Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“My mom said we’ll go to your house for a while as long as we’re home by four for my open house,” he said.
I turned in his arms. “Kristy’s going to Michigan. She said she’d keep an eye on you for me.” I batted my eyelashes.
Matt rolled his eyes. “Please tell me you’re not jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. You can do whatever you want with Kristy.”
He took a step back. “Don’t do this. Nothing is set in stone.”
“Stop. We know where this is headed.” I shot him a toothy grin.
“I don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want to do anything with anyone else. We have all summer. You act like I’m leaving tomorrow.”
I grabbed his gold cords, pulled him back to me, and smiled. “Yes. We have the summer.”
“Where we can do things?” He bit his lower lip.
Sex.
I lifted onto my toes to kiss him, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught my dad staring at us, so I pressed my lips to his cheek instead of his mouth for a quick peck.
Was it okay that we were using each other for sex? I knew God’s answer, but mine was a little more flexible.
Matt’s family attended my open house for an hour before they had to get home for his. I planned on going there after mine ended at five.
Thirty minutes after they left, I ran inside to use the bathroom, only to find Isaac with his head in the fridge.
“The party is outside. And your family left. What are you still doing here?”
He turned, holding a jar of sliced dill pickles. “Beef burgers are a little disappointing, but I can deal with it as long as there are pickles.” He set the jar on the counter next to his paper plate piled high with food. “I’m sure it was an oversight on your mom’s part. No biggie.” Isaac opened the jar and fished a slice out with his plastic fork.
“Didn’t you ride with your parents?” I asked.
“Yes, but I wasn’t done eating, so your mom said I can ride with you when you go to Matty’s open house,” he mumbled after shoving nearly half the sandwich into his mouth. “I carried a few heavy coolers to the back of the garage for her. I think she’s starting to like me.”
Before I could respond, my mom slid open the patio door.
“Did you really say Isaac could ride with me to their house?” I blurted.
“Well, yes. Why?” She tore off a trash bag from the roll under the sink.
“I figured I was riding with you guys.”
Mom unfolded the bag and snapped it open. “I assumed you’d stay later than we will.”
“Oh.” That’s it. I had no better response. Of course, I would stay longer and therefore drive. But I couldn’t think in Isaac’s proximity because he made me nervous and other things I hadn’t yet defined.
Mom headed back out to the garage.
“You look pretty,” Isaac said. “That dress makes the blue in your eyes pop. You have great eyes. Does Matty tell you that? They’re really stunning.”
I hated my body for blushing because Isaac wasn’t serious. He said it in a mocking tone like he said Matty.
My pleated blue peasant dress that covered my knees and shoulders and had a thin vinyl belt wasn’t sexy, and neither were my knee-high brown boots, but Isaac didn’t say I looked sexy. He said I looked pretty.
Suddenly, I hated the word pretty.
Pretty meant sweet.
Sweet meant innocent.
Innocent meant a virgin.
Don’t get me started on him calling my eyes stunning. No, “Matty” never said my eyes were stunning.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I mumbled, running up the stairs before the heat made my head pop like the valve on my mom’s pressure cooker.
How was I going to be alone with him in my car?
CHAPTER SEVEN
DARYL HALL & JOHN OATES, “SARA SMILE”
“Sarah, you and Isaac go on ahead while we finish putting the food away,” Mom said after the last person left our house.
I hiked my purse over my shoulder and fidgeted with my keys while Isaac stood by the door, eating his fourth piece of cake.
Yes, I’d been counting. I spent the entire afternoon keeping one eye on Satan.
“Okay,” I said nervously.
Isaac finished the cake and tossed the plate into the trash before leading the way to my blue Plymouth Champ, where he opened my driver’s side door.
“What are you doing?” I asked, freezing because it felt like a trap.
“Being a gentleman.”
“You’re not a gentleman,” I said while tossing my purse behind the seat and stepping into the car.
“Sunday Morning, I’m a lot of things you know nothing about.” He shut my door.
I fumbled my keys, looking for the right one.
“You know, my dad secretly hates that your family lives here,” Isaac said as I shoved the key into the ignition.