Page 36 of When We Were Younger

"I'm busting you out for a midnight rendezvous. Put some pants on and get out here."

I look down to my legs, bare underneath my long sleep shirt. The windowsill hits me at waist height, so I know he can't see them or my fuzzy socks from all the way down there.

"Why do you assume I don't have pants on?" I ask. Even from up here, I can see him roll his eyes like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"Because you can't sleep when you're wearing pants. Unless something has fundamentally changed about who you are as a person in the last nine years, I know that you have no pants on and that the shirt you're wearing is just barely covering your ass. Even when we were kids and you used to sneak into my room at night, your pants always ended up on my floor."

"How do you even remember that?" I ask

"Being unable to sleep because the object of all your fourteen-year-old desires is pantsless in your bed is not something a man forgets. The wet dreams you caused were a formative experience for me. Now get some pants on your cute ass and get down here before you wake up Pops and IronDad." He hangs up the phone before I have a chance to answer, and then makes a 'let's get it rolling' motion with his hands.

I slip into a pair of cotton leggings, grab a pair of Ugg boots, and pad my way downstairs and out the back door as quietly as I can. On the patio, I put on my boots and then cross the lawn to the tree where Stephen is waiting for me.

"You know we're adults now, right? I don't have to sneak out of the house to see you at night," I say as hereaches out and pulls me in by my waist. I loop my arms around his neck as he leans down and brushes a kiss against my cheek.

"I know, but sneaking out is our thing. It makes everything feel a bit naughtier, don't you think?" His hot breath skates against my ear, and my knees knock together.

"I think the word 'naughty' is what makes things feel naughtier," I tease. He nips at my earlobe.

"Mmm, say 'naughty' again."

I pull back and take his face in my hands. The scruff from his beard tickles my palms.

"Naughty," I mouth, exaggerating the movement of my lips and then dragging my tongue over them. He groans, then reaches down and palms my upper thighs, right under my ass. Before I even have time to yelp, I'm up and over his shoulder in a fireman carry.

"Stephen!" I giggle as he starts to cross the lawn.

"Hush. I have plans for you tonight, and those plans are not happening on the McKenna's lawn." He swats my ass, and the sound echoes through the quiet night. The sting makes me gasp, and a wave of arousal washes over me. My head goes dizzy, and I can feel the tingling sensations building between my thighs.

I don't know what his plans are, but I hope for my libido's sake they have something to do with the mess he's creating in my panties.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask as he hoists me off his shoulder and into the cab of his truck. He gives me a 'duhh' look as he fusses with the seatbelt, buckling mein again. This princess treatment is dangerous; I could certainly get used to it.

"I just busted you out of bed in the middle of the night. You know there's only one place in town I would be taking you right now."

19

DOTTIE

Age Eighteen

"And smile!" Mrs. Hudson beams, holding her phone just high enough that I know the angle of the photos are going to be way unflattering. I grimace at the thought, knowing she'll spend the night posting them all over her social media pages and that I will 'like' them all, no matter how bad they look. The last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt her feelings.

"Smile,Dottie Lynn. With your teeth. I didn't pay all that money for braces for nothing. At least try to look like you're having a good time," my mother hisses out through clenched teeth. I was hoping we'd make it through this little event without her; it is past five o'clock after all.

Typically, she'd be well into herthird cocktail by now. But no, Mom likes to keep up appearances when she remembers to, so here we are. Stephen is in a black suit that I can already feel him sweating through. I’m in a pink, faux silk, floor-length gown, encrusted in fake diamonds from the straps, all the way across the dipping sweetheart neckline and petering out towards my belly button. I'm getting my own reprieve from the stifling, thick May heat from a slit up my right leg, but that comfort is offset by the mile-high silver stilettos Mom insisted I wear.

"That boyfriend of yours is a gangly giant, Dottie Lynn. Anything shorter than this and you'll disappear next to him," she'd said in the dress shop while holding up these shoes that would be more appropriate if I were heading to a night of work at the gentleman's club one town over and not my high school prom.

"Just a few more, sweetheart, then I'll get you out of here. Just take a deep breath, imagine a stray anvil falling out of the sky and flattening your mother like a pancake, and it will all be over before you know it," Stephen leans down and whispers into my ear. That gets a genuine smile out of me, and I appreciate it not only because it will shut my mom up, but because I know Mrs. Hudson will want a picture of Stephen and I looking happy and blissfully in love for her mantle.

She'll probably frame it and put it right between the photo of the two of us holding hands at our fifth-grade graduation, and the one on the football field from last fall–the night we were named Homecoming King and Queen. We never told her that the only reason the twoof us had been crowned as such was because Kira oversaw voting and stuffed the ballot boxes with fake votes as a cruel prank to embarrass us.

Luckily, thanks to an anonymous tip from yours truly to the administration about her transgression, Keeks was banned from the prom committee. I have no concerns about a repeat offense tonight.

"Mom, don't you think you have enough? We should probably leave soon if we're going to make it to the dinner." Stephen asks as he grips my hips a little harder. The yearning in his voice is convincing as hell. He almost has me fooled into thinking he's looking forward to the dry chicken and pasta they're serving at the sad excuse for a country club hosting the prom tonight.

"Yes, yes fine, we're done," Mrs. Hudson concedes.

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