Page 5 of The Summer of ’98

“You get along with her?”

“I guess,” I admitted. “She can be a bit overbearing.”

“How so?” Leroy asked, watching me while his hand reached out and his fingers ran along the top of mine, as if he was completely unaware that he was doing it. It made it hard to focus on the answer I wanted to give him.

“Amber calls her a helicopter mom. She’s got a way that she likes things to be. You know? She’s big on respect and if she doesn’t feel respected, she gets . . . frustrated. But she’s okay. She wants the best for me and she’s all I’ve got.”

I didn’t want to tell him that my momma wouldn’t let me out of her sight without knowing where I was going, but when I was home, she was emotionally distant. It was a weird combination, a lonely one. As if she didn’t particularly want me around, but she didn’t want me out having a life either.

“Do you get along with your parents?” I asked.

“I do,” he said. “They were opposite in the age department when they settled down to have kids. Did the career thing first. Mom was forty-five when I was born. Forty-seven when she had my brother, Noah.”

Wow, that makes his mom . . . sixty-three. I decided not to point out the obvious.

“What’s he like? Your brother.”

“He’s a bit hard to mesh with.”

“How come?”

“He’s a bit arrogant, defensive,” Leroy said. “Makes it hard to have conversations with him that don’t end with him acting the victim. He likes to tell me that I’m the favorite son, too, which is bullshit. I just decided to follow the family career tradition and he didn’t. Somehow, he’s conjured up this idea that dad is disappointed in him. No matter how often Dad tells him that he’s not.”

“Sounds like he needs more hugs.” I tapped his hand when I remembered an earlier question. “Oh, you never did tell me what you’re doing at Baylor?”

“College football,” he said. “I’m aiming for the NFL.”

I grinned. “That explains the bod.”

“The bod?”

“I know that you know I’ve been staring at your arms all night.”

He laughed, and with a quick shift of position, he was on his hands and knees, hovering in front of me, so close that I felt his breath fanning my face. “You should know,” he murmured, his gaze moving between my mouth and eyes, “that I’ve been staring at all of you. All night.”

My heart thumped. It was almost painful how fast it was beating as he moved in closer. I was sure that he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me. But being me, my mind went into overdrive.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” I said, causing him to pause. “I mean, you’ll be back. But—”

“We don’t have to do this, Ellie.” He started to distance himself, but before he could move away, I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, holding him in place as I fought through rapid breaths.

And then I pushed our mouths together before I could talk myself out of it and I was so glad I did because this kiss felt like no other. His response was immediate. His mouth pushed mine open as his hand came up and wound in the strands of my hair. Every lap of his tongue, each gentle caress of his fingertips against my waist or neck, it was all igniting.

We made out for . . . a while. I was sure that I’d end up with a make-out rash, but nothing else seemed important. I’d ended up underneath him and his hands explored every inch of me. I was beyond wound up with need. I was still a virgin because I hadn’t found someone who made me feel enough to want to take that step. But with Leroy, I felt it all. I felt so much need that I couldn’t imagine stopping him when his fingers popped open the button of my jeans.

“Leroy,” I gave him a gentle push and smiled when he gave me an apologetic glance. “I’m—I’m a virgin.”

His brows raised but he tried to hide his surprise. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

He tried to sit up and move away but I held him in place, wrapping my legs around his waist. “No, no. I just. I just wanted to tell you that. Full disclosure. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to . . . do it . . .”

He cupped my face and his eyes locked with mine. “I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do. We can stop right now.”

I leaned up and kissed his soft, sweet lips. “I want you, Leroy.”

ONE MONTH LATER

Leroy

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