Page 2 of Natalie's Nighthawk

“So, Maddie got mad and just left you here? That was kind of bitchy of her.” Graham thought Maddie was a grade-A bitch, unless she was trying to flirt. Graham thought he might be the only boy in school who hadn’t dated her. He’d never even been tempted to, finding her fake and full of herself. It didn’t surprise him that Maddie had tapped out the pool of boys in the high school and had started looking elsewhere.

“She’ll eventually realize how much trouble she’ll be in for this, then she’ll be back.” Natalie was far more forgiving than he would be. She didn’t even seem mad; she was so blasé about the situation that he wondered what it would take to actually piss her off.

“How ‘bout we teach her a lesson?” She tilted her head slightly to the right, the sun caught the fire in her dark hair. A slight hitch in his chest caused his breath to catch, and all the blood suddenly headed south. A teenager, that particular area was always flooded with a little extra, but this was the first time it had ever happened at such an alarming speed. “Get in,” he croaked, gesturing to the passenger seat. “When she comes back and can’t find you, she’ll panic and think you’ve been kidnapped or something.” Now he had the sly smile.

“Diabolical.” She shrugged slightly. “Okay!”

Once settled and underway, he strangely didn’t want their little interlude to end. Natalie sat hunched in the seat as if she were trying to fold into herself. He didn’t understand why she was nervous; they’d known each other since birth and had spent hours together constructing Lego masterpieces as kids. Of course, they hadn’t had much to do with each other since they’d entered the double digits; different interests had taken them in different directions. Playing as many sports as possible was his obsession. And she … well, he wasn’t so sure what she was interested in and should probably remedy that. They had been close friends when they were younger, that they had drifted so far apart made him sad.

“Seems like you’ve had a rough afternoon. How about we get some ice cream?”

“Oh! You don’t need to bother.” One hand nervously clutched the seat belt across her chest. “I’m sure you want to get home. You’re probably hot and sweaty from practice.”

That was an understatement. The heat had made practice unbearable. “All the more reason to get some ice cream. It will help cool me down.”

She shot him a look that said she questioned his motive … or his sanity. If he was honest with himself, he questioned his motive too. He wanted to talk to her, she was real, and for some reason, he felt comfortable with her. More than he had with any of the girls he’d dated. “What do you say? My treat!”

“Okay.” She smiled at him causing that strange hitch in his chest again. He shifted in his seat to alleviate the pressure in his shorts.

After placing their order at the drive-thru of the local Dairy Queen?a hot fudge sundae for her and a chocolate-dipped cone for him?he told her he knew the perfect place to enjoy their snack, driving to a secluded spot that overlooked the southern shore of Lake Michigan, just outside of their little town.

“Oh! I didn’t know this was here!”

“Most people don’t.” It was the perfect placebecausenobody knew about it. He came here often when the world became too overwhelming. Especially lately, when the pressure to pick the right college, and the right career, weighed heavily on him.

“Come on.” Taking a blanket out of the trunk, he spread it over the sand in front of the car. They sat and finished their ice cream in silence. The weather was perfect here next to the lake. A breeze coming in off the water combined with the shade from the trees made the temperature much more bearable than on the wide-open soccer field.

“Sooo,” Natalie drew out the word. “How many girls have you brought here?” she teased.

He laughed. “Funny you should ask … you’re the first.”

“Sure, I am,” she said skeptically. He couldn’t blame her for the cynicism. He had dated quite a few girls in the last few years.

“No, really! You are!” She rolled her eyes, the intense emerald shade sparkling in the sunlight. “Really, it’s the truth!” He’d never brought anyone here before, not even his friends. This washisplace, a private spot for thinking.

“So why do I get the honor of being the first?”

He shrugged; he had no answer for her. They weren’t close, at least not anymore, he’d simply felt a tremendous need to share something special with her.

As they finished their ice cream, Graham watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her profile wasn’t striking but was pleasant. Not a classic beauty like most of the girls he hung out with, she was pretty. What made her immensely intriguing was that she seemed unaware of her allure.

He took in the fine details of her, his cock twitching uncomfortably as he stared at her toned legs beneath the shorts of her overalls. All that silken skin he was itching to touch. He’d never had a reaction like that to a girl’s legs before.

He forced his eyes to move up to her face. She had a slim, straight nose, Cupid’s bow lips, and delicate cheekbones, one of which bore a bit of white paint. Amused, he reached out to touch the dab of paint. “What’s this?”

Startled, she reached up to touch the spot too. “What?”

“Looks like paint.”

“Oh. Probably is,” she blushed. “I was finishing up a project in the art room.”

“I forgot you were an artist.” When she lowered her hand, he noticed the black marks on it. They looked like pencil smudges from the side of the pinkie finger on her left hand down to her wrist. He grabbed her hand for a closer look. “And this?”

“Happens to most left-handers. But more so for me because I spend a lot of time sketching.”

“I’d love to see your work sometime.”

Her face lit up; obviously, she loved the subject. His cock throbbed even harder, seeing that smile again. Knowing he needed to control that, he moved his arm across his lap to hide the insistent bulge.

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