One Trip Around the Sun (13 page)

Small talk fills the time as we browse the menu and wait for our drinks.

Once we’ve ordered, it is game on. I want to know so much about Brady.

“What’s your story anyway? Surely, something crazy is going on under all that perfect your family appears to be.”

He chuckles. “We’re far from perfect, but I can’t say that there’s much crazy going on. I guess we are just pretty average. We fuss and fight like any other family. My mom and dad have been together forever. My older brother is off at college. He’s studying business. I’m sure he’ll take over the gym when my parents are ready to retire. We do a family vacation every year, and my parents do one alone every year, too. Um…for fun, we cook out on the grill and swim. That’s about it.”

“Wow. Your family is like the freaking Waltons.”

“Not exactly, but I don’t have anything to complain about. How about you? What’s your story? I know Kyle is in the Army. What about the rest of your family?”

“Well, my parents have been together forever. My older sister and her husband live in Chicago, and they are expecting their first child, so I will be an aunt soon. That’s kinda cool, I guess. Like you said, you know about Kyle. We used to do a family vacation every year, but we didn’t this year because it’s just me now, so…yeah. For fun, we leave each other alone. That’s about it.”

While Brady takes in that info dump, I change the subject. “So, how do the fights work?”

“Uh…” It takes him a moment to transition to the new conversation. “If people want to fight, they show up. We do rounds, and the winner goes on to the next round until there’s only one left.”

“Oh. Who decides the winner?”

“People either surrender, or whoever is running the fights that night calls it. If anyone throws a punch to the face, he automatically loses that fight.”

“Seems like an odd rule when fighting.” I point to his busted eye. “Did the guy who did that lose?”

“Yeah, he did. Imagine how quickly our parents would start asking questions if we went home with busted-up faces every weekend.”

“Right.” I nervously look around.
First dates are awkward.

My head snaps back to Brady when I realize he has no idea that this is my first date—ever. I almost blurt it out before thinking better of it. I don’t want him to know that I’m so lame that I’ve never been on an official date until now, and I definitely don’t want him to act differently.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, concerned.

“No. Nothing at all.” I smile, hoping to reassure him.

As we eat our pizza and laugh, I find myself feeling less like I’m on a date and more like I’m hanging out with a friend. Brady is easy to be around. Other than boxing, he rides dirt bikes with his friends and family, and surprisingly, he hates watching anything on TV. He thinks it’s a waste of time. This information kinda sucks because I am a reality TV junkie, and I love horror movies.

“Do you want to go see a movie?” Brady asks as we walk to his car after dinner.

I shrug my shoulders. “You said you hate TV.”

“I’ll go to a movie if you want. The choice is totally yours.” He opens the car door for me.

“I just want to be able to talk and stuff…” My voice trails off, and I bite my lip. I know that came out wrong.

With him standing on one side of the door and me on the other, our faces are just a few inches apart.

He arches his eyebrow at me. “Stuff, huh? Like, what kind of stuff?”

His low voice causes that heavy warm feeling—the one I really, really like—to begin down below.

I drop my gaze to the ground and slide into his car.

“Do you wanna go to The Pit until we decide on something better to do?” he asks as we pull out of the parking lot.

I nod.

Once at The Pit, everyone flocks around us, wanting to check out Brady’s eye.

After everyone disperses, he leads me to the back of someone’s pickup truck. He puts his hands on my waist even though I try to stop him, and he gives me a boost up onto the tailgate before settling beside me.

His friend puts a beer in his hand.

“Nah, I’m good,” he tells his friend before winking at me.

I’m happy that he declined.

We sit there, listening to music, as the guys talk about the fights from the night before. At one point, Brady takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers, and he rests our clasped hands on my thigh.

After about forty-five minutes, he leans in. “Do you want to leave?”

“We can stay.”

“Are you sure? We can go to a movie now if you want.” He lets go of my hand and jumps off the back of the truck.

“I’d rather stay here.”

Standing in front of me, he slides his hands from my knees up to my thighs and kneads them softly. His eyes burn into me. I’m aware of the rise and fall of my chest as I breathe faster. Instinctively, I open the space between my knees, inviting Brady to come closer to me. He accepts and then quickly seals his lips over mine.

Yes! I have been waiting for this since we got here
.

He has a tight grip on my thighs as he kisses me. One of his hands moves to the back of my neck, and he pulls me closer. I ache for Brady to touch me in ways I have never before wanted to be touched. I get it now—how things can go way too far, way too fast.

Every time that I’ve made out with a boy, I’ve been the one to stop before things could go too far. But with Brady, I have no desire to stop—none. He could lay me back on the bed of this truck and take me now if he wanted to.

I slide my hands up his arms and pause on his biceps because the dips and bulges feel amazing under my fingertips.

Oh Lord!
I feel like I do when I watch a steamy sex scene in a movie—times a billion. A fireworks show is going off inside my body, and it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.

“Hey, mind letting her up for a breath?”

I peek out of one eye and see Chelsea. She jumps up onto the tailgate, landing next to me.

Brady covers her face with his palm, and I feel his smile against my lips as he slows the kiss.

Chelsea squeals, pulling his hand away. Being the pervert that she is, she places it on my boob. Now, I’m squealing into his mouth. He slides his hand, so his fingers are splayed over my side, but his palm is most definitely still on my boob. Nonetheless, he is touching me there—and I don’t mind one bit.

He pulls his lips away from mine, and I wipe under his bottom lip with my thumb. His wet lips look good.

“Sorry.” My voice is soft.

I’m distracted now because Chelsea is right next to me, watching us. She’s never seen me like this.

Brady sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Then, he leans in close to my ear and whispers, “You taste so fucking good, babe.”

Oh.
I clench my core tight, trying to get some relief from the pain that leaves me feeling desperate for more.

I turn my head toward Chelsea, mentally begging her not to say or do anything to embarrass me any more than I already am.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Brady pats my thigh and then takes a step back.

I nod my head. He heads toward a group of his friends.

“Whoa. I see what you were talking about. He’s pretty intense.” Her eyes widen as she watches him walk away from us. She turns and looks at me. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

I knew that was coming. “Well, actually, Brady took me out to dinner. Um…and then he asked me if I wanted to go see a movie, but—”

A smile spreads across her face. “You little hussy! You love going to the movies. You just wanted to get your hands on him.”

I shake my head and try to hide my guilty smile. “Shut up. Please don’t embarrass me in front of him.”

She throws her arm over my shoulder and pulls me close. “I won’t. But that was some pretty intense making-out you two had going on. Thank God for this.” She pats my arm where my birth control implant is, and then she leans to the side and hides behind Connor who just joined us.

I reach out to playfully smack her arm, but I hit Connor instead.

“Ouch! Damn! What did I do?” Connor whines.

Returning, Brady holds out a beer to me. I take it from him, and he turns around, slipping himself between my legs and leaning back on the tailgate. He puts his elbows on my thighs and lays his back on my chest.

“Am I hurting you?” He tips his head up to look at me and tucks his hands under my knees.

I shake my head because I can’t seem to speak. Finally, he directs his attention to a guy playing his guitar a few feet away. Brady starts singing the song.

He sounds good!

I recognize the song as “Play It Again.” Brady might not be Luke Bryan, but he’s not too bad.

I put my beer down then lay my arms over his shoulders and rest my hands on his chest, moving with him as he sways. I don’t think my smile is ever going to leave my face.

After the song, he doesn’t sing again, but I will certainly be asking for a private show very soon.

Willpower, do not fail me tonight, please
.

Reese and I have been at The Pit for a few hours, and I already want to leave. I want to be alone with her. I asked her several times if she’d like to go to the movies, and she was quick to decline each time. I can’t help but wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. This is going to be harder than I imagined. Something—no, everything tells me that it will be so worth it, too.

Reese looks good, smells good, and tastes every bit as good as she did last night. I can’t keep my hands to myself because of it. As long as she responds the way she has been, I have no intentions of being too well behaved.

Chelsea and I exchange looks, signaling that we will talk tomorrow about tonight’s events. I haven’t looked at my phone in hours, and it dawns on me that I have no idea what time it is.

I hit the button, bringing my phone to life. It’s eleven fifty, and my curfew is at midnight. “Shit!”

And there is a text from my dad.

Hope you’re having a nice time. Midnight curfew. Don’t forget.

My dad is apparently interested in me all of a sudden, and he’s home, knowing I’m with a guy.

Double shit! This is not good.

“What’s wrong?” Brady asks.

“I’m sorry, but can you take me home? I told my dad I’d be home by midnight.”