by Laura Clark
I smile and stick my tongue out at him, the same way I would if Kyle had said it. Okay, so it probably isn't exactly the same way. No, it isn't the same way at all. I would definitely not ever look at my brother the way I am looking at Sam right now.
My face warms, as I remember him lying on top of me in my bed last night. We have only ever kissed, but for some reason, it feels like we did more than that last night. Maybe it is because he was in my bed, or it is because his body was pressed up against mine, forcing me to realize just how turned on he was. I glance down at my finger again. Perhaps, it is because we took our relationship to the next level, by officially defining it as an actual relationship. Regardless of the reason, I feel different today, and it's a very good feeling.
My parents disappear upstairs, most likely to change out of their church clothes. I want to change, too, but I'm not about to miss an opportunity to spend some time alone with Sam.
"So, when are you guys heading back?" I ask, trying unsuccessfully to hide the dread in my voice.
"Kyle is packing some of his summer clothes right now. I guess we are going to go after that."
Sam grabs my hand and pulls me with him out into the garage, when he is sure my parents are out of view. The heat smacks us in the face, when he opens the door. It is dark, dingy, and beyond uncomfortable in the garage, but we are alone, and there is no place I'd rather be.
Sam gently closes the door, before leading us over to the third car section of the garage. He wraps his big hands around my waist, and gently lifts me up so I am now sitting on my dad's workbench. Everything he does is sexy. It seems like we are playing out steamy scenes from a movie every time we kiss.
"What do you think? This is not such a bad place to hide out, is it?" he asks, as his hands rest palms-down on my lap. I have to admit that we are in the perfect spot. The Murano is blocking the view from the door. Plus, the door beeps when it opens because of our security system, giving us plenty of time to adjust before anyone could really catch us.
Before I can even nod, he presses his lips against mine, and immediately begins nibbling on my bottom lip. I can feel beads of sweat starting to form on my back, causing the fabric of my thin sundress to stick to my skin.
"I like this," Sam half whispers in a sexy drawl. He lightly brushes the tips of his fingers across my bare thighs, inching the hem of my short dress up slightly. A deep, burning sensation ripples through my body, and that familiar yearning for closeness resurfaces. I scoot myself to the edge of the bench, so I can close the gap between us.
Sam kisses me even more intensely. He grips my lower back tighter, as he gently nudges my thighs further apart so he can fill the space between them. His fingers slowly move further up my thighs underneath my dress. This is so unexpected that I whimper loudly.
"Shhh," he half laughs, while half whispering.
Our foreheads and noses are now touching, while we both catch our breath. I feel embarrassed that I couldn't control myself enough to keep quiet. Him touching me like this is definitely my kryptonite. I probably need to distance myself from him before I let things go too far.
"So, I am already planting the seeds with Kyle to come back home again next weekend. Our last class is Thursday afternoon. Being that Georgia is here, I do not think it will be a very hard sell." He looks at me thoughtfully, and brushes his index finger lightly across my bottom lip.
"I'm still going to miss you," I say softly.
"I am going to miss you and these sweet lips all week, Laila," his sexy voice is just above a whisper. He kisses me again, once, as if to demonstrate.
I can feel his body pressed up against me, and it is making my legs ache in this entirely new and thrilling way. I'm only beginning to understand the way my body reacts to Sam. It's as if it has a mind of its own, and my brain is no longer attached. I suppose that is what people mean when they say things like we got caught up in the moment, or things got carried away. I close my eyes and lean in the rest of the way to kiss him, wishing I could just stop time, and hold onto him like this forever.
Chapter Fourteen: This is Not a Date
I pull the curtains aside, and watch Kyle's car disappear around the corner of our court. My stomach drops, knowing it will be another four days before I can see Sam again. I grab my phone to program him as a new contact. I like the name Harry and decide to use it as his fake identity. I'm sure I will laugh every time his name pops up on the screen. It will be our little inside joke.
I didn't realize that I have two missed calls and one new text waiting for me. Sure enough, I had forgotten to turn my ringer back on after church. I lay down on the mess of sheets and blankets that are balled up on the guest bed. I try to savor Sam's scent, as I check my messages.
The text is from Trevor, whom I had successfully erased from my mind for most of the day. That is until now. His name glares back at me, tempting me to throw my phone across the room and ignore his text. Clearly, I am still upset with him. My curiosity gets the better of me, though. I end up reading his message, even though I know he doesn't deserve my time or attention.
Trevor Maddox: I'm really sorry for what I said to you at church today. I had no right to say any of that to you. Your relationship with Sam is none of my business. Before that, I was having a really good time with you. In fact, it is probably the most fun I've had at church in a really long time. Forgive me?
At the end of his message, a really cute, sad, animated emoticon keeps pressing its hands together, as if it were praying or pleading with me. We did have a really good conversation. I must admit, I was kind of glad he found me in there, before we started fighting.
Me: Fine. I guess it is kind of hard to stay mad at you with that adorable emoticon begging me for forgiveness. Let's just agree not to discuss my relationship with Sam again. Ok?
Trevor Maddox: Done. So, what are you doing tonight?
I am surprised by how quickly he responds to my text.
Me: Not sure. Probably nothing. How about you?
Trevor Maddox: Want to do NOTHING together? :)
Suddenly, the idea of seeing Trevor again, makes all of these butterflies flutter around anxiously in my stomach. I can't tell if they are the good kind or the bad kind. Part of me worries they are the good kind.
Me: That depends . . .
Trevor: Depends on what?
Me: It depends on which Trevor is going to show up. Will it be the sweet, sensitive guy that was telling me about his favorite band today at church, or will it be the jerk that replaced him when he started asking me about my boyfriend?
Trevor Maddox: It will definitely be the nice one. So, you really think I'm sweet and sensitive??? :)
Me: Sometimes, but most of the time, you’re just a big PITA! :)
Trevor Maddox: That may be true, but you just admitted that I am also sweet. See, I KNEW you liked me! :)
Me: Whatever. I meant, you are ok . . . SOME of the time. Don't let it get to your already inflated head, though. I'm not sure how much more your ego can take. So, what did you have in mind?
Trevor Maddox: My ego is just fine, thank you very much. It's a surprise. Just be ready at 6:00 and make sure you are hungry.
Me: Hungry for what?
I cannot believe how openly I am flirting with Trevor. There is something about texting that tears down the walls of fear with me. It's as if my fingers consult with my heart, but they don't bother telling my head what they are going to say. By the time my head catches up, the text has already been sent, and it is too late. Ugh.
My stomach is a mess of knots, as I re-read my text and wait. I realize that I may have even just crossed a line. It certainly doesn't help that he isn't responding right away. Do you ever wish there was a command shortcut in life, where with just a few simple keystrokes, you could completely undo something? This is definitely one of those moments. How nice it would be, to simply tap Command Z and make it seem like that text never happened.
I think this is why I enjoy writing so much. You have full ed
iting capabilities at your fingertips at all times. You can add, delete, restructure, or refine words and sentences to your heart's content, until you are satisfied enough to add your final period. Even then, there is no real commitment, because you still could easily go back and change it, yet again.
Writing is just a painting, with layers upon layers of words, spun and woven delicately into a beautiful work of art. Wouldn't it be so much easier if you could have that kind of control when living in the moment?
Finally, my phone beeps. I quickly slide the bar to unlock it.
Trevor Maddox: For dinner, of course. I'm just going to pretend that you didn't just ask me that question. I don't think your boyfriend would appreciate how I really want to respond . . . :)
Well, at least one of us has enough sense to filter his text before sending it. I have to remind myself to tread lightly here. I realize that I am close to swimming in dangerous waters, and yet I can't seem to stop myself from wanting to spend more time with Trevor. I snap the black ponytail holder against my finger a few times, in an attempt to remind myself just how amazing my boyfriend, Sam, is.
Me: So, what about Avery? Should we see if she wants to hang out, too?
Having Avery there would definitely help keep me in safer, shallower waters. Part of me wants to swim dangerously and recklessly without her, just to see what happens. The smarter, more sensible part of me, however, knows it's probably not a good idea.
Trevor Maddox: She can't. She has a youth group meeting or something at her church.
I completely forgot about that. Avery is very involved with her Church Youth Group. They have meetings on Sunday nights. I suppose it is for the best anyway. I need to be able to hang out with Trevor alone, if we are really going to be friends. With no buffer between us, I should probably rein in the flirting a little, though. I may be sending him the wrong message, and that is only going to make it more difficult for us to be just friends.
Me: Ok. So can you at least tell me what kind of clothes to wear, since you won't tell me where we are going? I kind of need to know how to dress . . . .
Trevor Maddox: You can wear what you wore to church today. I definitely like your dress. :)
That doesn't really help much.
Trevor Maddox: You should probably bring some tennis shoes so your feet don't get muddy, though.
Me: Ok. That helps. See you in a little while. :)
Trevor Maddox: Looking forward to it. :)
I am definitely not wearing this dress if we are going somewhere my feet could get muddy. Plus, a dress is something you wear on a date, and this is not a date.
Instead, I do the opposite, and I go for a truly effortless look. After all, friends don't get all dolled up just to spend time together. I quickly slip on my cut-offs that I normally won't wear in front of people, my plain white, fitted V-neck t-shirt, and my Converse tennis shoes. I even throw on one of Kyle's old baseball hats, to make myself look even less girly.
I glance at myself in the mirror. There is absolutely no way Trevor could be attracted to me. Not when I’m wearing this outfit. I barely even put on any make-up. My frizzy hair is tied back into a messy ponytail that is poking out of the hole in my hat. I still spray on a light dusting of perfume, only because I worry about sweating. After all, he did mention something about my shoes getting muddy, which means we are going to be outside.
When I hear his car pull up in the driveway, I grab my purse and phone. I'd better get down there before my mom gets all weird, and starts thinking we are going on a date or something. There is no telling what potentially scarring things could spew from her lips.
I open the front door just as Trevor is about to knock on it. His intense eyes relax a little, and his arm drops when he realizes I am standing there. It doesn't take long before his dimples are pulled back tightly against his rosy cheeks, and his entire face lights up. At first sight of him, my cheeks flush and my heart leaps. I allow my eyes to quickly scan the rest of him, but I am trying to be discreet about it.
He is wearing a simple, slightly fitted grey t-shirt, olive green cargo shorts, and an old, beat up black canvas baseball cap. Once again, I amazed that this boy with such an incredible body is only in high school. Between his surreal green eyes, that taunting, dimpled smile, and his ridiculously hot body, I'm not sure I have a chance tonight. I look back down at my outfit, reminding myself just how hideous I look. My sloppy appearance is my little insurance to be sure things remain innocent.
He is driving a silver Mustang with black leather interior. It smells and looks brand new, but I know it isn't since the plates are from Pennsylvania. Plus, I can't imagine his parents would buy him a brand new car. Like us, the Maddoxes aren't exactly made of money. Still, most high school guys don’t have cars like this.
A Phillies baseball keychain dangles from his rear-view mirror. Other than that, there are absolutely no visible traces of personal belongings of any kind. This strikes me as a little odd, but perhaps, he just likes to keep his car neat. I wonder how Sam would keep his car, if he had one.
"Are you a big Phillies fan?" I ask, while delicately holding the red and white, enamel keychain between my fingers. The metal is cool to the touch from the air conditioner.
"Yeah. They sort of grew on me after we moved there. I still like the Cardinals, though. They’ll probably always be my favorite since I grew up here."
He turns the ignition, eases his foot off the brake pedal, and shifts the stick into reverse quickly and smoothly. It's as if driving a stick is no different for him than breathing. For some reason, his cool confidence with driving is yet another turn-on for me. I turn away before my body has a chance to further confuse my feelings about our friendship.
"So, are you going to tell me now? Where are we going?" I ask, as I force myself to stare at the trees and houses rushing by.
My peripherals are a little too perceptive because I immediately notice when Trevor glances my way, and I can't help but turn my head to meet his gaze. He is staring at me with one of those I know and I'm not telling you kind of half-turned smiles, the kind that makes my stomach do multiple flips. I have to look away again, so he doesn't catch me blushing.
"Nope. You'll see soon enough." He doesn't offer more than that, and I decide not to push him.
"So, I heard your date with Avery went well." I figure that moving our conversation into a safe territory, right away, should help set the mood for tonight, and keep me out of trouble.
"Yeah. It did."
He doesn't elaborate on it, which of course drives me crazy. Avery told me earlier that he didn't kiss her, which had really surprised me. I just assumed they would kiss, since the date went well. I guess Trevor was just trying to be the perfect gentleman, unless. . . . Is it possible that he isn't all that interested in her? This is Avery Brookes we are talking about, Laila. Of course he's into her. What guy in his right mind wouldn't be? Again, I feel guilty for the brief happiness my initial thought brings me. I. Am. The. Worst. Friend. Ever.
The stereo is playing an old Dave Matthews song called “Satellite.” He hums along and nods his head meaningfully, as if it is an old favorite. I am having a hard time not staring at him. I imagine him singing, on stage, to a group of swooning girls. He is definitely very swoon-worthy when he sings.
When the song ends, he starts up the conversation again. "So, I really think joining the newspaper would be fun. Do you think I could get that guy's number? You know, the editor?" he asks casually.
"Yeah, sure. If you give me your phone, I'll put Brandon's number in there for you."
He hands me his iPhone without hesitation. Before I slide the bar to unlock it, a text message alert from Avery pops up. I try to not read it, but it is just there, filling up the whole screen and tempting me.
Avery: Hey gorgeous. Sorry I couldn't join you guys tonight. Have fun and call me later. I want to hear your sexy voice before I go to bed. :)
I am immediately ashamed and frustrated with myself for reading this very pri
vate message. I quickly slide the bar to remove the text from the screen, wishing that is all it would take to erase it from my memory. I am trying to add Brandon's number, but I am so distracted by Avery's text that I can't even remember his last name.
He doesn't even have her last name programmed in the phone. I know Trevor probably doesn't know any other girls named Avery, but it still bothers me that he is intimate enough with her to be on a first-name basis. I wonder if I am in there as just Laila, too. I shake my head, as if it will make all of these thoughts simply dissolve, like a drawing on an Etch-a-Sketch tablet.
Sam. I need to remember that I have a gorgeous boyfriend named Sam. My phone beeps, letting me know I have a new text. Speak of the devil. I sigh with relief. It’s as if Sam knew just how badly I needed to hear from him right now.
Harry: Hey you. :) Made it back to school safely. Can't stop thinking about you, about us . . . together in the garage. That was beyond HOT! You are beyond HOT!!!
My face heats up as I read his message, making me wish I were alone. Hopefully, Trevor won't notice my reaction.
Me: Agreed. I mean the part about us in the garage. Of course, I don't think I am hot.
I'm not that kind of hot anyway. I fan myself, attempting to cool my fiery cheeks. Trevor reaches over, and turns the vent so it is blowing cool air onto my burning face. So much for discretion. Damn my Technicolor cheeks for, once again betraying me.
