those noises are joined by the jingle of my car keys.
"My sisters' name is Kendall. She's eleven."
"Has she ever been on that thing?"
"Hell no, I'd never take her on it. Not that my parents would actually let me. Once she begged me to drive her around the cul-de-sac in our subdivision, but..." He shrugs. "Besides, I'd feel horrible if anything ever happened while she was on the back of it."
"I don't blame you. Those things can be scary." And sexy as hell.
"Yeah, they can be if the driver isn't careful. My parents made me take a class, so..." He shrugs again.
"So you're a safe driver?"
"More like a responsible driver. I've never had a passenger, and I'm not like some of those assholes that rev their engines. Bikes don't have to be so damn loud, you know." He pauses. "So you know I'm dying to ask..." Weston's sentence trails off, the low timber of his voice filling the air.
I suppose I could pretend not to know what he's talking about - feigning ignorance happens to be a talent of mine; a craft honed through years of lying for my idiot brother (yes, Matthew paid me - I consider lying for him one of my first paying jobs). Weston wants to know where all that hockey jargon came from, and if I actually know what any of it means.
Can't say I blame him.
"You know, I kind of want to hear you ask..." I tease.
...Because the sound of your voice is giving me goose bumps and makes me tingle .
I enjoy teasing him, and truthfully, I could very well stand and literally listen to him talk all night. Here in this dimly lit parking lot, it feels like we are the only two people. Maybe it's just me, but the air has a...a crackle, and it definitely feels intimate. Almost like... there's anticipation stirring the air around us.
I rest my back against the door of the Jeep so we're leaning side-by-side and I gaze up at the pitch black sky, watching for a shooting star. River Glen is mostly rural - the town isn't even considered a suburb of Chicago, which is over an hour away - so on a clear night like tonight the sky is crystal clear and perfect for stargazing. No smog from the City to block the view.
"Okay. I'll bite. Where the hell did that come from back there?"
I turn my head to face him and laugh out loud. "Is Mr. Big Bad Hockey Captain impressed?"
"Shit yeah."
Good , the voices inside my head scream.
"Hmm, well, since you asked so nice... my brother plays for Madison and... my cousin is Travis Locke. Of... the Bruins."
The Bruins won the Stanley Cup last year - and in case you didn't know, the Stanley Cup is like the Super Bowl of Hockey.
Weston lets out a low whistle and looks at me with a new kind of interest; shock, excitement, and little bit predatory. He shakes his head slowly. "How did I not know this?"
I shrug. "Well, Matthew is five years older, so we would have only been freshman when he was a freshman at Madison. Technically he's a fifth year Senior now, so it's his last year playing."
"I've actually heard of him. He's awesome. And Travis Locke is your cousin?" He lets out another whistle through those full lips. His eyes are brilliant. "Wow," he says slowly. "So... Wow. You actually know what you're talking about?" Unexpectedly he braces himself against the Jeep with both arms steadied against the cold metal on either side of my head. His face is bent mere inches from mine. Just a little closer Weston, come on ... "Or do you just have a few things memorized for show?"
"You still don't believe I know what I'm talking about?" I force the question out in a soft whisper, a lump forming as my throat as his face inches closer.
He whispers back, "Maybe I just don't think you're the type."
Gasp! How dare he use my own words against me ?! Outrageous!
I'm giddy.
The gauntlet has been thrown, the challenge accepted. I draw my next sentence out slowly. "Oh really...and what type am I?"
Weston draws closer still, and now I can feel his breath on my face.
It's warm and minty. Funny, I don't remember him chewing on a
"My sisters' name is Kendall. She's eleven."
"Has she ever been on that thing?"
"Hell no, I'd never take her on it. Not that my parents would actually let me. Once she begged me to drive her around the cul-de-sac in our subdivision, but..." He shrugs. "Besides, I'd feel horrible if anything ever happened while she was on the back of it."
"I don't blame you. Those things can be scary." And sexy as hell.
"Yeah, they can be if the driver isn't careful. My parents made me take a class, so..." He shrugs again.
"So you're a safe driver?"
"More like a responsible driver. I've never had a passenger, and I'm not like some of those assholes that rev their engines. Bikes don't have to be so damn loud, you know." He pauses. "So you know I'm dying to ask..." Weston's sentence trails off, the low timber of his voice filling the air.
I suppose I could pretend not to know what he's talking about - feigning ignorance happens to be a talent of mine; a craft honed through years of lying for my idiot brother (yes, Matthew paid me - I consider lying for him one of my first paying jobs). Weston wants to know where all that hockey jargon came from, and if I actually know what any of it means.
Can't say I blame him.
"You know, I kind of want to hear you ask..." I tease.
...Because the sound of your voice is giving me goose bumps and makes me tingle .
I enjoy teasing him, and truthfully, I could very well stand and literally listen to him talk all night. Here in this dimly lit parking lot, it feels like we are the only two people. Maybe it's just me, but the air has a...a crackle, and it definitely feels intimate. Almost like... there's anticipation stirring the air around us.
I rest my back against the door of the Jeep so we're leaning side-by-side and I gaze up at the pitch black sky, watching for a shooting star. River Glen is mostly rural - the town isn't even considered a suburb of Chicago, which is over an hour away - so on a clear night like tonight the sky is crystal clear and perfect for stargazing. No smog from the City to block the view.
"Okay. I'll bite. Where the hell did that come from back there?"
I turn my head to face him and laugh out loud. "Is Mr. Big Bad Hockey Captain impressed?"
"Shit yeah."
Good , the voices inside my head scream.
"Hmm, well, since you asked so nice... my brother plays for Madison and... my cousin is Travis Locke. Of... the Bruins."
The Bruins won the Stanley Cup last year - and in case you didn't know, the Stanley Cup is like the Super Bowl of Hockey.
Weston lets out a low whistle and looks at me with a new kind of interest; shock, excitement, and little bit predatory. He shakes his head slowly. "How did I not know this?"
I shrug. "Well, Matthew is five years older, so we would have only been freshman when he was a freshman at Madison. Technically he's a fifth year Senior now, so it's his last year playing."
"I've actually heard of him. He's awesome. And Travis Locke is your cousin?" He lets out another whistle through those full lips. His eyes are brilliant. "Wow," he says slowly. "So... Wow. You actually know what you're talking about?" Unexpectedly he braces himself against the Jeep with both arms steadied against the cold metal on either side of my head. His face is bent mere inches from mine. Just a little closer Weston, come on ... "Or do you just have a few things memorized for show?"
"You still don't believe I know what I'm talking about?" I force the question out in a soft whisper, a lump forming as my throat as his face inches closer.
He whispers back, "Maybe I just don't think you're the type."
Gasp! How dare he use my own words against me ?! Outrageous!
I'm giddy.
The gauntlet has been thrown, the challenge accepted. I draw my next sentence out slowly. "Oh really...and what type am I?"
Weston draws closer still, and now I can feel his breath on my face.
It's warm and minty. Funny, I don't remember him chewing on a
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