Page 96 of Fight Or Flight

Brooklyn

After the Broadway show, we met Lauren, Riggs, and the rest of the family at Il Cortile, a restaurant in Little Italy. They sang happy birthday to me and with both parents close to my heart and my boyfriend at my side, I blew out the candles. What had the potential to be a horrible day, turned out to be one I’d never forget, and the next day, I started thinking about how I could make Eric’s birthday just as special as he made mine.

I had three weeks to knock his socks off, which seemed like plenty of time, but I didn’t have a job and in true Nicholson fashion, I hit a roadblock at every turn. I already packed my schedule between day school and night school, so nailing a job at the mall wasn’t an option. I really didn’t want to ask Riggs or Lauren to fund my birthday surprise for Eric. Doing this on my own was important to me. So, I asked him if I could work at Big Nose Kate’s on the weekends and that following weekend, I was serving wings.

Eric hated that I had taken a job because it meant I had even less time to spend with him. He had already stopped working two weeks prior because his parents wanted him home as much as possible. The clock was ticking, and we were all running out of time with our soldier boy.

The next issue I ran into came when I tried to book a room at a motel. I was eighteen, so that was not a problem, but I needed a credit card. Again, I turned to Riggs. They were still trying to enforce that whole no sleeping in the same bed rule—which, let’s be serious, was a joke. I still snuck into Eric’s bed every night and after we fooled around, I made sure to set my alarm so that I was up an hour earlier than Riggs. Anyway, back to my credit card issue, I came clean about what I was planning to Eric’s dad and twenty minutes later we had a motel room booked. I tried to give him the money for the room, but he wouldn’t take it.

“Use it as spending money for the weekend. You’re going to need it if you’re planning on feeding that beast you call a boyfriend,” he said. And honestly, he had a point.

Since Eric has nixed the snacks from his diet, he was eating twice as much at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I don’t know where the guy puts it all. I stare at a cheeseburger and I look like I’m five months pregnant, but whatever. His grandma says he’s a growing boy. If he grows any more, I’m going to need a stepstool to kiss him.

I already need a bigger car.

The poor guy’s knees hit the dashboard.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” he asks, reaching over the console to touch my thigh. “You do realize we aren’t twenty-one and Atlantic City would be a total bust for us.”

Isn’t that crazy? The guy can go to war, but he can’t order a beer or pull the lever of a slot machine.

“We’re not going to Atlantic City,” I reply. “And if you keep touching my leg like that, we’re not going to make it to our destination.”

“I’m okay with that. Pull over and we can fuck like a bunch of rabbits on the side of the Garden State Parkway.”

Keeping my eyes on the road ahead of me, I grin. If Eric could have sex all day long, I think he would. He’s become increasingly insatiable as basic training draws nearer. I’m not complaining, though. I’ve become quite the fan myself and I love exploring. Sometimes I wonder if things would be different between us if we didn’t live together.

His hand inches under the hem of my shorts.

“If we crash, it’s your fault,” I say, swatting his hand away. “I promise birthday sex is on the agenda, you just need to be a little patient. We’re almost there.”

I catch a glimpse of his frown from the corner of my eye and I try not to laugh at him. He’s such a big baby when he doesn’t get his way.

“This there you speak of….is there a bed, some place comfy I can spread you out on, or are we going to be doing it in this sardine can?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” I tease. “Just a couple more exits. Tell the snake in your pants to hang in there.”

Taking my directions literally, Eric grabs hold of the impressive hard on poking through his shorts and starts talking to his ‘snake’, “Hang in there, anaconda, she says we’re almost there.”

Ten minutes later the GPS sounds in the car, instructing me to take the exit on the right to Wildwood, and my sulking soldier boy straightens beside me.

“We’re going to Wildwood?” he asks, clearly surprised.

Apparently, a weekend in Wildwood, New Jersey, is a timeless tradition to the seniors in Staten Island. No matter what High School you graduate from, whether it's private or public, the weekend after graduation you and your friends spend a weekend in South Jersey soaking up the sun and in most cases, drinking illegal booze out of red Solo cups.

Eric and I weren’t like the rest of our graduating class, though. For starters, I won’t actually get my diploma until I complete summer school—so probably August. And while he will be taking part in the actual graduation ceremony, he is scheduled to board a plane to Georgia that Sunday, completely nixing any chance of partaking in the tradition of going to the Jersey Shore.

Prom isn’t in the cards for us either, and that’s only because neither of us have the desire to attend. Graduating high school, while it’s important to both of us, is just another thing we need to get done and out of the way before our military life begins. Yes, the Army is ultimately Eric’s decision and his career, but it is going to be very much a part of my life and there’s even a small part of me that is excited. Especially for the Army Ball. Who needs a prom when you can get all dolled up and have your soldier escort you in his Dress Blues to a lavish military party?

I turn off the exit and steal a quick glance at Eric.

“It’s back to the beach for you and me this weekend, Soldier Boy, and this time you’re going to swim in the ocean with me. We have a room at a motel on the boardwalk and dinner reservations at seven. Oh, and if it isn’t too much to ask, I’d really like to ride the Ferris Wheel with you. I’ve always wanted to be kissed at the top.”

He leans over the console and presses a loud kiss to my cheek.

“A weekend down the shore with my girl—best birthday ever.”

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