Page 53 of Bottle Rocket
She let Leo lead her toward the front yard, ignoring the catcalls of her friends. They skirted the corner of Robin’s house. Leo stopped as soon as they were alone and pinned her against the brick.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
“You look gorgeous tonight. It’s turning me on.”
She blushed. She’d donned a lightweight chambray dress and red lipstick. Very prim and proper, per Wren’s description, but she felt pretty.
“Show me how much,” she said, slipping into her disciplinarian voice. Leo’s eyes went wide and his breath stuttered.
She knew he wouldn’t disappoint her. He gently took her hand and placed it over the front of his jeans. His cock plumped against her palm, so she fondled him.
“Look at me,” she ordered. He did. “This is mine tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Kiss me.”
He did.
He kissed her as if the world was about to fracture around them, all eager, rushed, and desperate. She pulled back with a smile.
Leo slipped his hand into hers, and they walked to the front of the house. There was a small crowd setting off fireworks on the hot asphalt of the street.
Rosie hadn’t played with fireworks in years. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d held a lit punk in her hand. Maybe high school?
Leo handed her a packet of M-80s. “Blow some shit up for me, beautiful.”
Rosie waited until the road had cleared before she stepped forward. She placed two fat red sticks on the ground, their green fuses touching. Then she lit them, hurrying away as soon as the fuses sparked.
She reached Leo right before the M-80s blew, and he was watching her face as the firecrackers detonated in tandem. Adrenaline flushed through her. Her heart shot to her throat. Her laughter rang out, and Leo caught her in his arms.
And that was when she remembered.
The last time she’d set off fireworks had been with him on the riverbank, a week before he’d left. Thirteen years later, he was passing her a bag of smoke bombs, and she was certain he remembered too. She didn’t want this moment to end.
The night continued on. Rosie played more cornhole and spoke with Robin and Wren about roller derby. She plied Dean for stories about Leo. She observed people eating the jam she’d brought, a sense of accomplishment flowing through her. She watched William O’Dare dote on her brother. She sat with Sasha beside the pool, their feet in the water, and didn’t have to talk at all.
Once the hot sun fully sunk below the horizon and the sky turned from pink to lilac to dark navy blue, everyone moved their lawn chairs into the front yard to view the partygoers’ big finale. She sat on Leo’s lap and pretended that life could be like this all the time.
It was everything she’d been searching for. Happiness and passion and a full heart.
Fireworks exploded over their heads, but she closed her eyes, listening to the crackle and powerful booms, feeling the reverberation of each blast in her chest.
“Rosie,” Leo whispered in her ear.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “For giving us this time together.”
Pain flared through her as bright and violent as the fireworks above their heads. They’d never said goodbye thirteen years ago. One day, he’d told her he was leaving, kissed her, and left. She’d known she would never see him again. She’d nursed her pain alone and moved on because she knew they’d done the right thing.
Now she’d received this time with him, a gift she’d never expected.
