Absolutely (Larson) Page 12
One parent out of two on my side. At least she lets me go back to see Ashlyn.
She's sitting on a stool smacking her head back on the wall. Now that I know more about her I feel like an ass not being able to open up to her. I try to explain it to her, but I'm not getting anywhere. My heart is sinking. What we have is something. It has to be judging from the hurt surging between us.
Relief courses through me when she confesses that this—us—is important to her too. I can’t let her go home, unless I'm going with her.
***
I'm stupid happy even though we’re heading to the mall—said THAH mall. Just the way it sounds gives me pause. I don’t mind shopping. But it’s THAH mall in a small town pretending to be a city. Yeah.
The fifteen-minute drive there makes it worth it, however, because she points out places that mean something to her. Like the place where some teens have memorialized a classmate who died. Or the ditch where Ashlyn and her mom skidded to a stop on an icy day. “We nearly died. An eighteen wheeler spun out, rolling over inches from us. Scary.”
I can tell she’s a small-town girl. No doubt about it. We pass a now-empty field where she says softly, “My father—my bio-dad, I mean—he used to work an oil rig in that field.” The pained expression on her face passes and is replaced with curiosity.
I know that look. She wants to ask me something, and she’ll fight the impulse. There's only one thing I can do to make this easier on her.
“Ask me, Ash,” I say. “Who knows, I may even answer.” I chuckle.
“How did your parents meet?” It’s a straightforward enough question, not about me at all. I tell her about my high-school-sweetheart parents and Dad’s unenthusiastic family.
“They sort of turned their back on him for a while. Dad’s family had plans for him that didn’t include a Mexicana,” I say ruefully.
Ashlyn’s expression is indignant for people she barely knows. “Do they still act like that? Do you know your grandparents?”
“Nah, but Mom’s family more than makes up for it. They’re all a person could want…or handle for that matter.”
“If they are anything like my dad’s family, I know what you mean!”
We park at the mall. I help her out, sliding her down my body. I lean in and murmur, “Those jeans should be illegal. Seriously, are they really jeans? They look sprayed on…” My hands, still lingering on her waist, skim her waistband under her shirt. She gasps.
I break away quickly, not allowing myself to get carried away. Ashlyn eyes dart up to mine, as fired up as I am. Tugging her gently forward, I get us into the mall.
***
Two hours and countless dressing rooms later, we’re heading out the doors. The Cookie Time cookies may have sucked, but Ashlyn’s goodies? Decked out in the ridiculous to the sexy-as-hell outfits she tried on, she was mouthwatering. The mall has me needing a cold shower.
“Where to now?” she asks, reminding me it’s my choice.
“Where’s there a park?” I wonder out loud.
“Down the street,” she responds quickly, pointing past the freeway.
“That’s where we’re heading then,” I decide, while rushing her to the Jeep. She’s laughing the whole way.
As soon as I'm in the Jeep, I grab her phone from her and swipe to unlock the screen. I immediately start scrolling through her photo gallery.
Ashlyn is yelling and laughing and trying to cross the center console to get her phone back. But I'm on a mission. I had heard the click of the camera go off just before she stepped out of a dressing room with a certain emerald green dress on. Low-cut top and short skirt. Yeah, I want that picture!
She’s basically in my lap. The phone is high above my head in one hand; the other hand is free to tickle her. The picture I'm looking for pops up. I hope her tap-to-share feature is on and tap our phones back-to-back. They beep, signaling success.
The pressure on my legs reminds me that there is a beautiful girl sitting in my lap. Retrieving her phone, she tries to escape back to the passenger side. My arms snake around her, keeping her there.
It may be hot in this Jeep, but it’s only partially due to the weather.
Our eyes lock and our lips meet. Nothing else matters. The sweltering heat, the phones all but forgotten, the fact that we’re in a parking lot in broad daylight.
Making out like teenagers. Hot-blooded, uncaring teenagers.
My tongue traces her lips in a frenzy, wanting to get inside. Not until she invites me in. I don’t know how far to take it.
Until her tongue slips past my lips. When it happens, my eyes pop open. So do hers. I'm shocked. She's gauging my reaction. I go with it, following her lead. Tasting her, tasting the cookies and Coke we shared in the mall. Her hands find their way around the back of my neck and force me closer.
Mine are inching their way under her shirt. Under her shirt, my fingers splay and slowly move upward. They’re mere centimeters from the edge of her bra.
“Mmm,” she hums into my mouth. “We hafta stop.” Knowing what she means, I drop my hands, already missing the smoothness of her skin. What are we doing?
***
Ashlyn
Why did Kiel choose a park and why did he steal my phone? I settle back in my seat to check my phone. The selfie I took in the green dress is on the screen. There's a message that said a file was successfully sent. That picture. Me and pictures. I shake my head.
“What the—?” I start and turn to see him with a crazy grin on his face. I frown in mock consternation. He now has that picture for himself. I had to take off my bra to try on that dress. It looked dead sexy on me, I don’t mean to brag, but hey, it was freaking hot!
If anyone—ahem—asks me to the homecoming dance, that’s the one I'm wearing.
“Are your plans for that picture nefarious?” I ask.
“Let’s just say it’ll be there for me when you’re not,” he says slyly.
“Holy crap! Kiel!” I holler.
He laughs and starts the Jeep. It’s a short drive to the park.
At the park there are a few moms with strollers and several children. It’s almost six. Jenna and D'Nae must be together because I'm only getting spammed by one of them every ten minutes.
Kiel glances at my beeping, blinking phone and suggests I call them unless I wanted to be hunted down like an animal. He has a point. We both have calls to make.
I sigh. I don’t want anyone, not even my friends, to butt in on my time with Kiel. They deserve some sort of explanation, though.
“Where are you?” a squealed question greets me from, I think, Jenna. No hello, how are you? “The rumors are flying. Flying! Jacob and Reyna were both taken into custody! By Officer Castro! You better start talking b—”
“I'm gonna,” I laugh. “If you can shut up.”
“Breathe, Jenna,” I hear D'Nae when she adds herself to our call. “Dang, Ok, so give it to us straight. Leave nothing out. Especially who you are currently with…”
I peer over at Kiel who has strategically moved away from the ear-piercing screams issuing from my receiver. I quickly recount the sordid details of this morning, leaving out my personal business.
“No freaking way!” Jenna interrupts “What an idiot.” and there are various gasps and sighs.
“So,” D'Nae says once I'm done, “are you with Kiel right now?”
“Yes,” I say carefully, cutting my eyes over to see Kiel smiling knowingly at me. He’s on the phone as well, with someone way tamer than my two.
“Have you been with him since they released you?” Jenna asks.
“Mostly…” I say slowly. I move the phone a good two feet from ear as Jenna squeals again.
“Oh. My. Goodness,” from Jenna, while D'Nae says “The quarterback and the cheerleader. How cliché, Ashlyn.” But she sounds happy for me.
I peer over at Kiel again. He's ending his call, meaning I can end mine. “Hey, I'll call you guys later, ‘K?”
“You so better!” Jenna threa
tens. How can one person talk with so many exclamation points?
I hang up and walk to where Kiel is standing. I clap my hands once and say, “Well, now that we’re here, what should we do? Steal candy from babies, push kids down the slides, roll the swings’ chains around the top bar to make short kids cry?”
“You're kinda evil…” Kiel says with his own evil grin. He rubs his hands together menacingly. “Actually, I have a better idea when it comes to the slide. We could hide under it and make out.”
I clap my hands, this time in anticipation, “Let’s get to it. There! That slide looks perfect.” I point to one across the playground. He grabs me by the waist to run there, but a mom, little boy, and dachshund beat us to it.
“Dang!” Kiel exclaims, keeping his language clean, appearing crushed. “I guess we’ll have to settle for the swing set.”
Without warning, I'm in the air and thrown over his shoulder. I let out a girly shriek, then giggle. He walks leisurely to the swing set. Annoyed parents turn toward us, letting us know we should be better behaved.
“Kiel! Put me down this instant,” I shriek, disregarding the disapproving adults. It doesn’t come off as a demand but more of a suggestion. Let’s face it. The view from where I'm at is stunning, as must his be… My thought is confirmed when he swats me playfully on the butt. We must be at the swings, because he lowers me slowly down his chest.
My hair is a tangled mess, effectively curtaining off my view. It takes me a minute to flip it back in place. When I do, he's staring at me with his hands tucked in his jeans pockets. It’s soul-piercing.
Then his phone rings. Another one of those moments stolen from us.
He pulls it out, looks at the screen, and says, “My mom.” He answers it. “Hello…Yeah, I'm still with her…No, I haven't asked her…Yes, Mom, I will…Yes! Te quiero. Adiós.” Kiel hangs up then spreads his hands out graciously at the swings.
Obliging, I head toward one and sit down. He steps behind me and pulls me back, releasing me gently. It’s like being four again, only this is romantic. He uses both hands on my back to push me. I'm going pretty high soon. It tickles my stomach in the good way, making me giggle.
“Did you ever jump out of the swing when you were younger?” Kiel asks me.
“Yup. The last time I did,” I start, letting out a giggle, “I was in fourth grade. Broke my arm.”
“Arm?” he sounds confused.
Another giggle escapes me as the swing takes me backward, “I attempted a somersault.”
“And?”
“And I managed one and broke my arm when I went into the second one.”
“I'm honestly impressed,” he professes.
“You should be. Several girls before and after have tried and failed. You're basically hanging out with a local legend.”
“Is that so?”
“Yup.”
“In that case—” I don’t feel his hands on my back any longer. I look over my shoulder, but he's not there. I turn my gaze forward where he is now standing. The swing takes me up, but he grabs the chains, covering my hands. I'm suspended there, near him, but not near enough.
He leans in, “In that case,” he starts again, but whispers roughly, “I'm truly humbled. I am in the presence of greatness.” Finished talking, he places a gentle kiss on my lips. It’s the sweetest kiss I've ever been given.
He helps me out of the swing. We spend the rest of our evening together walking around the park hand-in-hand. Our conversations remain on family, like our sisters—mine the good, his the bad and ugly—and our parents from two ethnicities.
We keep it safe, mundane, and rated G.
Chapter 12
Kiel
I am glad I chose the park. We act like kids, then act like teens, then like a couple. Ashlyn is down with being goofy which is important to me. I can’t believe she let me get away with slapping her on the butt.
As we’re walking around later, with the sun setting, the topic turns to parents. That's my cue.
“Speaking of parents,” I say. “My mom wants to know if you’ll come over to dinner Saturday night. Keep in mind, you can say no.” I don’t mean it to come off as scary, but it could be with my mom and sister in the same room.
It could be a disaster.
“Do you want me to?” she asks looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
“Yeah, I just can’t vouch for your safety…”
“In that case…” she smiles and elbows me.
“Well?”
“Absolutely!” she replies, sounding enthusiastic. “What time?”
“Six. Business casual,” I respond in all seriousness. She raises an eyebrow at me and thumps me on the arm. I thump her back, softly.
“No, really,” I say. “Wear a dress. Not for my family, though.” This earns me a punch to the arm. “Ow! Can you blame me after forcing me to see you in that green one?”
“No. No I can’t.” She sighs, looking up at the darkening sky. “I need to get home.”
Buzzkill.
“Yeah, I guess you do,” I agree. “Let me know if you decide to go to school tomorrow.”
“Are you?” she asks me, biting her lip.
“I think so. No use avoiding it and looking guiltier.”
“True. True.” She takes a deep breath, like a burden’s been lifted.
I walk her back to the Jeep, disappointed that I have to let her go.
When I get her into the Jeep, there's no denying that she makes it sexy. Until she gets in, it’s simply any other guy’s Wrangler. My next thought is that her driving it would be a major turn-on. Maybe I should teach her to drive a stick.
Saving those thoughts for later, I let my eyes wander. “Ash,” I say quietly, my hands pressed to the door frame, “I want to tell anyone who asks that…” This isn’t easy. I may have rescued her, we may have spent the day kissing and touching, but she could still shoot me down, right here, at a park of all places.
“Yes,” she nods, agreeing without waiting for me to finish my sentence.
“Yes, what?” I ask, puzzled.
“Whatever you want to tell people,” she whispers. She sweeps her gaze up to meet mine.
My confidence boosted, I grip the edge of the hardtop and lean in to say, “That you’re mine.”
“Absolutely,” she murmurs the single word into my mouth and our lips crash together. After too short a time, I push back, allowing Ashlyn to collapse back into the seat, breathless.
“Dang!” she breathes.
We drive home without speaking, but it’s comfortable. My iPod is plugged in with us singing along. She turns it up, causing us to sing louder. At her house, she unbuckles then peers around at the interior of my Jeep. It’s a ’87 Wrangler. I've done a lot of work on it, mostly on my own. It’s a source of pride.
Eventually, she asks, “Do you ever take her out?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, giving my head a shake.
“Yeah, take her out. You know, mudding, off-roading, up hills. This baby needs to be taken out!”
I have to laugh at her exuberance. Ashlyn doesn’t seem like the back roads type girl. “Are you asking me to take you with ‘us’ next time ‘we’ go out?
“Heck yeah! I know some great places, and one of my dad’s friends owns a hunting lease. It’s un-freaking-believable. I took my ex-friends there a few times this past summer. But none of them owns anything like yours. Just trucks and jacked-up SUVs.”
I gape at her, amazed, dumbfounded, and oddly proud. This brown-haired, hazel-eyed contradiction of a woman is my girlfriend. Right in front of the house, and very likely an audience, I take her face in my hands and kiss her until we’re both senseless.
The porch light flickers a warning, making me release a smiling, giddy Ashlyn. I rush around to get her out of the car without any excess touching.
“I'll pick you up tomorrow, ok,” I say, already sure of her answer.
“Absolutely,” she murmurs.
I am so far gone.
Ashlyn
I turn quickly, tucking my wind-blown hair back. At the door, I spin to wave at Kiel one last time. Running in and past peeping Tom Mom at the window, I yell, “Goodnight!” Brisa is waiting for me in our room.
“Tell me everything chica! Details! How those muscles feel against you… Oh my God! Those muscles, Ash. How do you keep your hands off?”
Well, for one, I think, my mind has been on his lips and hands. I smile like a loon and collapse back on to my bed. Out loud, I sigh, “Bri, he is amazing.”
“Amazing conversationalist? Amazing kisser? Amazing—”
“No, yes, and stop! He's so much more than an amazing kisser. It’s who he is, what he is. Plus he drives an awesome Jeep. Plus he's starting a band. Not to mention that he's a paragon of morality.”
“Hold up,” Brisa literally holds up her hands to stop me. “A what of what?”
“He has high moral standards.” My phone beeps at me yet again. “To keep me from telling all about my date twice, can I put Jenna and D'Nae on speaker?”
“Yeah, sure,” she pouts.
“Don’t worry, I'll save all the juiciest bits, so you can stop pouting,” I placate her.
She rubs her hands together like some beautiful troll as she watches me dial.
***
There is so much squealing during the telling that I have to turn the volume way down. When I hang up, true to my word, I save Brisa the choicest parts. Bri is already hanging onto my arm waiting for her turn.
“Ok, ready?” I tease.
“Come on!”
“When he carried me over his shoulder…” I pause to annoy her. It works; she's bouncing. “He smacked my butt. Mhm.”
“Whaaat? No!” she whisper-yells. “Continue.”
“And when he asked me out? He didn’t ask. Kiel wanted to be able to tell people that I. Am. All. His.”
She gasps, “Que machismo.”
“Huh?” I ask. Just because she said it like it was a good thing, didn’t mean it was.
“Mexican men are macho. They like to feel like they're in control. Not that they are. But it’s so…sexy!”