Page 2 of Isn't She Lucky
A drop of rain splatters on my face. Way back on my parents’ property is where we are. The estate is massive, and if we’re going to make it back to the house before the sky opens up, we need to get moving.
“Come on, G,” I tell her. “We gotta go. It’s about to pour down.”
“Okay. Beat you there,” she says, then takes off.
I tuck the football beneath my left arm and sprint to race her. She’s fast. The rain is coming down a bit faster, too.
Laughing while running with all her might, she says, “Oh my God. Hurry up, Kase! We’re going to get drenched.”
We’re still hauling it across the expansive lawn. At times like this, I wish we hadn’t gone out so far, but we did. We didn’t have to, but I chose to since I like having her all to myself. Far back to where my parents nor her mother can see us. It’s just us. Me and her. My ace. My best friend.
We almost made it to the house before the torrential downpour got us. It’s coming down so heavy, I can hardly see how to make it to the porch, but somehow, we do. We climb the stairs, open the back door, and then proceed inside.
Giada’s all giggles when we step into the mudroom. She’s not upset or pouting about her drenched hair. She’s full of joy even when we’re completely drenched. Our clothes are so wet, you can wring water out of them.
“I don’t have any extra clothes,” she says. “And my mom is going to freak out if she sees all this water on the floor.”
“Your mom will be fine. Take your shoes off and come with me.”
“Kase…”
“Trust me, G. Come on.”
“Okay,” she whispers loudly.
She steps out of her sneakers and socks, then follows me into the laundry room. I close the door, walk over to the folded towels, and take one from the stack, handing it to her. She takes it, wipes her face and hair, and then peels off her shirt like I’m not even in the room. She slides her shorts down her legs,leaving nothing on but her undergarments – pink panties and a white bra.
I’m caught in a trance. I’ve never seen her like this, but something about her undressing in front of me without a care in the world gives me a feeling of elation. She’sthatcomfortable with me.
My eyes feast on her body – the curves I’ve never seen nor could see beneath the baggy clothes she wears. She’s shapely – still skinny, but she has an actual dip in her waist that curves into hips. And her damp skin looks soft. The tomboy is really a delicate girl full of grace, softness and vulnerability.
She finally covers her body with the towel, wrapping it around her like she just got out of a pool. I blink out of my trance and walk over to the stash of clean clothes and find a pair of my shorts and a white T-shirt for her. She drops the towel, pulls the shirt over her head, and then spends a little more time squeezing water from her hair.
I take off my shirt and shorts, slipping on dry clothes quickly, and then I walk over and take her left hand into my right and say, “Let’s go before we get in trouble.”
“Why would we get in trouble?” she asks. “Oh, for tracking water inside?”
No. For being alone like this. For watching each other undress. For the thoughts running through my mind about kissing you. About feeling you in my arms. About one day, making you my wife.
“Um, yeah,” I say. “Tracking water…let’s hurry up and clean it up before your mom sees it.”
The door swings open. As if caught in the act, I quickly release her hand when I see her mother standing in the doorway with a mop.
“What the—?” she asks partially. The look on her face is one of terror. You’d think she caught us kissing or something.
“Hey, Ms. Gardner,” I say.
“Wha—what are y’all doing in here?” Her tone is accusatory as if she knows we were up to something. We weren’t, but her face…
She looks like she’s a breath away from having a small heart attack.
“Ma, we got caught in the storm and came in here to get some towels to dry off,” Giada says.
“What are you wearing?”
“My clothes got wet. Kase let me borrow some of his.”
She looks at me and her eyes narrow. I’m waiting for the subsequent line of questions – like, where did Giada change clothes? Why were wehidingin the laundry room? Howlongwe’ve been in the laundry room?
