Read Online Snark and Stage Fright by Stephanie Wardrop - Free Book Online Page B

I would need to expand my portfolio—and tell my parents. I hadn’t even mentioned it to Michael yet.
    So after we were back at the house and hanging out on the beach, I decided to tell him about my idea. I was a little afraid he would think I was just trying to avoid college math requirements, but he said without hesitation, “Then I think you should.”
    “Really? You don’t think I’m just trying to avoid college math requirements?” I asked, feigning shock as I fell prone onto the towel, my eyes squinting immediately in the glare of the late afternoon sun.
    He passed me my sunglasses and lay down next to me, saying, “Of course not. My mother thinks you’re very talented.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah.” He leaned on one elbow and gave me that smile that always makes me feel like my heart’s an elevator skipping floors. “And I do, too.”
    I wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.
    Much later, we walked back to the house holding hands and looking over at each other like we had this amazing secret the rest of the world would never know. Feeling so close to him, emotionally, though, perversely made me a little terrified at the idea of getting closer, physically, which I knew was the plan for the night. Why mess this up, a voice in my head kept screaming, and you know you will .
    We joined his parents on the deck for dinner, a pasta puttanesca his mom made that was the best I’ve ever had and vegan cookies his dad had found at a bakery in Provincetown. We all sat around the table talking and laughing, and it was so different from the forced family dinners at my house, at which Cassie chatters like a squirrel about whatever athlete she has a crush on that week and my dad pretends he’s not paying more attention to the Blackberry hidden under his napkin. After dinner, I helped Dr. Endicott do the dishes. I don’t think my dad has washed, dried, or put away a plate in his entire life.
    Sitting on the porch swing later as we were all watching the stars rise up over the horizon, Michael kept touching his knee against mine and every time he made contact I felt a flash run up my spine. He was running his fingers very lightly over the back of my neck when he said, super casually, “Hey, Mom, Dad, I think Georgie and I are gonna go in now, okay?” He kissed his mom on the cheek and I mumbled “good night” but declined to look them in the eye as we went inside and walked single file up the narrow plank staircase to the second floor and I could feel my heart bouncing in my ribcage like a jackrabbit on meth.
    He opened the door to the guest room—my room for the next three days—and then closed it behind me, turning the lock with a decisive click. I gulped and in an instant we were on the bed, shoes off, and Michael’s mouth was on the part of the back of my neck that has always been so sensitive. I swear, if you tickle it just a little, I dissolve into convulsions and really helpless laughing so much it hurts a little. But now his lips were rendering me a much better kind of helpless. I ran a hand up his back underneath his gray T-shirt and he shivered a little; when I nuzzled his throat with my mouth he started groaning. Nervous as I was, I felt thrilled that I was capable of making him make those noises, that I could make him feel as good as he was making me feel. It was a little like being drunk, only without the unpleasant nausea and lack of balance. It was so much better.
    Before I could congratulate myself on my Olympic-level kissing skills, Michael murmured, “Uhhhh … shirts off?”, his mouth against my collarbone and his hand under my shirt near my navel. I just nodded and he removed his hand to whip the shirt up over his head, making his curls flip to attention; normally I would have found this adorable but the sight put a lump in my throat now. Hours of lifeguard duty had given him a light gold tan and some pretty defined muscles. I don’t have a lot to compare them to in real