Page 31 of When We Were Younger

Stephen

Did you want me to kiss you last night?

Yes.

Stephen

Did you enjoy kissing me last night?

You know I did.

Stephen

Then stop overthinking it and put on some sneakers. I'll be there to pick you up in thirty minutes.

And just to be perfectly clear, this is a date. And so was last night.

A knock on the bedroom door jolts me from my thoughts and back to reality. Part of me wants to pretend to still be asleep, but the smell of coffee drifting closer is enough to entice me.

"Come in," I holler, and the door cracks open. Jay, Keith, Dean, and Kira all pop their heads through the door, one on top of another like they're starring in some over-the-top ‘90s sitcom.

"Good morning, Miss Dottie," Jay sing-songs, extending a steaming mug in my direction.

"If you want me to talk, you're going to have to deliver whatever is in that mug straight to this bed, IronDad," I chide.

One by one, the McKenna's unravel themselves from their human pyramid at my door and filter into the room. Kira jumps directly onto the bed, crawling up beside me and propping her head up with a few pillows. Dean takes a seat at the edge of the bed on my other side, while Jay and Keith perch on either side of the mattress.

I reach out and grab the mug–one with a cartoon drawing of a young Honey Boo Boo and the quote ‘Everyone's a little gay’–and sip. The homemade hazelnut latte isn't quite as good as the ones Rachel makes up in San Francisco, but it'll certainly do.

"You're all vultures, you know. Every last one of you," I say after another sip.

"We're not vultures, Dot. We're just curious," Dean pokes my shoulder, almost knocking me off balancewhere I sit. For a professional quarterback, the man doesn't know his own strength.

"There's nothing to be curious about. I told you everything last night. Stephen walked me to the door and kissed me while the four of your stared through the curtains like Jimmy Stewart in a Hitchcock film."

"Please, honey. If this was a Hitchcock film, I would've Norman Bates-ed you in the shower for keeping details to yourself," Kira says with an eye roll so hard, I'm surprised she doesn't sprain herself.

"Kira, honey bunch, you're more like a crow. Just pick pick picking away at poor Tippi here," Keith says to his daughter as he pats my foot where it sticks out from the blanket.

"There will be no Hitchcock-ing of any sort, children," Jay cuts in, lying down and placing his chin in his hand, mirroring Kira on my other side. "We simply want to know if anything happened since last night. Have you and Stephen talked?"

I sigh. There's no point in hiding it. Stephen will be here soon to pick me up, and if his texts are to be believed, there is likely to be more kissing, probably when he drops me back off later.

Man, I hope there's more kissing. Much, much, much more. I could barely sleep last night, I was far too busy touching my lips to my fingertips, trying to recreate the electric spark of Stephen's skin.

My thoughts spiraled, and touching my lips turned into touching other parts of my body and well…if I had any qualms about masturbating at McKenna Mountain, they have long since been squashed. Besides, Jay and Keith so graciously included me in their in-depth discussion of the birds and the bees with Kira when we were eleven, and they had been adamant about the importance of the pursuit of self-pleasure.

I'm going to go ahead and consider the two muffled orgasms I gave myself under their roof, while thinking of Stephen's muscled thighs straining against his jeans, as payback for that bit of preteen humiliation.

Nothing scars a young girl for life quite like having two very homosexual men clinically explain clitoral stimulation.

"We're taking his dog on a hike this morning," I say, throwing back another gulp of latte.

"Is taking his dog on a hike code for something dirty?" Dean asks, waggling his eyebrows. I try to shove him, but he grasps my hands and pulls me into a half cuddle/half headlock.

"It's not code for anything dirty! And he's picking me up in twenty minutes so if you'll all excuse me, I have to get ready."

"Oh yes, the lady needs her privacy. What does one wear to a totally not dirty hike with one's ex-boyfriend whom one made out with shamelessly on one's best friend's parents’ porch last night?" Jay ponders, tapping his fingers against his face.

---