Page 20 of Cookout Carnage
My mom’s voice trills as she bolts towards Juliet, “Finally, you came to your senses.”
She grins and nods as my mother almost tackles her to the ground in a hug. “Nice to see you too.”
My father puts out his elbow to her and says, “Shall we?” She takes it and kisses him on the cheek. Then she turns back to me and winks. I’m filled with stars bursting through the night.
We walk another block, and she drifts into step with me. She’s wearing the sweetest sundress, and her hair is pulled back. I’m in white shorts with a red-and-blue-striped shirt, holding down the patriotic end of things.
I look at her. “This is what you really want? You know this day is the same every year. This town is the same every year.”
“On the outside, but the moments are different.”
I lean over and kiss her quickly, swiping my tongue between her lips. “Are you sure we have to watch the fireworks?” She murmurs on my lips. I have yet to tell her sex with me is going to be about ninety seconds at this point. I’m gearing up for it. I promise the second time will be better, but the first will be a one-pump wonder.
“I read every word,” I say quietly.
Her eyes light up. “And?”
I turn toward her. “And, well, seeing as I’m in love with you and you’re in love with me.”
“Correct.” She nods assertively.
“And neither of us is getting married tomorrow. We should probably date or something.”
“Or something.” She squeals and drops her cooler and chair. Then throws her arms around my neck.
I give her a bit of a glare and a warning. “But we don’t know what this is yet, agreed?”
She kisses me and skates her tongue over my lips. After my almost two-year sexual drought, I’m shocked I don’t ejaculate instantly. I try to keep the kiss PG, but it quickly moves to an R rating as our lips collide hard and our tongues volley to make up for lost time. Her little noises reach my ears, and that’s too much.
I pull back. “Later. There’s, um, some things I need to tell you. And you cannot touch me sensually until the fireworks are over.”
She laughs. “I’ll do my best, but have you seen you?” She squeezes my biceps.
We walk on, and her hand fits into mine. My body pops with excitement. It sparks like it always does. Time and distance haven’t dulled her effect on me.
She’s suddenly coquettishly shy and loosens her grip. We’re about to be the scandal to beat all scandals. Every county’s busybody “Karen” will be lining up at CK’s to get a glimpse of Jules and hear all about it.
“Hey, what’s with the shy?”
She looks down. “You don’t have to hold my hand. Everyone needs to get right with the breakup.”
I hold it tight. “If I don’t, how will they know you’re mine?” I lean over and growl in her ear. “Mine.”
She shrugs, and her eyes fill. She’s not a crier. I put down the chairs and let my parents forge ahead with the rest of the crowd.
I put my forehead to hers. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, and I let my thumb catch her tear.
She says, almost like a prayer, “I never let myself believe I deserved this kind of feeling. It’s a bit much.”
“What feeling, Jules?”
Her tears leak out as she says, “Happy.” I pull her to me, and it all seems surreal like we’ve cut to the end of the movie. I kiss her forehead and pick up my stuff.
A dopey grin breaks across her face, and she wipes under her eyes. “Ok. I’m ready for it.”
I crook an eyebrow at her. “Ready for what?”
