The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (23 page)

“All right. I’ll be waiting.” Aimee hung up and flew to the bathroom to shower and get ready. She knew Dylan wouldn’t let this rest until he found out who was hounding her, and if it was Brandi, maybe she deserved whatever she would get. The excitement about her acceptance at the University of the Cascades was being spoiled by this infuriating creep.

Aimee was quickly gathering up her books and stuffing them angrily into her backpack when Dad tapped on her door, then poked his head in. “Can I come in?” he asked.

“Sure. Dylan will be here in a sec though. What’s up?”

He hesitated for a few seconds, and then he looked at Aimee with his eyes full of concern. “Aimee, I know you’re eighteen, technically an adult, but you need to be really careful. There are a lot of freaks out there.”

She walked over to Dad, placed her hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it lightly. Suddenly her anger evaporated. “Dad, you’re so sweet, but you worry too much. I know how to take care of myself.” Aimee kissed his cheek, and he managed a smile. Zonker bounced off her bed and raced towards the front door to announce Dylan’s arrival.

“Hey, before you go. I’m taking Hannah up to Reedsport the first part of April. Do you and Dylan want to join us?”

“Like a
double date
with you and our economics teacher?”

“Yeah, like a double date, I guess. What? Are your old man and his girlfriend too old for you two to hang with?” he teased.

“Nope, so not the reason. It’s just I don’t think I’ll be ready to surf by then, and I’m not sure I could stand sitting on the beach watching everyone else surfing and having fun. You know I had to sit the sidelines at Ashland. It was the pits. Thanks for the invite, but I think we’ll pass. You two go and have a great time, and don’t act like you’re sixteen and be out there showing off for Dr. Morris,” Aimee said, and then she opened the front door. Dylan’s finger was an inch away from the doorbell.

“Damn, Aimee, how do you do that? Oh, hey Mike, how’s it going?”

Aimee winked at her dad, and then pulled Dylan along to his FJ before he could strike up a conversation with her dad.

School was in a buzz. March was almost over. Seniors were too busy preparing for their plans after graduation to care much about the hoopla. Juniors were excitedly awaiting their turn at becoming seniors, and preparing for the end of school festivities. Evidence of the Junior-Senior prom in May was everywhere. Dylan hadn’t mentioned anything about it, not like he couldn’t notice all of the announcements. Flyers hung on the walls in every hallway and all over the campus. Neon colored posters covered the cafeteria walls. She sincerely hoped he didn’t feel pressured to invite her because they were seniors. Unlike Chelsea, Aimee didn’t like getting all primped up in a satiny gown and painful high heels, especially when you only wore the outfit once before it went to the back of the closet for eternity. And she stunk at dancing. Social events were what Chelsea lived for, and she would insist that Aimee go to prom. If Dylan even asked her, and Aimee seriously hoped he wouldn’t, she would have to say yes, and get plucked and tucked like a Thanksgiving turkey. She was sure Chelsea would love to help her get pimped out in style.

Basketball had ended at East Medford, and baseball was ramping up. She wasn’t crazy about football, too much carnage, but Aimee was positive she would go to her share of football games in the fall when she would be in the stands watching Dylan play for UC, and cheering on the Bears. Because of all the time she spent courtside watching James, basketball was on her list of most watched sports, but baseball was her favorite. So Dylan took Aimee to every home game if she didn’t have to work. After school Dylan and Aimee walked to the baseball field to watch East Medford play. Dylan stopped at the light pole in right field, ripped off the taped prom flyer and presented it to her.

“What’s this?” Her brows furrowed when she realized what was on the bright pink piece of paper.

“Your invitation, Madam. Prom’s coming,” he casually said.

“And?”

He took both of Aimee's hands, worked his fingers into hers, and then smiled. “And I would like you to go with me. I figured you knew we were going, but I’m making it official. I know you’re not crazy about anything formal or glitzy, but I really want us to go.”

Aimee took a deep breath and studied his face. The back of his hand brushed lightly across her
cheek and he gazed into her eyes waiting for a response.
Damn it. He knows I won’t disappoint him.
“Okay. Sure. Why not,” she struggled to answer, faking a sad excuse for a smile. “I would love to go with you to prom…” Feeling victorious, he leaned in, his lips ready to taste hers when she continued. Aimee cleared her voice first. “…on one condition…”

Dylan froze, his mouth an inch from hers, and pulled back staring incredulously at Aimee.

“You have to promise to honor my one condition.”

Dylan paused and tapped his fingers on his chin pretending he was contemplating her ultimatum. “So, let’s hear it.”

Smugly she said, “Well, as I was saying, I would love to go with you on one condition, and that is you must agree to go with me one weekend before prom to Otter Rock to surf. Just the two of us. I want to teach you how to surf.”

His jaw softened, and the corners of his mouth lifted upwards. “
Sweeeet
! I like your condition.”
He instantly tethered her body to his, and kissed her passionately, and for a moment Aimee forgot they were at the baseball field. A couple of Dylan’s friends passed by them and shouted some crude comments. Aimee felt her cheeks heat up as Dylan pried himself from her steel-like clutch and lobbed back a few obnoxious remarks. He returned his lips swiftly to hers. He stopped and whispered tenderly, “I love you.” Aimee knew the rest of the evening she would be thinking of Dylan, not baseball.

The temperature dropped about twenty degrees around the eighth inning when a cold front pushed through Medford. The sky opened up and rain furiously fell. The crowd emptied the bleachers scattering for their cars. Dylan grabbed her hand and they raced to his FJ to escape the downpour. They both laughed crazily as they jumped onto the seats mindless of the water soaking into the soft material. Dylan grabbed a blanket from the back seat and handed it to Aimee, and then he gently wiped away the rain drops running down her cheeks. His chocolate eyes bore into Aimee's, and her heart instantly fluttered. She locked onto him like an anaconda with her hands tight around his neck. She weaved her fingers into his dark, wet hair and their tongues danced wildly together. Instantly, their bodies welded. He glided his lips across Aimee's throat softly kissing it, and his warm breath hung on her cool skin. She glanced around. It was pouring and darkness had crept up quickly. The windows were foggy, but it looked like the parking lot had cleared, everyone except them.

She could feel Dylan’s heart beating through his shirt. He held on tightly to her. He floated his hands down Aimee's back to the top of her jeans, and touched her moist skin. Shivers ran up her spine. She pried herself away and stared into his eyes, bit her bottom lip, took a deep breath, then took his hand and guided it under the front of her shirt. He moved his hand up her stomach and placed it on top of her bra. Her breathing sped up. Aimee whispered, “Do you want me?”

His fingers trembled against her breast, and his eyes filled with desire. His voice was soft, but
deep. “Yes, of
course
I want you, Aimee…,” he paused, his hand still rested on her breast, “…but are
you sure? I mean, I don’t want to pressure you into anything. God knows how much I’ve wanted you since last summer, but I can wait. I know it will happen for us soon enough.”

“No, I’m ready now, Dylan.”

“Are you sure?”

Tears pooled in her eyes from the passion that consumed her. Aimee waited briefly until the lump in her throat cleared. “I’m more sure of that than anything in my life. I love you, and I want you. I’m scared, but I know you will be here for me.”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed. His hand slid off Aimee's bra and down her stomach. “You’re scared? I won’t hurt you. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“I know you will. It’s just that…” Aimee paused and sighed uncomfortably. “…I’m a…
virgin
.” She stared
timidly into his eyes. Her confession had been difficult to admit. She was probably the only eighteen
year old virgin at East Medford. Instantly his hand sailed to her hip and rested on
top
of her jeans. His
eyes studied hers.

“A
virgin
?!”

“Yes, a virgin.” He had promised not to physically hurt her, but her feelings were a little bruised by his reaction.

“Like you’ve never had
sex
before?!” he said, his voice still low, but rising slightly with
each word.

Feeling the desire drain from her, Aimee glanced away and answered, “No, never.”

Dylan tilted his head back with his eyes closed, shook his head, then gazed back at Aimee. For a few seconds, yet what stretched forever, he scrutinized her face. He took his hands from her hips and
moved up her back on
top
of her shirt.

“God, Aimee, I’m so ready for you, but I don’t wanna force you into anything until you’re ab
solutely positive
you
are ready, and then everything will be perfect. We won’t have just sex. We will
make love. There won’t be any doubt.”

Aimee wanted him now more than the air her lungs craved, but she realized the magical moment was over. It would happen, just not tonight. He wanted her, too, but he wasn’t willing to take her virginity, at least not today. Aimee prayed,
Our perfect moment will come again soon.
She sighed quietly.

Dylan started the FJ. Aimee squirmed back into the seat, then looked into the mirror while she raked her fingers through her tangled, damp hair, and slid a finger under her eyes to remove the mascara smudge. She smiled at Dylan after she flipped up the visor.

“Dylan, you're probably the only eighteen year old male alive that would worry about my
virtue. You are
so
a gentleman.”

He reached over and eased his fingers into hers, then pulled Aimee's hand to his lips and gingerly kissed it. “You don’t know how hard that really was. I love you, and you make me freakin’ crazy with your beautiful body. Oh man, every time I’m near you it’s all I can do to keep my hands off of you. Damn, I want you so bad...but,” he paused and sighed, then finished, “I can wait until the time is right.”

They pulled out of the desolate parking lot onto the main road and drove to Dylan’s house in a sprinkle. Their clothes were still dripping wet. Dylan wanted some dry clothes and dinner. His stepsister, Kara, had a gigantic closet full of clothes she stored for visits home from college. He griped she had more clothes than a department store, probably most still had tags, so Aimee could pick out an entire new outfit. Before getting into the subdivision they stopped at the main intersection to wait at the red light. Aimee reached over, turned up the radio, and glanced out the side window at the passing traffic mindlessly drumming her fingers to the music. Her mouth dropped, but nothing could come out
at first. Then her heart skipped. She spotted
it
- the Lexus.
Her
black Lexus! It crept through the inter
section at an incredibly measured pace, then suddenly tore down the street. Dylan’s head whipped towards Aimee and he caught the terror on her face, then followed her shaking finger.

The scream finally swelled from Aimee's throat a couple octaves above normal and boomed
out,
“OMIGOD, THERE IT IS! THE LEXUS!”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed while he eyed the tail of the car. He glanced in his rearview mirror, then threw the FJ into reverse, backing just enough to pull around the truck idling in front of them at the red light.

He screeched, “
HOLD ON!”,
and then gunned the FJ around the beat up, old pickup. Someone
was coming from the opposite direction so Dylan mashed the gas pedal and turned the wheel at the same time. Aimee heard piercing screams escape from her mouth. She braced her arm against the door to keep her right side from hitting it. Dylan narrowly missed the car coming through the intersection before he turned sharply left and fishtailed on the slick street, then slid into the second lane and straightened out.

His arm automatically stretched across Aimee's torso as he spit out between his clenched teeth, “You okay?”

“Holy crap, Dylan, you’re gonna get us killed!”

“We’re fine. We’re fine. Keep your eyes on the Lexus!”

The driver of the Lexus, now a couple blocks ahead of them, had spotted their crazed maneuver. He wasn’t taking any chances getting caught. The chase was on. Within a couple seconds Dylan was moving as fast down the city street as he drove on the interstate. His jaw was set rigid and eyes locked onto the rear of the black speedster. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a car pulled out in front of them from a parking lot. Like an experienced stunt driver, Dylan veered into the left lane and flew by, their cars narrowly missing each other. The screams no longer were audible. They stuck deep in Aimee's parched throat. Her nails embedded sharply into the vinyl. She clenched her fingers so tightly around the handle of the armrest that the blood had drained from them. And as quickly as the FJ jumped into action, it screeched to a halt, pitching Aimee's body forward. She threw up her arms to brace herself from the anticipated impact against the dash. By the time their SUV came to a complete stop they were inches away from the car in front of them. Both lanes were blocked by cars as the light changed from yellow to red. Dylan’s cursing escalated while they watched the black Lexus victoriously tear away.

“Omigod, Dylan, we could have been
killed
! What the
hell
were you thinking?!”