“Hey,” he says, walking up my driveway in the dark. I keep peering toward our driveway, afraid I’ll see a sweep of headlights and it’ll be Clay driving my mother home, finding me standing here in my black tankini, so not where she expects me to be.īut instead, I hear Jase’s quiet voice. Always consider consequences.”įive minutes later, I’m standing in our yard beneath my bedroom window, waiting nervously for Jase to return after changing into his trunks. Seventeen years of lectures and discussions and reminders: “Think about how it looks, Samantha. It’s dizzying how many of my mother’s rules this is breaking. The air is muggy and earthy, almost thick. “Want to go for a swim?” Jase finally asks. Charley, who was basically all about hoping for sex, and Michael, at the mercy of his moods, either elated or in deep despair. I’m used to boys just sort of hurling themselves through life, I guess. Everything he does seems so thought-out and purposeful. “And you’ll need ’em.” He leans back, resting Herbie on his stomach, then slanting onto his elbows. A few hours with your family and now I have supernatural powers.” “It’s been known to happen.” He’s sitting so close, I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Go a little crazy and don’t hang up your bathrobe?” he suggests. I feel defensive, and then defensive about feeling defensive. He peers over my shoulder, in my window, then nods.
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