  "STOP!" Molly shouts, pulling me by the hand towards the porch steps and pointing an angry finger at her dipshit brother. Wow, she is pissed. "Weston, you are leaving. Matt, get inside and find a good place to hide because when I come back in, I'm going to murder you for ruining my night."

  MOLLY

  As I'm stalking across the turnaround dragging Weston behind me, my freaking brother is standing on the front porch shouting "Don't think you're going to stand out there making out by your sex machine McGrath. Are you listening? I'm watching you!"

  Ugh, what an idiot.

  I see my mom open the front door and drag him inside as he struggles against her grip. Sheesh, what the hell mom? It sure took her long enough to get that maniac out of my business. I'll have to thank her tomorrow one more time for telling Matt about my date in the first place.

  I drag Weston behind the Hummer and thank god the driver's side door is away from the house, cloaked in the dark shadow of the truck. I shove him up against the huge black vehicle before giving his arm a good smack, grateful for the fact that no one can see us.

  "What is wrong with you two?" I hiss as he shrugs with a lazy grin on his face. "That wasn't a pissing contest."

  "Come here." he says quietly, the low timbre of his voice in the dark making my stomach flip-flop. Leaning up against his dad's shiny truck with his legs spread wide, Weston pats his hard thighs inviting me to lean in. It all seems too...easy. Too comfortable. Too everything.