She smiles sweetly at me and takes a bite. With a surprised look says, “This is good.” Taking another big bite, she points the sandwich at me and says, “You make a good sandwich. I’d never thought of putting slices of apple in a chicken sandwich.”
“Haven’t you had a Waldorf salad?” I ask.
“Yeah, I guess. But I would never eat that. Don’t they have raisins?” she says with a grimace.
“You don’t like raisins?”
“Not so much.”
“You’re a good baker,” I tell her as I take a bite of a really fresh, buttery, apricot scone. Feeling the need to move, I watch her finish her drink. Finally I ask, “Do you want to walk along the beach?”
“Sounds good.”
After packing up, I grab a hold of her hand as we walk to the beach. The sky is blue and the air is cool as we pick up pebbles and throw them in the cold, calm water of the inlet. For a girl who grew up on an Island, she has no idea how to skip stones. I find a couple of flat ones.
“Hey, Jennifer,” I say as I hand her the stones. “Here, get your arm like this, it’s more like throwing a Frisbee than throwing a baseball.”
She throws the stone and squeals. “Yikes! I only got one.”
I pull her to me, so her back is to my chest, then I take a hold of her wrist. With a flat stone in her hand, I take her through the motion. It’s kind of awkward, but the stone makes three skips. She squeals, and then claps her hands and cheers.
Damn, that squeal of hers goes right to my dick.
“Try it on your own this time,” I say as I cross my arms and watch her.
She nods, then repeats the motion I showed her. The stone skips three times. She squeals and jumps as if this is a great victory. Getting into her energy, I clap. After a while, we give up on skipping stones and head up to the road. We take the wide sidewalk that runs between the ocean cliffs and the street. As we walk, Jennifer’s phone keeps on buzzing.
Finally I ask, “Do you need to get that?”
Smiling shyly at me, she shakes her head. “No, it’s probably Kelly. She can be quite persistent.”
When her phone rings again, I tell her, “Put Kelly out of her misery and pick it up.”
She looks at me skeptically and then finally pulls out her phone. As she unlocks it, she points to the phone and nods. “Hi, Kelly.”
Feeling mischievous, I grab her phone out of her hands, pull it up to my ear saying, “She’s busy, call her back next week.”
Jennifer squeals at me, which makes me laugh. Am I really on a date with a girl who squeals? Jennifer tries to pull the phone out of my hand. Laughing even harder, I keep the phone away from her since I like Jennifer’s hands on me. I can hear Kelly saying, “Who is this? Why is your voice familiar? Give Jennifer back to me.”
Finally handing the phone back to Jennifer, she puts her hand on my chest to hold me back. Like that does anything except get me more excited about having her touching me.
“I’m fine, what do you want?” she says.
“Who is that? I know the voice.”
“What do you want?” Jennifer says in response.
“Not until you tell me who you’re with.”
I yell at the phone, “It’s Rocket.”
Kelly screams, “ROCKET! You’re with Rocket?”
“Got to go,” Jennifer says as she turns off her phone and puts it back in her pack. In her best schoolmarm voice she says, “Behave yourself.” Then, in a conspiratorial way, she adds, “Kelly has the biggest mouth.”
Moving close to her, I softly say, “You don’t want Kelly to know you’re here with me?”
Jennifer’s eyes get big. She looks startled by the question. Finally shaking her head, she answers quietly. “Once my friends find out I’m with you, their inquisition is worse than my parents. That’s what I want to avoid. They're all really gossipy.”
She looks sweet as she tells me about her friends. I let my desires loose as I pull her in tight for a kiss. The kiss is getting good when a car honks at us and someone yells, “Hey, get a room.”
Jennifer pushes me away looking embarrassed.
Damn, this day is turning out to be more fun than last Sunday.
Chapter 8 – The Giant Dipper
Jennifer
I can’t believe Rocket grabbed my phone out of my hands and told Kelly I’m with him. What will she think? I don’t want the princesses to know about us. I don’t want to even think that there is an us. He’s a friend, the bad boy I hang with to show there’s more to me than playing croquet. My brain flashes to Carter, last year’s boyfriend, the one I met playing croquet. My college friend, Hita, referred to him as the trifecta, a lawyer with an MBA who worked at a VC—the financial firms who fund start-ups. Then again, Carter was rather judgmental, looking down at my career choice and anyone that didn’t match up to his high bar of achievement. Anyway, I’m hanging with Rocket. He’s my between-boyfriend amusement.
Right?
Obviously Rocket doesn’t have any issue being seen with me. He thinks telling Kelly we’re spending time together is funny. I thought guys were all relationship phobic. What’s with this guy?
Then he kissed me.
That wasn’t a little kiss. That kiss was hot, like steamy hot, like toe curling, panty-wetting hot. Why does a guy like Rocket have to be such an amazing kisser? Well, of course, why else would women date him? Of course, he’d know how to kiss. Damn, I didn’t know kissing could be this…steamy, and I’ve kissed a lot of guys.
The kiss. The kiss is way too confusing.
As I stand on the sidewalk paralyzed from the kiss, Rocket takes my hand and leads me along the pathway that borders the ocean. It’s a bright blue-sky day. Stopping to lean on the metal guardrail that lines the sidewalk, I look down the steep embankment. The ocean is littered with little blobs of black; all the surfers waiting to catch a wave. I break the silence by asking Rocket, “Did you ever surf?”
He chuckles to himself before answering, “Skateboarders and surfers, in my high school we were frenemies. I avoided surfing as a statement of differentiation. Once my friends and I had our driver’s license, we spent our weekends up in Mammoth snowboarding. One of my buddies had a house up there. We spent all our time trying to one-up each other by performing skateboarding tricks in the snow.” As he pulls himself out of his reverie he looks at me. “You’re from Oahu, did you surf?”
“Only a little; I was always a chicken. The waves really scare me. I prefer to play in water that is quiet and still, looking for shells or snorkeling. My brothers both rowed, outrigger mostly. There are a lot of rowing competitions where I grew up.”
After a while of quietly watching the surfers, Rocket asks, “Hey let's walk to the end of the wharf.”
He threads his fingers through mine; his warm hands feel good. We walk together along the road next to the cliff. At the end of the wharf, we lean with our forearms on the top of the railing and watch the sea lions basking, arguing, and barking at each other in the sun.
As we start walking back, he points while saying, “Hey, when was the last time you rode the Giant Dipper?”
“Giant Dipper?” I say in confusion. “Come on, this will be fun.” He points to the roller coaster down by the boardwalk.
“What?”
Rocket chuckles as he threads his fingers through mine…again. Then he starts tugging me along the dock toward the boardwalk. The closer we get, the bigger the roller coaster gets. It’s not one of those newfangled roller coasters. This one is old, and wood, and makes scary clanky noise as the cars roll around the loop and up and down the hills.
I pull against him as I start nervously laughing. “No way am I going on that. It looks like a death trap.”
He looks at me in surprise. “Jennifer, it’s almost a hundred years old. If it’s lasted that long without killing anyone, I think it'll make it another day.”
I feel excitement and fear surge through me.
“I know I’m a wimp. I guess I can do i
t.”
Rocket puts his arm around me and pulls me to him. “It'll be fun.”
Rocket stops at the ticket booth and buys some for us. As we stand in line, I hold tightly onto his hand.
He laughs, then puts his arm around my shoulder pulling me close. Speaking quietly into my ear he says, “Really? This old wimpy roller coaster scares you?”
I nod as I nervously laugh. I can’t believe it. I actually get into the car. On my own, with no gun to my head. Of course, my luck, it’s the first car in the train.
The train starts moving; it vibrates and clangs. I let out a little shriek.
Rocket leans over, takes my hand, and says, “It hasn’t even done anything yet.”
We enter a long dark tunnel, I scream and hold tight onto the bar and Rocket’s hand as we go through some drops and turns while still in the tunnel. We come out to the bright light of day. We’re at the base of the hill. We slowly climb to the top. I grab onto Rockets arm yelling at him, “Oh no, Oh no, we’re going to fall off.”
The train drops fast and far, then banks and turns fast, I’m screaming at the top of my lungs—the whole time. The train then rises up into a banked turn and goes through two hills followed by a turnaround. We then head over more small hills followed by some turnarounds. Finally, it enters the brake run. Of course I’ve screamed through the entire three-minute ride. When we stop, Rocket is laughing. Really hard. He helps me out of the car. The people behind us are laughing too.
One says, “Man, you have a good set of lungs.”
Rocket pulls me tight and gives me a kiss on the top of my head. “I think they heard you in Monterrey.”
“That was scary, real scary.”
“Haven’t you been on a roller coaster before?” he says in surprise.
I shake my head. “No way, those things are death traps.”
Rocket barks out a laugh and gives me a squeeze.
That was fun!
Chapter 9 – Dinner
Rocket
I pull into work on Monday with a smile on my face. I might not have made as much progress on my sculpture this weekend, but being with Jennifer on Saturday was great. During the week, we manage to maintain contact through texting.
There’s something about her.
I want more.
When my phone buzzes, I can’t wait to see what she has to say. As the weekend approaches, I start thinking of what we can do next. What I really want is to show her my work, but that will need to wait. I ask her out for dinner on Friday and she says yes.
***
On Friday, I wake up feeling excited. I can’t wait to see Jennifer. After my morning bike ride, I make sure to shave. I pull on a pair of jeans. They’re worn, but don’t have any holes. Then I look through my shirts. I haven’t purchased anything new in years. T-shirts can say a lot about a guy. The young kids at work all wear the company swag; the older guys buy their own clothes. I wear my cycling T-shirts to show that I’m an athlete, not some idiot geek. The only T-shirts I have that aren’t frayed are from work. Should I wear a new geeky work shirt, or should I wear a worn cycling shirt?
What’s with me?
Why am I spending too much time on ridiculous trivia?
I grab a work shirt and head out to my truck.
***
Jennifer lives in Mountain View. I’ve been to Castro Street, meeting up with some friends at the Bierhaus. We had a good burger and interesting beer. Parking at her place I text: I’m downstairs.
It takes a few minutes before I see her emerge, looking so pretty my chest constricts.
Is she really my date?
Her long, shiny hair is in a ponytail, which makes her look like a teenager. Her lips glisten from lip gloss; it takes monumental effort to raise my eyes to hers when I say, “Hi.”
As we drive to the restaurant, I’m glad I’m holding onto the steering wheel since it gives my hands something to do. I have this overwhelming desire to touch her. I’m not sure how long I can maintain my control.
Her apartment isn’t too far from downtown. After finding a parking spot, we start walking to the restaurant. I lace my fingers through hers.
A burst of electricity.
She gasps. She’s felt it, too.
The Bierhaus has a large outside patio with long tables imported from Germany. At the end of one table, we find two spots. The clientele is probably eighty percent guys. Typical, in Silicon Valley the male to female ratio is terribly skewed.
Jennifer raises her glass telling me, “My friends all like margaritas, but I prefer beer.” With a deep gulp, she closes her eyes and smiles. “After a week with kids this feels like liquid relaxation.”
“Is it getting easier?” I ask.
“You’ll need to ask me that next year. Right now, every week is a new adventure. With Common Core, even the experienced teachers are overwhelmed creating lesson plans. I’m hoping next year will be easier. The first thing I do after the school day is over is make notes on what I would have done differently. I wish I could play my day backward.”
“Don’t we all wish we knew at the beginning of the day what we know at the end.”
“I take it you’re still learning at work?”
I nod. “All the time. I’ve only been working as a programmer for a year. I might be older than the new kids, but I’m not more experienced, though I am a lot more mature.”
We talk about subjects other than family, which is a relief. She tells me, “I think Halloween is my favorite holiday. In college, a group of us all dressed as princesses our freshman year. You met some of the princesses at Moe’s. That’s how I got tight with Kelly. Did you know she was a princess? Merida.”
“No way, I’d love to see Kelly dressed as a princess. Wearing one of those long sparkly skirts, she probably looked like she was in drag.”
Jennifer knits her eyebrows before saying, “Kelly’s not that bad.”
I counter, “She’s the most masculine straight chick I’ve ever met.”
“She has a feminine side.”
“I think it would have to be only a sliver. I've never seen a feminine side to that chick.”
Jennifer frowns before continuing. “Well anyway, I went as Mulan, though I’m the opposite of a warrior.” Giving me a serious look she explains, “Kelly’s a warrior, my other friends you met at Moe’s, Juliette and Isabelle, they’re little but they, too, are warriors. Those three have no fear; they’ll run headfirst into anything. Me, I’ve always been a chicken. When they’re running into battle, I’ll be the one hiding under the bed, then baking cookies so everyone has something nice to eat when they get home.”
Yeah, she’s sweet.
I think back to last Saturday. “I saw your bravery on the Giant Dipper.”
She gives me a playful punch on the shoulder. “Hey, that was scary.”
Chapter 10 – Weekend Plans
Jennifer
During the week, I get a text from Juliette asking me how my date with Rocket went. I knew Kelly would tell everyone. I’m not ready to talk about him since I enjoyed our time together, but there’s nothing to tell. Thinking about Rocket makes me smile. He’s one amazing kisser. You can have an amazingly hot kiss with some guy and it doesn’t mean anything, right? I text Juliette back the truth, Fun, Fun, Fun. Frankly, I can’t say any more than that, since that’s what it was—fun.
***
Rocket’s been texting me all week. I thought guys didn’t like to text. On Wednesday, he asked me out for dinner this Friday. I feel conflicted. I’ve never had this much fun with a guy. He’s easy to be around. It makes me wish he looked more presentable. He has a high tech job, but he lives in Boulder Creek. Only hippies and weirdos live in the mountains. Why can’t he be a lawyer or a banker? Why can’t he cut his hair and dress in nice clothes? Why does he have to have so many tattoos and the piercings? What’s with that?
But he is fun…and terribly sexy.
Damn.
***
On Friday, he picks me u
p for dinner. Surprisingly he’s wearing a company T-shirt, and it’s not even frayed. Though it’s short sleeve, so you can see all his tattoos…and his amazing arms. He’d look so much better if his hair was styled. He looks too hipster to be hanging out in the valley. All those types live in San Francisco or Santa Cruz. They’re always getting high and going to places like Burning Man. That’s not me.
Why would anyone even consider getting a tattoo?
As we drive to Castro Street for dinner, I worry that someone I know might see us. What would they think if they saw me with Rocket? Luckily, I don’t run into anyone. Dinner is fun. After a couple of beers, we both get restless. It’s only eight thirty. I wonder if Rocket’s planned anything next, or if he’ll drive me home. As we walk hand-in-hand back to his truck, I think of last week’s kiss.
It was amazing.
How do some guys know how to kiss so well?
As we reach his truck, I blurt out, “This is such a guy truck. How does anyone get in without looking like a total spaz?”
Rocket looks down at me from his seat, reaches over the console, grabs each of my hands in his, and pulls me quickly up inside the cab. Face to face we both stare at each other’s lips. I’m not sure who moves first. Lifting my arm to his shoulder for balance his lips feel soft and firm. He tastes good, like beer and man.
Our tongues dance.
My entire body quivers.
His hair feels soft and silky as I roll my fingers through it. He raises one hand to my face, running his fingers down my cheek, which leaves a trail of tingles. He moves in for another deep kiss. My entire body lights up—my groin pulses. Separating again, our foreheads connect. I listen to the rhythm of our breath. I wonder what it would be like to make love to him. In one swift move, he pulls me on his lap while moving his seat back. One of his arms is cradling me while his other arm grasps my waist. I cup his head with my free hand while we continue to kiss.
Our kiss starts off soft and light and gets deeper and firmer.
Jennifer and Rocket (The Princesses of Silicon Valley Book 6) Page 4
